The Surrogate’s Gift

by Davis, L. G.

  Sydney talked her sister, Camille, into giving me a job at her flower shop, Dear Blooms. It’s not my dream job, but it’s something to keep me busy while I sort out my life.

  Sydney is not happy when I tell her I took yet another day off, but she lets it slide. “All right,” she says finally. “Tell me the good news. What’s going on with you?”

  “I met up with the Thorpes.”

  “The Thorpes?” She raises an eyebrow.

  “Yep, the family I want to surrogate for.” I’m not sure whether that’s a verb, but if not, now it is, and I plan on using it.

  Sydney drops her fork onto her plate. “You still want to be a surrogate? I thought it was a phase.”

  “It’s not.” My words come out sharper than I expected them to. “I’m serious about this, Sydney. They want me to give them a baby. I agreed.”

  “Do you know what this means? Do you understand the implications this could have on your life?”

  “Of course I do. I’m going to have to put my life on hold for a while, so I can make a nice couple happy.”

  If she pushes too hard on this, I might have to leave.

  “You don’t even know them.”

  “I do. I feel like I know Marcia. She’s become a friend.”

  Sydney covers her face with her hands. When she drops them, I see the fire in her cocoa brown eyes. “I don’t think you should do this. If you want to feel better about what happened, there are other ways.”

  “Not for me. You know what I went through.” I pick up the napkin and twist it between my fingers. “You know how close I came—”

  “But this is going too far. It’s an extreme way to make yourself feel better.”

  “Look,” I say, annoyance flaring up inside me. “I don’t expect you to understand. This is probably strange to you, but I want to do it. You’re my friend and I’m hoping you will support me. Nothing you say will change my mind.”

  She touches my cheek with a forefinger. “I’m trying. I’m trying to understand. If this is what you want, I don’t have a choice, do I?” She pauses. “I just don’t want you to make a mistake.”

  “I won’t. I’ve made many mistakes in my life. This is not one of them. It’s one of my best decisions.”

  “What does all this mean?” Sydney pushes away her food and folds her arms on the table. She said she would try to understand, but her behavior says otherwise.

  “It means the papers will be drawn up and signed soon, and I’ll go through some tests. After that, I’ll get meds to help the eggs develop, then the egg retrieval procedure will start and—”

  Her head snaps back. “They will be using your eggs? The baby will be half you?”

  “No,” I cut her off. “It’s not going to be my baby. It will be theirs.” I refuse to go down that rabbit hole.

  “But it will be your DNA. How can you ignore that?”

  “I’d appreciate it if you don’t say that again. I’m about to do a good thing. I’ll be making this couple’s dream come true. Let’s leave it at that.”

  “I’m your friend. I don’t want you to end up with regrets. At the end of this, you’re going to give up a child. You could end up hurt.” She blinks her eyes as though she’s close to tears. “Grace, I have two kids. I can never imagine giving them up.”

  “They are your children,” I say. “The baby I’m going to carry won’t be mine. It will be the Thorpes’ kid.”

  “Okay.” She sighs. “I’m just trying to save you from unnecessary pain.”

  “If I don’t do this, it will be way more painful for me. You know that.” I bite down on my trembling lip. “You might think I’m only doing this for them, but they will be doing something for me too.”

  “How much?” She lobs the question at me like a tennis ball. “How much are they paying you for this?”

  I’m not ready for the lecture, but it’s time for her to know the truth.

  “Nothing,” I say, looking down at my food. “I’m not doing this for money.”

  “You’re kidding me, right?” Her voice is sharp now. “This is crazy, Grace. You’ll be giving them the gift of a lifetime and you don’t want them to pay you? Or did they refuse to pay you or something?”

  “No, they wanted to pay me a lot of money, but I told them I don’t need… I don’t want their money. Aside from the medical bills, I’m offering them this gift for free. It’s as much of a gift to myself as it is to them.”

  Sydney shakes her head. “You might not want to hear this, but I’ll say it, anyway. I think you’re making a big mistake. You’re going to regret this.”

  “Fine,” I say. “I’m willing to pay the price.”

  Two

  Dr. Simon Kim, a top Miami OB/GYN, looks up from the papers on his desk and smiles. “Congratulations. You’re going to be parents.”

  His gaze flits between Travis and Marcia. I’m all right with it. It’s their baby, not mine.

  Marcia’s hand flies to her mouth and she lets out a squeal of delight. “It worked?”

  “It sure did. You’re one of the lucky ones.” The doctor smiles.

  When he exits the room to offer us privacy, Travis jumps from his seat and paces the room, his hands buried deep into his already unruly hair. The excitement that has been building up inside my chest turns cold. What if he regrets this? Maybe he never expected it to actually happen.

  When he turns around, the smile on his face makes me release the breath I was holding. He beams as he pulls Marcia from her chair and into his arms, holding her tight.

  “I’m going to be a father,” he says, eyeing me over Marcia’s shoulder. A tear trickles down his cheek.

  Marcia breaks the embrace first and turns to me.

