The Martini Shot Read Online Free PDF Page B

that the lively eyed Monroe was the conscience of the outfit.
    After O’Leary had explained the financial aspects of the adoption, in which he pushed for a flat fee rather than itemized billing, they got into the logistics of paperwork, home visits, and matters of timing.
    â€œI’ve heard this process can take years,” said Eleni.
    â€œIf you want a baby that looks like you,” said Monroe.
    â€œYou mean a white baby,” said Van.
    â€œThere is typically a long waiting period for white adoptees,” said O’Leary. “Russia, Eastern Europe. In general you’re talking about children from orphanages who are three, four years old.”
    Van didn’t need to be bait-and-switched by O’Leary. He had heard some stories about those kids. He didn’t have the fortitude or the altruism of the people who were willing to take on those kinds of problems. He wanted a family, not a project. He felt that you could mold a baby easier than you could a child who had been socialized, or unsocialized, in his or her formative years.
    â€œNo,” said Van. “I’m not interested in that scenario. I wouldn’t want a, you know, handicapped kid, either.”
    Van shrugged off Eleni’s reproachful look and shifted his weight in his chair. There was a brief silence as the lawyers digested his remark.
    â€œWould you adopt an African American infant?” said Monroe, looking into Van’s eyes.
    Van hesitated. He felt that he was now a customer in the Baby Store, a situation he’d hoped to avoid. And what did you say to the black woman sitting across the table from you? “I’d rather not adopt a black child”?
    â€œYou mean, what color baby do I want?” he said. “Is that what you’re asking?”
    â€œThis will be easier if we speak freely,” said Monroe.
    â€œWe want whoever needs to be adopted,” said Eleni.
    Van looked at Eleni. In that moment he knew he would love her forever.
    â€œRight,” said Van.
    â€œThen let’s get started,” said Monroe.
    â€œI’ll have my assistant run the contracts,” said O’Leary, standing excitedly, displaying his tall, birdlike frame. “You do want the flat fee, don’t you?”
    Van nodded absently.
    That is how it began.
    They’d been warned that the adoption process was complicated, but for them it was not. The home visits were perfunctory and quick, and they soon “identified” a baby boy after looking at an array of photographs spread like playing cards on a table. Van said to Eleni, “This is kinda weird. When you choose one, you’re rejecting the others, in a way. You know what I mean? What happens to them?  ” Eleni agreed that it was mildly troubling but was steadfast in her belief that they should concentrate on the positive impact they would have on one person’s life rather than bemoaning the fact that they couldn’t help them all. As she was telling him this, her eyes were on the table, and she touched her index finger to the photograph of a black baby who, consciously or not, was staring into the camera, right at them, it seemed, with a startled expression.
    â€œHim,” said Eleni.
    Van said, “Okay.”
    Van suggested they name the baby Dimitrius, in keeping with his intention of giving their children traditional Greek names. Van was third generation and about as Greek as a Turkish bath, but Eleni did not resist, much.
    â€œDimitrius is not a traditional African American name.”
    â€œOkay, we’ll call him Le Dimitrius.”
    â€œStop it. I just think we ought to consider what it will mean for him to carry a name like that.”
    â€œIt’ll toughen him up. Y’know, the bullies used to call me Chevy Van.” Van balled his fists and held them up. “Until I introduced them to Thunder and Lightning.”
    â€œYou were never a fighter.”
    â€œI know it. But that’s