Alan slept well that night. Beside him Karen lay awake for the better part of an hour, listening enviously to his steady breathing. Sleep brought her only brief respite. Long before daybreak she was awake again, regrets looming larger by the hour. She forced a smile as Alan kissed her on his way out. Calling the office to say her car battery was dead, she poured herself coffee and sat down to think.

What have I done? Is this really what I want? As she lifted her cup, she noticed her hand shaking. She recalled the morning after Alan’s proposal — in a cocktail lounge, under cover of semidarkness and enough drink to loosen her normal inhibitions. Not till next day, as she brought that moment back into focus, had she realized how accepting had changed her life. Her first reaction then also had been panic. But her doubts had dissipated as the day went on.

This time, the morning-after recapitulation became the more oppressive the longer she allowed her mind to dwell on it. Agreeing to have the baby had been an enormous mistake.

But there was no way back; she was committed. Perhaps she would be lucky enough to have a spontaneous miscarriage. But that happened only to women who were desperate to have children. Was there a way to increase her chances? She got a pencil and paper.

Excessive physical exertion? Could she shake the embryo loose? Not a chance. Embryos don’t shake loose. In fact, her obstetrician would shortly be recommending exercises. It would take more than exertion, probably some form of trauma. She crossed out physical exertion.

Trauma. Fall down the stairs? She couldn’t depend on it. More likely she’d sustain brain damage and have the baby anyway. Neither would enhance her career opportunities. And no one she knew would kick her in the belly on demand. Cross out trauma.

German measles? She didn’t remember having it, but it might have passed unnoticed. “Subclinical infection” was the term Alan used. But even in pre-immunization days some people escaped infection altogether. That’s how its relationship to birth defects came to medical attention. Suppose she’d never had it? If so, all she needed was to find a child to catch it from. Then a therapeutic abortion couldn’t be denied and she’d be home free. Such a child might be hard to find these days, but outbreaks occurred in religious sects that forbade immunization. She underlined this item. It was a very long shot.

Abortion on demand? Of course! Surely she alone had the right to make that decision. It would be more comforting to have Alan’s acquiescence, but the law didn’t require it. She’d tell him she had miscarried. That was the truth and nothing but the truth — even if not the whole truth.

On her feet with excitement, she sat down again immediately. Just one minute, Karen! The thought emerged from a hidden recess of her brain: If you’re willing to act so deliberately at cross-purposes with Alan, to disregard his interest, to go back secretly on your word and then tell a half-truth about it, what does this say about your marriage, and your integrity?

As she drained her coffee, she realized that her conscience allowed only one course of action — to honor her commitment.

She tore off the page and threw it into the trash basket. No, better not. She retrieved it, put it into her purse, and drove to work, where she tossed it well out of Alan’s reach.

∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼

For the next six months, Karen worked with undiminished intensity, making no concession to her advancing pregnancy. At the beginning this required no effort, but the heat of the summer took its toll and by early fall she felt chronically tired. The relief offered by moderating fall temperatures was offset by her increasing girth and backache. She consoled herself that her discomfort would last no longer than the pregnancy, only to remember that her days at F & D were likewise numbered. Again and again she had rehashed her fantasy of staging an unintended abortion; each time she had confirmed the correctness of her decision not to; and always the fantasies returned. The price of satisfying her conscience was simply too high. Within her another life was taking shape, and just as surely hers was slipping away.

She wished for someone to confide in, although she didn’t relish admitting to anyone her lack of enthusiasm about her first baby. But who? She could expect no understanding from Alan. Nor from her parents; they wanted more grandchildren. Her sister Allyson already had two children and little sympathy for childless career women. Even Janine, the paralegal, whose career plans had been cut down by an unexpected pregnancy, was happy with her child and had no desire ever to go back to school. Perhaps Janine was denying her disappointment; perhaps she was not disappointed because she had never tasted the practice of law. Either way, she would be no help. Alone among those she knew, Frank Frazier seemed like a person with whom she could share her distress. As it happened, she didn’t need to approach him, for he had divined that all was not well with his protégée. One afternoon in November he called her to his office.

“Close the door and make yourself comfortable — if that’s possible,” he said.

“Thanks,” she answered with a nervous smile. From its eighteenth-floor perch on Walnut Street, Frank’s office afforded an unobstructed view of the Schuylkill River and the Amtrak station on the other side. Staring at the tracks, waiting for the occasional train to enter or leave the station, was a good antidote to stress. But from the easy chair she had unwisely chosen to sit in, all she saw was clouds. She was figuring the wind direction when she heard his voice.

“How’re you feeling?”

“OK, I guess, considering the shape I’m in. I’ll finish those Merriweather interrogatories tonight, even if I have to stay late. I know you’re in a rush for them.”

“That’s not what I called you in for. But I appreciate the effort. It must be quite a strain.”

She lowered her eyes and sat motionless.

“You’re looking downcast. Pregnancy getting the better of you?”

“Oh, Frank, I don’t know whether I should be unloading on you.” Despondency and irritation marked her tone. “But I’ve got to talk with someone, and I’ve run out of names.”

“When all else fails, try Frank!” His attempt at levity failed to alter her mood. She shook her head and wiped a tear from her cheek.

“I guess I need a parent, confessor, or counselor, whatever. Are you volunteering?”

