DeadSoonEnough_AJuniperSongMystery - (EPUB全文下载)

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Table of Contents
About the Author
Copyright Page
 
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To Peter
 
“Who still talks nowadays of the extermination of the Armenians?”
—Adolf Hitler, 1939
 
“I do, bitch. Hope it’s a hot day in hell.”
—Nora Mkrtchian, 2012
 
One
When I was twenty-two, I sold three sets of eggs for a total of $48,000. I was broke, bored, and quietly depressed, and had no strength to fight the call of easy money. It was a questionable decision, but I’ve made enough of those that this one doesn’t keep me up at night.
I’d seen advertisements for egg donors in the Yale paper, but back then I was still on the payroll of a hardworking immigrant mom who saw no better way to spend money than to push her shitty kid through the Ivy League. The ads made a bit of a splash in cafeteria conversations, but as far as I knew, no one really responded. We had a whole campus full of prestigious eggs and, in aggregate at least, a brash imperviousness to financial pressure.
That changed for many of us soon enough. I left Yale with an attractive diploma, an unattractive transcript, and zero to negligible job prospects. I moved to L.A., not because I had dreams, or even family anymore, but because it was a city I knew, one that I liked better than others.
One day, after pinning tutoring fliers in coffee shops full of dead-eyed college graduates just as unemployed as I was, I came across a New York Times article about Asian-American egg donors. Apparently, our eggs commanded high premiums for rarity on the market—Asian-American women waited longer than average to have babies, chasing those professional dreams with their biological clocks ticking softly in the background.
It was like a help wanted ad singing my name.
There was another reason, too, an enabling reason if not an actual impetus—despite my sadness and weakness of spirit I felt, in a way, invincible. It wasn’t that I ............

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