Page 126 of To Tango, with Desire

“I know.” Mom leaned closer to the phone. “Zane could find a replacement wife on this trip and then you’ll be sorry. There are plenty of women older than you that would be desperate to give that man a baby.”

“That’s such crap, Mom.”

“Crap? Eh? You say this to your mother, but I know. Just last month, Fatima’s daughter’s husband left her. Left her. Didn’t want to do more of the IFV.”

“IVF,” Sahar corrected, offering me a sympathetic look over mom’s shoulder.

“Didn’t he want to stop IVF because there was something wrong with his sperm?” Sahar interjected.

Mom shrugged off the vital fact as if it were a useless point.

Sahar’s face swam into view. “I know I’m playing devil’s advocate here, but why wouldn’t you want kids? The two of you are like supermodel good-looking. You’d make gorgeous babies.”

“You’re in on this too?”

“All I’m saying is, why the resistance?”

“Just because you can do something is no reason to actually do it.”

“The guy’s not getting any younger.” Sahar winked before turning away.

“As refreshing as it is to hear it’s a man’s biological clock ticking, it’s not something in the cards for us.”

I watched as Sahar reached into the bassinet set up behind the sofa, picking up Emmy, who’d started to fuss. A pang of regret reverberated through me. I should want my husband’s baby, I should be over the moon to have it, but instead I felt trapped, caged by the idea of bringing a human into this world.

“Bah. Men can have babies at sixty. Your father’s sister’s cousin, he was sixty-two when he had his last son,” Mom interjected. She always had some story about some person who just so happened to be able to prove any point she was making. It was amusing when I was a spectator, not so much when I was on the receiving end of her twisted logic.

Normally, I didn’t hesitate to push back, but now with Dad gone, I didn’t have the heart to fight with her.

“He might say he don’t want children now, Amira, but you are in honeymoon phase. Ya’ni, when this all over, you’ll be the one crying.”

“Again with the drama. Mom, it’s fine.”

I moved my cup to the other side of the table, the scent of coffee making my stomach roll.

“I’m telling you, this is an issue. You married the wealthiest man in the world, Amira. If you don’t give him children, another woman will.”

“You need to stop.”

“The truth hurts. Am I your mother or no? It’s my duty to tell you to your face. Better you cry now than you cry later.”

“Alright, Mom,” Sahar sat beside her. “Dictators are so last century, just cool yourself.”

“Ah? You agree with her, Sahar? Then you her enemy.”

“Here we go.” I stood up, then felt the room tilt. Promptly, I sat back down. “Honestly, Mom, you’re worrying for nothing.”

“Are you okay?” Sahar shifted bub on her shoulder. I could see her downy, dark hair and small body nestled in her mom’s arms. Was this what my life would become? Was I even capable of looking after another human being?

“I’m fine. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

Mom interjected. “You better look after yourself. Your dad’s not around anymore and you work like he did. You’ll find yourself in an early grave, too.”

“I’m fine, I’m just tired.”

“How many years you lived, eh? How many babies you have? Come and talk to me when you have experience,” she chided.

“I don’t need experience to tell you that I’m not interested in kids.”