by Ashley Beale
"Deal."
Sumner hugs me off before I climb out of her car to get into mine. I wish her good luck before closing the door. I'm excited for her to finally attempt sticking her feet into the dating pool. I had encouraged her several times in high school, but she was too scared of being grounded or having her parents in any way object to her decisions. She hasn't even had sex yet. Not that I can say a whole lot about the topic.
I lost my virginity to Dustin during senior prom last spring. He broke up with me three days later. So I've had sex once.
It chewed a chunk of my confidence away, which I didn't have much of anyways. After many tears and conversations with my friends, I chopped it up to a life lesson somehow. We were together most of high school, and he never once encouraged me to sleep with him, even if there were subliminal hints now and again, so I'm not exactly sure what the life lesson is- but that is what we still decided it was.
Sometimes I want to pretend it never even happened. I want to tell my next boyfriend I'm a virgin, because I do feel like one more often than not. I just can't justify lying about it, but I'm not sure I'll feel comfortable enough telling someone I've had sex once with a long term boyfriend then he turned around and broke up with me. Whoever I'm dating I'm sure will think I royally suck in the bedroom, and not the good kind of sucking either.
I sneak through the house once I get home, heading straight for the bedroom. I have a minifridge in my room, my dad had bought it last Christmas in case I had decided to dorm somewhere for college. I pull out some yogurt and Sprite then settle on my bed with my laptop, opening it to do more research on the subject. The more I think about it and the more I keep seeing the numbers pop up on my computer screen, the more I become obsessed with the idea.
Nearly an hour later a knock sounds at the door. Mom pops her head in, so I close the computer, not wanting her to see anything I've written down. Her face looks more worn than normal. Dad's death has done a serious number on her, and I wouldn't be surprised if I had to force her into rehab sometime sooner rather than later.
"Hi, sweetie," she chimes in. Her voice raspy. "Did you have a good day with Sumner?"
"I did."
"Good." She comes over to sit on the edge of the bed, looking around my room. She doesn't come in here often. I'm nervous for what her reasoning is. "What did you two do?"
"Grabbed some food, did some window shopping, and got our piggies done." I wiggle my toes in her direction to show her my freshly painted pink nails.
She runs her hand over one of my toes, her hands freezing cold. I jolt, bringing my legs up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. Her hand remains on my bedspread while she looks past me to the window. With a deep sigh, she mutters, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I haven't been the mother you need."
I'm not sure what exactly to say. It's okay? It hasn't been, but I've learned to live with it. I can't quite say that either, so I nod my head slowly, while trying to conjure a way to roll it off my shoulders. "Don't worry about it," I choose to tell her.
"No, I've been wrong. You needed me and I've been... distant. My doctor recommended a grieving counselor, but I told her I don't want to do the one on one, so I'm going to start a group therapy. I start tomorrow night at United Methodist Church, then this upcoming week I’m going to start going to Narcotics anonymous. Do you want to come with me, to the grieving group that is?"
"Um, not really." I sort of hate saying no, but I really don't want to join. It's not much different than my friends all trying to get me to open up about everything. "But I'm proud of you for going."
She looks down at my blanket, running her hand back and forth over the thread. "That's okay, I thought I'd offer. I won't be home from six to eight, but I'll leave dinner in the oven for you."
"Thank you, Mom." I guess I could give her an A for effort, as she hasn't even cooked dinner once since his passing.
Mom simply nods her head, still not looking at me. While clearing her throat, she stands up, running her hands over her shirt to smooth out the wrinkles that aren't even present. "Okay, well. Have a good night. Love you."
While she heads towards the door, I tell her I love her, too. Then she closes the door behind her. When I open the computer again, I decide that I'm done distracting my brain with the surrogacy stuff. I doubt I'll even go through with it, I just hate seeing my future disappear due to being broke.
Chapter Three
May 22nd
"Ms. Rockwell, the doctor is ready to see you now."
I look up to the nurse dressed in all pink scrubs. Placing down my magazine, I walk after her down the hall.
"Right in here." She points to the room. Walking in, I place my purse down on the chair then stand on the scale while she measures my weight. Then I walk over to sit down on the bench. She takes my blood pressure and temperature, writes everything down, then with a smile says, "Everything looks great. He'll be right in."
"Thank you," I mutter.
Glancing around the room, I look at the different images on the wall. I've never been to a gynecologist before. It's usually my primary care doctor that takes care of all my business. After two solid weeks of looking into every single detail of becoming a surrogate mother, I realized that I do in fact want to become one, however, I want medical advice on it before I take that final approach. It was recommended to see an actual gynecologist before scheduling an appointment, so here I am, sitting in a blue room with posters of drawn vaginas and animated birth canals on the walls.
With a knock first, the door opens, and in walks an older male with his gray hair pulled into a man-bun. I try not to laugh at his attempt. He has a clipboard in hand, which he sets down on the counter before washing his hands. He peeks over at me with a kind smile. "Good morning, Miss Rockwell. I'm Doctor Robinson. How are you feeling today?"
"I'm feeling pretty good."
