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  Angela takes a step toward me. "What happened after your son died?"

  "I had more medical complications. When I stood up to go to the bathroom, I got dizzy and short of breath. I started having chest pains. It turned out that I had a blood clot that had developed postpartum, which had settled in my lungs. I was put on heparin, and during blood tests, the doctors learned I had a genetic condition called an AT III deficiency--basically, it means I'm susceptible to blood clots, and the pregnancy probably made it worse. But the first question I asked was whether I'd still be able to have a baby."

  "What was the answer?"

  "That this could happen again. There could be even more severe complications. But that ultimately if I wanted to try to conceive again--I could."

  "Did Max want to try to have another baby?" Angela asks.

  "I thought so," I admit. "He always had been on the same page as me before. But after the visit at the doctor's office, he told me that he couldn't be with me because I wanted a baby more than anything in the world--and that wasn't what he wanted."

  "What did he want?"

  I look up. "A divorce," I say.

  "So you were still reeling from the death of your child, and dealing with all these medical complications, and then your husband told you he wanted a divorce. What was your reaction?"

  "I really can't remember. I think I went to bed for about a month. Everything was a blur. I couldn't focus. I couldn't do anything, really."

  "What did Max do?"

  "He moved out, and went to live with his brother."

  "Who represented you in your divorce?"

  I shrug. "We represented ourselves. We didn't have any money or property, so it didn't seem as if it was going to be complicated. I was still so numb back then, I barely even remember going to court. I signed whatever papers came in the mail."

  "Did the three frozen embryos at the clinic ever cross your mind during the divorce proceedings?" Angela says.

  "No."

  "Even though you still wanted a child?"

  "At the time," I explain, "I wanted a child with a spouse who loved me. I thought that was Max; I was wrong."

  "Are you married now?"

  "Yes," I say. "To Vanessa Shaw." Just saying her name makes me feel like I can breathe easier. "She's a school counselor at Wilmington High. I'd met her years earlier, when she asked me to do some music therapy with an autistic child. I ran into her again, and she asked me to work with another child--a suicidal teenage girl. Gradually, we began to hang out as friends."

  "Did something happen that brought you closer together?"

  "She saved my life," I say flatly. "I was hemorrhaging, and she was the one who found me and called an ambulance. I needed a D & C, and as a result of the procedure I learned that I had endometrial cancer and needed a hysterectomy. It was a very, very difficult time for me."

  I am not looking at Max, now. I'm not sure how much of this he even knows.

  "I knew, once I had that hysterectomy, I'd never have a baby," I say.

  "Did your relationship with Vanessa change?"

  "Yes. She took care of me, after the surgery. We spent a lot of time together--hanging out, running errands, cooking, whatever--and I started to realize that when I wasn't with her, I really wanted to be. That I liked her as more than an ordinary friend."

  "Zoe, had you ever had a same-sex relationship before?"

  "No," I say, carefully picking my words. "I know it seems strange, but when you are attracted to people, it's because of the details. Their kindness. Their eyes. Their smile. The fact that they can get you to laugh when you need it the most. I felt all those things for Vanessa. The fact that she was a woman--well, it was unexpected, but it was really the least important part of the equation."

  "That seems hard to understand, given the fact that you were married to a man . . ."

  I nod. "I think that's why it took me a while to realize I was in love with Vanessa. I just didn't get it. I'd had female friends before and never felt like I wanted a physical relationship with them. But once our relationship did take that turn, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. As if not having her in my life would be like asking me to stop breathing air and start breathing water instead."

  "Do you call yourself a lesbian now?"

  "I call myself Vanessa's spouse. But if I have to wear someone else's label in order to be with her forever, then I will."

  "What happened after you fell in love?" Angela asks.

  "I moved into her house. This April, we got married in Fall River."

  "At some point did you two talk about having a family?"

  "On our honeymoon," I say. "I had assumed, after my hysterectomy, that I'd never have children. But I had three frozen embryos with my own genetic material in them . . . and, now, a partner with a uterus who could carry those babies to term."

  "Did Vanessa want to gestate the embryos?"

  "She was the one who suggested it," I say.

  "What happened next?"

  "I called the clinic and asked to use the embryos. I was told that my spouse had to sign off on it. But they didn't mean Vanessa--they meant Max. So I went to him and asked for his permission to use the embryos. I knew that he didn't want a baby--that was why he'd asked for a divorce. I honestly believed he would understand."

  "Did he?"

  "He said that he'd think about it."

  Angela folds her arms. "Did Max seem different to you at that meeting from the man you used to know?"

  I look at him. "Max used to be a surfer dude. A laid-back guy who didn't wear a watch and didn't have an agenda and was always a half hour late. He'd get his hair cut only because I reminded him to do it; he never remembered to wear a belt. But when I went to talk to Max about the embryos, he was at work. And even though he was doing manual labor--landscaping--he was wearing a tie. On a Saturday."

  "Did Max get back to you regarding the embryos?"

  "Yes," I say bitterly. "He had papers served, suing me for the right to use them."

  "How did that make you feel?" Angela asks.

  "I was angry. And confused. He didn't want to be a father; he'd told me so himself. He didn't even have a relationship with anyone, as far as I knew. He didn't want the embryos. He just didn't want me to have them."

  "When you were married to Max, did he have a problem with homosexuality?"

  "We didn't really talk about it. But I never knew him to be judgmental before."

  "During your marriage," Angela asks, "did you often see his brother?"

  "Not very often at all."

  "How would you describe your relationship with Reid?"

  "Contentious."

  "And with Liddy?" Angela asks.

  I shake my head. "I just don't get that woman."

  "Did you know that Reid had paid for your fifth cycle of IVF?"

  "I had no idea, until I heard him testify. It was a huge stress for us, because we didn't know how we could afford it--and then one day Max came home and said he had it all figured out, that he had found a credit card with zero interest, and I believed him." I hesitate, correct myself. "I was stupid enough to believe him."

  "Did Max at any point tell you that he wanted the embryos to go to his brother and sister-in-law?"

  "No. I learned about that when a motion was filed."

  "And what was your reaction?"

  "I couldn't believe he'd do that to me," I say. "I'm forty-one. Even if my eggs were still worth anything, insurance won't cover fertility treatments for me to harvest them again. This is literally my only chance to have my own biological child with someone I love."

  "Zoe," Angela says, "have you and Vanessa talked about what Max's relationship to these embryos might be if you receive the court's permission to gain custody, and you have children?"

  "Whatever Max wants. Whatever he's ready for. If he wants to be a part of the babies' lives, we'd understand; and if he doesn't want to, we will respect that."

  "So . . . you're willing to let the chi