  “Thank you so much, Grace,” she says, her voice thick with tears. She wraps me in her arms and the scents of jasmine and sandalwood soothe me. For a small and frail woman, she’s surprisingly strong. We cling to each other, crying and laughing at the same time.

  It both comforts and terrifies me to know that this is really going to happen.

  What if I fail? What if I can’t pull it off? Reports show that one in eight pregnancies end in miscarriage.

  I found out I was pregnant a week ago, but I kept it to myself and did several more tests to make sure. All of them were positive.

  When I told Marcia over the phone two days ago, she said they’d fly to Miami. They wanted to be present when the pregnancy was confirmed by a doctor.

  Now here we are. It’s real.

  She finally lets go of me, and Travis takes her place. I only give him a brief hug.

  “We should celebrate,” Marcia suggests. “Come to the hotel with us. Let’s have lunch together.”

  “I’d love to, but I can’t. I’m sorry. I have to go to work.”

  Work. Every time I say the word, I think of the job I used to have, the one I lost. It’s hard to believe that I was once the chief editor at Living It, a motivational magazine whose mission was to empower and inspire women in life and business. I had a great salary, a lavish townhouse, and a life I loved. Now I’m working at a job that doesn’t light me up inside and only helps me pass the time.

  I like flowers, but not enough to be surrounded by them three days a week. I definitely don’t have the patience to deal with indecisive brides who don’t know what they want for their wedding bouquets or table decor. Or men who order identical bouquets for both their mistresses and wives on Valentine’s Day.

  “Is that a good idea?” Travis asks, frowning.

  “What do you mean?” Marcia eyes him suspiciously.

  He puts an arm around her. “Grace is pregnant with our child now and work might be stressful. We should help.”

  “I agree with Travis.” Marcia’s voice is strained, but she puts her hand on my shoulder. “Let us support you financially during this time. You don’t have to work if you don’t want to.”

  “Really? I… I don’t know what to say.”

  My instinct is to tell her that I l
ove my job and want to continue working, but I’d be lying. The past few months have been hard, but I haven’t given up my florist job because I didn’t want to disappoint Sydney. Plus, I’d had so much trouble holding down a job before that.

  “You know what?” Travis says. “You don’t have to give us an answer now. Give it some thought and let us know what you decide. We’ll do whatever you want.”

  Marcia beams at her husband. She’s happy to finally be able to give him something he’s desperate for.

  When the doctor returns to the room, he briefs me on everything I need to know as a newly pregnant woman. He also tells me about the medications I should or should not take and goes through all the important appointments I’m supposed to keep during the nine months of pregnancy.

  I’m familiar with everything he’s telling me. I’ve Googled it all and read lots of books about it. Marcia, on the other hand, is taking notes, occasionally looking up at the doctor as if she’s in a lecture.

  The three of us exit the glass and steel building together. The silence is instantly replaced by the sounds of a buzzing Miami city street, car horns honking, cellphones ringing, and heels tapping against the baking sidewalk.

  Marcia pulls me into another hug. “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to us.” She repeats their offer to support me financially.

  “I have an even better idea,” Travis counters. “Move in with us. We have enough space.”

  Marcia’s head snaps back, and she narrows her eyes at her husband before pulling herself together.

  “It’s a fantastic idea,” she says. “We’d get a chance to be a part of the pregnancy, and all your expenses will be paid.”

  “That’s… well, that’s generous of you,” I say, touched by their kindness.

  “No, Grace, what you’re doing for us is more generous than anything you could ever imagine.” Marcia blinks away the moisture in her eyes. “It worked. Can you believe it?”

  I shake my head and smile. “No, I can’t. I’m so happy for you both.”

  “Let us know what you decide,” Travis says, giving me another hug as their rented limousine pulls up and they step inside. I remain standing in front of the building, tempted to put my hands on my belly, but unable to for some reason.

  A baby is growing inside me, and it’s not mine.

  Joy blooms inside my chest and spreads to my entire body. I haven’t felt this content in a while. I must have a huge grin on my face because the strangers walking by glance at me suspiciously. I don’t care.

  When I climb into a cab, I give the driver my address. As soon as I lean my head back, tears come.

  I lied when I told Marcia and Travis I was going back to work. I’ve taken another day off. I spent most of the morning on my knees in front of the toilet, retching. Hopefully, the morning sickness won’t last. Some women are luckier than others.

  I think about Marcia and Travis’s offer. If I don’t work, I’ll be able to focus entirely on the baby, to make sure I have no stress that could negatively impact the pregnancy.

  Whatever happens, I will deliver on this promise.

  I can already see it in my mind, their happy faces as I hand them their baby. I hold on to that thought until I enter my apartment.

  As usual, it’s dark inside. I hardly open the blinds anymore. Normally, I like the darkness inside my home to match the darkness inside me. It’s more comfortable that way.

  But not today. Today I let the light in. It floods the room, revealing the surrounding mess. The high ceilings, molding, and big windows normally make my apartment look bigger than it is, but all the junk lying around makes it look claustrophobic. Fast food cartons and old newspapers lying everywhere, clothes hanging from the backs of chairs. A bra on top of the TV.