Wiping his hands on the paper towels, he discards them before picking up his clipboard and looking things over again. "So I see you're in here for a pap smear and counseling. Could you further explain what you need counseling on?"
For the first time I'm becoming nauseous over the idea of everything. "Well... I, um... I have been thinking about becoming a surrogate mother."
Sliding his stool towards me, he takes a seat, nodding his head. "That is extremely noble of you. What has made you decide on this?"
I read online that stating that you're doing it for the money is the absolute last thing you want to do, because nine out of ten agencies will dismiss you. It isn't the only reason, but it's the main reason. Since reading articles and blogs about surrogacy, I realized how special it was to give someone that gift, because all around everyone benefits.
So as I've rehearsed in the bathroom mirror over three dozen times, I explain what I hope he wants to hear. "I met someone recently who was pregnant for someone else, and I thought about how selfless it was. Then I realized I was at a point in my life where I need to make decisions that will affect my future in a positive way. I have no idea if I want kids for myself, but I'm young, healthy, genially happy, and all I have going for myself is college classes. So it has been sitting with me for weeks about how I could be the person to help an entire family be whole. I could give a couple a blessing they've been praying for, while also finishing out college, and figuring out my future."
"Sounds like you've certainly done some thinking on the situation. How do your parents feel about it?"
"Well, my father is no longer with us, and my mother... she is going through rehabilitation." I can feel my face flame red with embarrassment, and it worsens when he scribbles something down on his clipboard.
With a slow nod of the head, he looks back up to me. "So you haven't spoken with her about any of it yet?"
"I haven't. I wanted to know it was going to be an actual possibility first. Like I said, she's trying to fight an addiction. I don't need to add to any of her stress right now." Which is mostly true- that, and I don't want her to discourage me. Right now, if anyone st
arts to discourage me I know I'll back away. I want to be to the point of it being too late before I tell anyone.
He nods his head slowly once more, assessing my face with his eyes. "Do you have any other support system? You do realize you’re going to need it."
"Oh, of course, I have three amazing friends. Sumner, Rochelle, and Penelope." Although, again, I haven't told them yet. I leave that part out though.
"Good. I'm glad to hear. Even just one is great, having three is exceptional. I am going to assume no boyfriend or husband, am I correct in that?"
"You are."
"So no birth control or contraceptive at all?"
"Well... I was prescribed birth control pills almost two years ago, but I haven't taken them in over six months."
"Are you sexually active at all?"
"No."
He marks a few more things down on his clipboard. He continues to ask me questions about my previous sexual encounters, if I have any STD's, and other questions I don't even understand. Once he feels comfortable enough in his decision making process, he then settles back and asks what I want to know about everything.
I feel overly educated on the entire thing, only for the sake it has been weeks of researching questions and methods, and everything else you need to know. So I tell him I'm all set with questions. He exits the room to allow me to undress from the waist done, giving a cheap cloth to drape over myself. When he comes back in he lays me back on the soft bench clothed in the same blue fabric I have over me, before pulling out stirrups to hold my feet into while he gives me a vaginal exam.
Doctor Robinson continues to talk to me about my friends while he does my pap smear, and to say it’s extremely awkward is an understatement, but knowing my vagina is going to be on display for a few doctors- maybe even potential parents- many times in the near future, I breathe through the discomfort and answer his oddball questions. Which I'm sure were only to be a distraction, even if they had the opposite effect.
When we're done and his hands are washed, we both sit back how we originally were. "Okay. I won't have the initial results for a few days, however everything seems to look wonderful. I do want to warn you, with your limited sexual history and the lack of children of your own, there are actually very few surrogacy agencies that will accept you. Many have extremely strict guidelines. However, there are the limited few that actually pay extra to have someone of your youth and health. I'll have the nurse give you a list of the ones I recommend before you leave, and when you call around, give them my name as a reference. It could still take weeks, months, maybe even years, so prepare yourself for that fact. It isn't something that is going to happen overnight."
"I completely understand," I tell him. Even if I feel that bit of disappointment within. I know it's not going to be overnight, but I don't want to wait years. In fact, I can’t wait years. "Thank you for everything."
"You are more than welcome." The doctor stands up and holds his hand out to mine. With a firm hand shake, he smiles nicely. "I'm pleased to hear that you're not only trying to better your future, but the future to a family you've yet to meet. You're going to go places in life, Miss Rockwell. Best of luck to you with everything."
"Thank you." For the first time I feel pride over everything else for my decision- even if my original and main intentions aren't exactly noble, like he had claimed me to be.
Arriving home, I have piles of homework I need to attend to. It's spread all over my bed. I stare at it, not in the mood whatsoever to do any of it. Sumner had mentioned earlier that her father had a movie premier to attend later and she wanted me to tag along. I excused myself from the fun because of the amount of homework I have, but as I stare at it, I realize that is the last thing I want to do.
Walking over to the closet, I start to rummage through the lack of clothes I have. When I find my favorite electric blue mini dress with only one sleeve, I pull it out and toss it on the bed. I call Sumner and put it on speaker while I discard the shorts and tank top I have on.
"Hey!" She yells over the phone when she answers. I can hear music thumping in the background, so she may not be able to hear me well.