“I’ve been called counselor from time to time. But that’s not the kind you mean, is it?”

“No. I need someone to confide in. And the issue isn’t a legal one.”

“Psychological counseling isn’t my forte. But I know how to listen. And I care about you as a friend. If you think I can help, I’m ready.”

“I’m not happy. I used to look forward so much to children and family, but then I got into the swing of things here. I love the work, and everyone — especially you — you’ve all been so encouraging. Before the pregnancy I was harboring all kinds of fantasies: ‘Upstart on first case wins huge verdict over veteran defense lawyer.’ ‘Youngest woman ever appointed to federal bench.’ ‘Supreme Court nominee charms judiciary committee. Confirmation inevitable.’ ”  By this time she was laughing through her tears. “God, I don’t know.”

Frank smiled and, pausing to be sure Karen had finished, said: “Well, your self-esteem is intact. Your vision might be a little rosy, but I haven’t seen anything in your performance to make those prospects impossible in theory. My goodness, what a feather that would be in the cap of F & D. The trouble, as you see it, is motherhood getting in the way. Am I right?”

“Yes. I mean, right now I’m putting in sixty hours or more a week, and I don’t see doing the work in less. So where’s the time for motherhood going to come from? Obviously I’m not going to ignore the baby. So my work suffers. And there go all those rosy visions.”

“What does Alan say about all this?”

“He wants the baby and he’s very supportive so long as he gets it. He doesn’t object to my going back to work when the child’s at school — even before, part time. But I can’t see leaving a newborn in someone else’s care while I pursue goals that are basically selfish.”

Frank got up, paced with his hands behind his back, and stopped in front of his desk.

“I’d be less than honest if I trivialized your concerns,” he said. “It’s not as if women didn’t rise to high positions in law even with families, so don’t think of your situation as either/or. But it’s an extra challenge, who can deny it? We’ll have to see. There’ll be a place for you here whenever you’re ready to come back, with conditions as flexible as I can make them. I promised you that, and I intend to keep my promise. What more can I say?”

“But it won’t be like now, will it?”

“I don’t have any control over that. A child will affect your life.”

She looked at him for several seconds. “Women just aren’t equal, are they?” she replied with a tinge of bitterness. “We’d never be having this conversation if I were a man.”

“You’re right. But this isn’t a matter of male preference. It’s biology. Women have children, and that takes time, energy, and attention. There’s no way men can share equally in reproduction. So men have more time, energy, and attention for other things, compared with women who bear children. That’s not sexism; it’s plain math.”

“That’s not fair, is it? Women do all the work of propagating the species and they’re rewarded by being discriminated against. Aren’t we ever going to get past that kind of bias?”

“Not all distinctions between men and women are bias. This firm hires women, assigns them work, and pays them on a par with men. I certainly hope you haven’t felt discriminated against here. If there’s been even a single occasion, I want to know about it, because it doesn’t fit with our policy or, as far as I’m aware, anyone’s individual values. We’ve tried sincerely to nurture your growth as a lawyer without any regard to your gender. Do you feel otherwise?”

“No, I can vouch for your fairness the whole time I’ve been with the firm. But I see that my gender-blind status doesn’t extend from here on.”

Frank began to pace again, shaking his head. She wished he’d sit down. His pacing was irritating her and making her feel at a disadvantage. Oblivious to her discomfort, he went on:

“You’re wrong. The only thing that matters is what you give to the firm, not what you are. If you feel disadvantaged after you return, compare yourself with women who don’t have small children, not with men. Then compare those women with the men. If you still feel sex is the issue, then we have a problem.”

“So equal treatment comes at the price of not having children. Do you consider that fair?”

He stopped walking and faced her, hands still behind his back.

“That’s the price men pay, isn’t it? Only they don’t have a choice. You do, and any man who envied you that choice wouldn’t get an argument from me. I suggest you’re being unfair if you pick one option and then claim it’s unfair to lose out on the option you didn’t pick.”

“This so-called choice is nothing but a pseudo-choice.” Her voice was angry now. “Men can’t have children, so there’s no choice but for women to have them.”

“Women aren’t duty-bound to have children. There are more than enough children to go around, and the population just keeps growing. No, it is a matter of choice, and that means living with the choice you make.”

“I wish that argument had come up when we talked in April. ‘Alan,’ I would have said to my husband, ‘it’s my choice whether I have children. Frank said so. And I don’t want any.’ ”

Frank laughed. “Well spoken, counselor. I see your point. You do have to consider his expectations. Between you and me, what would Alan have said if you’d refused outright?”

“I’d hate to put it to the test. He’d have every right to divorce me.”

Frank had to admit that the issue was more complex than he had described it. The math of the office wasn’t the only math. He stopped before her and pulled himself to his full height.

“How tall am I?”

Puzzled at the question, she looked at the figure towering over her. “Five foot ten?”

“On the nose. I played basketball in junior high, but five-ten’s as tall as I ever got. Do you think I could allege height discrimination if I didn’t make a professional team?”

“Absolutely. They should be required to take you, put you in the game, and only bench you after enough of the real players have tripped over your head.”

He opened his arms in a gesture of concession. “So I had to become a lawyer. I didn’t even have the choice of playing pro basketball.”

There was a gap between them that could not be bridged. Still, she felt better for having let off some steam. She decided she could deal with the inevitable.