  Shame floods my cheeks. If it weren’t for Sydney getting me the place for cheap, I’d never have been able to afford to live in this part of town. Instead of being grateful, I’ve turned it into a dumpster.

  Disgusted by the way I’ve been living, I throw open the windows, play a pop song from my feel-good playlist, and launch myself headfirst into scrubbing, dusting, and wiping every surface until it gleams.

  It takes me over an hour before I see progress. I’m busy wiping the dishes in the kitchenette when the doorbell rings. I ignore it. I’m not expecting visitors.

  But it rings again, and again. Confused, I make my way to the door and pick up the receiver.

  “Grace, it’s me. Open up.”

  My heart sinks. It’s Sydney. I haven’t spoken to her for two days, not since I told her I was pregnant. After that, she hung up and didn’t pick up when I called back. I can guess where this conversation will go and I’m not in the mood for it.

  The first thing she does when she comes upstairs is glance at my stomach, even before looking into my face.

  “If you’re here to judge me, don’t. I can’t afford to be stressed right now.”

  She closes the door and turns to me. “I’m here because I care about you.”

  I do know she cares about me. We’ve known each other since college, and she always had my back. She has been by my side when my life was coming undone. She held me when I cried, was silent when I didn’t want to speak, and listened when I was ready. She helped me piece my life back together and get used to my new normal.

  But I’m tired of constantly trying to convince her that what I’m doing is right for me, and nothing she can say or do will change my mind. It’s too late now, anyway.

  She looks around my apartment and raises her eyebrows. “It’s clean around here. You must be feeling better.”

  “I feel great.” I fold my arms across my chest.

  “I’m glad to hear that. I mean it, Grace.”

  “But you still don’t agree with what I’m doing.”

  “How could I? You’re throwing your life away. Instead of starting over and giving yourself a chance, you’re giving a chance to someone else. All because you want to get rid of your guilt. What happened is not your fault.”

  “We both know that’s not true.”

  She takes a seat on the couch next to Barney, the one-eyed teddy bear I’ve had since I was a child. I sit next to her and put my hand on hers.

  “I need to do this. I can’t let them down. I signed a contract.”

  “Contracts are broken all the time, just like promises. It will be unpleasant, but—”

  I snatch my hand away. “I can’t believe you’re telling me this right now. Especially since you know what happened.”

  “I’m sorry.” She covers her face with her hands. When she looks at me again, her eyes are damp. “Okay, if this is what you want, I’ll do my best to support you. But I can’t promise that I won’t bring it up again. I’m your friend. It’s my responsibility to look out for you.”

  “I do appreciate you, but this is important to me. I need you to respect my decision.”

  “I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?” She pulls me close. “Promise me that after the baby comes, you will get your life together.”

  I pull away from her and smile. “I can promise you that.”

  As I say the words to her, I make the same promise to myself. This is what I need to do. Once it’s done, I’ll have a clean slate to start over. I don’t know whether I’ll be happy, but I’ll be able to sleep better.

  “Camille told me you didn’t come to work this entire week,” Sydney says finally.

  I get to my feet and go to the small kitchen, only a few steps from the couch. “Do you want some tea?” I ask, my back turned to her.

  “You won’t get out of this conversation. Don’t even try.”

  I turn around to face her. “I wasn’t feeling well today. Morning sickness.”

  There’s so much at stake for me right now. Going to a job I don’t like and having to deal with customers who stress me out can’t be good for me and the baby.

  “You don’t want this job, do you?” she asks. “I’m getting the feeling you want out.”


  “I’m sorry. I tried to like it, but it’s not my thing. I wanted it to work out, but it’s a stepping stone and nothing more. I did tell you it won’t be permanent.”

  “I know. I just wanted you to have something to do.” She crosses her legs. “What are your plans? It will be hard for you to find a job while pregnant.”

  I pour myself a glass of flavored water and walk back to the couch. “Actually, I don’t need to work, not right now. The Thorpes made me an offer.”

  “What kind of offer?”

  I stare into my water. “They want to support me financially.”

  “They should. That’s the least they can do. I still don’t understand why you’re doing it for free.”

  I take a sip of my water. “They also offered me a place to stay… in Wellice.”

  “Excuse me? They want you to move?” Sydney’s voice is louder now. “They’re asking you to give up everything? Why not mail you a check every month?”

  “They want to be involved in this pregnancy as much as possible. I think it’s a good idea. I’m thinking of accepting the offer.”

  Three

  Past

  My phone beeped inside my bag for the third time, but I didn’t check to see who it was. Thirty more minutes and the brainstorming meeting with the Living It features team would be over.

  The ideas for our August issue were flowing nicely. Next week we’d start the process of turning those ideas into a magazine in time to meet the deadlines set by the printer and the circulation department. The phone call had to wait. I couldn’t allow anything to break the momentum.

  But when the phone vibrated again less than five minutes later, I took a peek.

  Rachel’s name flashed on the screen. She never called me at work—not unless it was an emergency.

  “Excuse me, guys. I need to take this.” I took the call into the hallway.

  “Rachel, is everything all right with the baby?” I pressed the phone harder against my ear, my eyes shut tight.