"Hey," I yell back. "Are you still at the movie premier?"
"I am! Are you still doing homework?"
I look at the books underneath the dress I'm about to pick up. I haven't touched any of them- and I'm not going to either. "All done," I tell her. "I want to join you." The way I see it is one last hoorah before my life changes for a long while.
"Oh my goshhh," she squeals. "Yes, please do! I'll text you the address. Give my dad's name, I'll make sure you're on the list." She rushes out her words and clicks the end button before I can add another thing.
I slide the dress over my head and pull the fabric so it fits perfectly in place. Looking myself over in the mirror, I realize it's a little looser than it was the last time I wore it- at high school graduation last June. Probably with the stress of everything in life lately. I don't like feeling this skinny, but I guess it's better than the alternative. I don't think it matters what size you are, as a female I doubt anyone is entirely happy with their body. There is always going to be a flaw they don't like.
Once I fix my makeup and hair to look presentable- since I know tons of paparazzi is going to be there- I do a once over in the mirror, adding white high heels to my attire. I actually feel like I'll belong with Sumner for once. Especially when I line my lips in red lipstick, something I've only done twice before.
Mom is passed out in the living room chair when I walk through the living room to the front door. I turn off the TV and side lamp, then I lock up the door on the way out. She has been doing better with her addiction, yet she has a long way to go still. She hasn't said much more to me about her meetings, but I do know she goes.
I get to the movie premiere as all the red carpet cameras and crew are clearing out. Nearly everyone is inside, with a few people lingering around outdoors. A valet takes my car, so I don't have far too walk, and it feels like a different kind of power walking along the red carpet, knowing how many celebrities have before me. A decent handful of them tonight.
I text Sumner to let her know I'm here, and she gives me the location where she is at, which isn't far from me. I spot her moments later, and wave when she sees me in return. It's crowded, but not quite as intense as I assumed it'd be. Then again, the building is huge and there are many rooms.
"You look amazing," Sumner proclaims with excitement when we're close enough to one another.
I felt amazing, until I saw her. Her dress is bright red, mid-thigh, and fits her body like a glove. Her hair and makeup was obviously professionally done, and the jewels around her neck probably cost more than my parent's home. "Thanks," I tell her. Regardless to the fact I feel less than extravagant next to her. "You look great, too."
She leans to give me a hug and a quick kiss to the check. "I'm so happy you made it. Come, Dad wants to say hi."
I follow behind Sumner as we make our way through the crowd to her father and the crowd he is in. There are several actors and other recognizable people around. It gives my stomach this odd feeling of intensity, I've never seen this many famous people in one group, even living my whole life near Hollywood. It shouldn't be this much of a thrill, but it undeniably is.
"Daddy, look who is here."
Sumner's Dad, York Nysson, turns around when she speaks to him. He smiles genially at me and runs his hand along my bare shoulder. "Good to see you, Monica. I'm glad you were able to make it."
I'm concentrated on him, but my body is hyperaware of my surroundings too. As he is in a group with Paul Norland, Samuel Winston, and Danny Daniels, all of which are extremely famous and well sought out for leading roles. In fact, Paul Norland received an Oscar just last year.
"Thank you," I tell York. "I'm glad to be here. Thank you for allowing me to join Sumner." This is the first time I've been on the list with her. She wasn't allowed to attend anything until she turned eighteen, so this is only her third o
r fourth time.
He gives me a curt nod. "You got it." He turns to the side a little, giving me a better look at the crowd he is standing within. "I would like to introduce you to a few of my friends. Paul, Samuel, Scotland, Kyle, and Danny. Guys, this is my daughter Sumner, and her friend, Monica."
My stomach flips when he says my name, and once again when they all smile and say their greetings. I give a tight lip smile back, too nervous to do anything more. Sumner takes in the spotlight by saying hello with a gorgeous high-wattage smile.
After Sumner gives her dad a kiss to the cheek, the two of us walk towards the line of tables to each grab a drink. No one ID's us when we each get a glass of champagne, and I feel so... elegant.
We're able to mingle with different people throughout the next hour, but for the most part the two of us stand together and gossip about who we see and the clothing people are wearing. "I need to use the restroom," I tell her, after we finish off our second glass of champagne.
"Yeah, I do too. Let's go." She takes the glass from my hand and sets it on the table next to us, along with hers. Then we walk to the back where there is a long hallway lined with full body mirrors. Everything is trimmed in gold along with the fixtures. I get lost staring at everything until Sumner pulls slightly on my arm towards the women's powder room.
Walking through the door, Sumner widens her eyes with surprise. "Holy crap, I don't feel so well." She rushes into a stall.
I stand outside of it for a moment. "Are you okay, Sumner?"
"Um. I will be." She kind of chuckles, off putting me from her reaction two seconds ago.
"What's the matter?"
"I'm assuming it was the champagne, it ran right through me. I'm going to be a few minutes."
I start to chuckle as well. "Gross," I joke. "Well I'll meet you outside the restroom when you're finished, I only have to pee."
"No problem, but I'm warning you, I think I'm going to be a few minutes."