by Amy Brent
She was a slight thing, with big brown eyes and even bigger hair and a caramel colored skin. Her lips were a pinkish red and stretched as she smiled. She looked young, healthy, fit. The right kind of body for a baby. Not like Marina's who was patched up with makeup to hide the wrinkles, who had had two plastic surgeries on her breasts to make her body seem as young as she wanted to feel.
"Camille Tyson?" Marina asked. The girl nodded. "We're the Owens. I'm Marina, and this is my husband, Mark."
I held out a hand and Camille took it. Her skin was soft and warm. She wore jeans so tight it looked painted on and a loose shirt that had settled around her breasts, outlining her body. Hourglass figure. Narrow waist. Upright. None of that mattered.
We sat down on opposite sides of the coffee table that was littered with maternity magazines. One was open. Camille had been reading.
"Do you understand what we're expecting of you?" Marina asked. She spoke to Camille like she was a child. Camille nodded.
"Carry the baby to term."
"Our baby," Marina emphasized. Camille nodded. She didn't look like the kind of person that could do with a baby of her own right now. I knew exactly how she felt.
"All your expenses will be paid for the duration of the pregnancy," I said. Marina glanced at me. We hadn't discussed this but I'd decided it for myself. Marina did her best to spend as much as she could of it, but in the end, it was still my money. An expression flicked over Camille's face when I said it but it was too quick for me to read.
"How long do you need to think about this?" Marina took out her handheld and poised the stylus. "We are in a bit of a hurry, you can imagine."
She was in a hurry. I wished she would stop saying we and us like this was something I'd been dreaming of feverishly.
"I don't need to think about this." Camille looked from Marina to me and back. Her eyes were a deep, dark brown. The kind that reminded me of varnished wood, dark, rich.
"You're sure?"
She nodded. "I'm ready to go when you are."
Marina looked at me and there was pure happiness in her eyes. I couldn't remember when last she'd looked at me like that. Her eyes seemed a brighter green than usual and for a second I thought that maybe, just maybe, this would be a turning point for us. Maybe this would be the impossible miracle to save us rather than the spiral of despair I'd come to see it as.
We got up, said our goodbyes and waited in the interview room until Camille left.
"She's very tan," Marina said when we were alone.
"Does that matter? Our baby will have our genes. It's not necessary to discriminate."
"She's young, too."
I rolled my eyes. "Maybe it will work, then."
The quip was unnecessary and I regretted it the moment I said it, but it was too late to take it back. I would man up and mean it. I wasn't going to grovel. Marina's face was an expressionless blank and when Doctor Kamal cleared his throat in the door we both plastered our perfect smiles on and walked into his office.
"I have more interviews set up for you," he said.
"That's not necessary." I was the one that spoke up. Marina had opened her mouth to say something, maybe she wanted to see more girls. I was happy with Camille. "We want Camille."
See, I could do we and us when Marina didn't want it, too. She glared at me but I ignored her.
"She's ready to start, so all that's left is to set a date."
Doctor Kamal nodded. He glanced at Marina but she was pouting like a child. She would sulk before the rest of the day and if I didn't do something special for her we would fight. We could go out for dinner later, blow a grand. She would forget. If I threw money at her everything was right with the world. I wondered when I'd stopped seeing that as a problem. Maybe when that had gotten easier than trying to argue with her.
"I'll have to do a couple of tests, do some checkups on all of you, and then we can start harvesting."
He made it sound terrible, like were crops and we were ready for picking. That was how it would work, though. My side would be easy - a cup and a porn magazine. Marina's would be more invasive. I was glad she was the woman.
"I'll phone you and let you know a date. I have to congratulate you on this, though, Mr. and Mrs. Owen. The next step is parenthood."
He smiled. We smiled. None of us meant it. I wondered if he knew how worried I was. Maybe he just knew how hard life with Marina would be for the next couple of days. Maybe he was just using a business smile and he didn't care about me and my personal life at all.
Either way, this was happening. Smile and wave.
Camille
I had an appointment with the doctor. Three weeks and it hadn't really sunk in. I was sure it would only happen when the baby was inside of me. I was doing this for Mama. She deserved this from me, even if she didn't know about it.
St. Joseph hospital was big and intimidating. It was a labyrinth of sick people and science and I didn't feel like I belonged. I was scheduled for a checkup with the Doctor Kamal that the Owens were using for the surrogacy. He was nice enough but it made me nervous. I'd only ever gone to female gynecologists.
When I finally found his office Mark Owen leaned against the wall. His eyes were closed and he looked tired. Gray had started creeping up his brown sideburns and when he opened his eyes he looked like he'd been far away.
"Sorry," I said, not knowing what I was apologizing for. He shook his head and smiled. It looked like the smile had fought through a lot of unhappiness before it surfaced.
"Don't be. I was just waiting to talk to Doctor Kamal, I don't have an appointment. Are you here for your checkup?"
I nodded. I was aware of what I'd chosen to wear. Cutoff jeans, a shirt that showed my stomach. I would have dressed differently if I'd known he would be here.
"Can I ask you a question?"
When people started their sentence with that I always tried to brace myself. Usually, it meant they were going to get personal. I nodded. I was curious now that he'd posed the question.
"Do you feel forced into this? Because if you do you need only to give the word and you'll be released from the contract. It's early enough. The moment you're pregnant..."
I knew what he was asking me. I had the feeling he wasn't asking me because he thought I felt stuck, though. I had been on board with this from the start. Of course, I had been forced into this situation through my own stupidity but that was beside the point.
"I'm perfectly happy to continue," I said. His eyes searched my face for a moment like he wanted to be sure I wasn't lying, and then he nodded.
"Good. I'm glad." We stood side by side in silence for a while. He looked at me again. "Are you still studying?"
I nodded. "Finance. I just started Third Year. One more year to go."
He nodded. There was silence again. I cleared my throat.
"What do you do?"
"I own a string of investment businesses. It's passive income, really. I worked hard when I was younger but now it's really just about managing it."
I nodded. "That sounds like the way to go." I'd noticed his suit and her clothes at the interview. Her earrings had had gems in them. I'd been sure they were the real deal. She'd had a ring on her finger with a diamond so big I would be nervous to walk around in public with it. I hadn't seen their car but I was sure it was a fancy one. These people had a lot of money. I wondered what it would be like to live a life where money was never an object.
"It's better than having to work my fingers to the bone every day," Mark agreed.
"You and Marina can spend a lot of time together, then."
He sighed. "When the baby arrives I expect she'll be too busy for that."
That didn't sound very cheerful. I carefully pushed forward. I never knew when to stop.
"You'll have time together as new parents, that's always fun."
He looked at me and his eyes were sad even though his face was kind and businesslike. His poker face, I thought.
"She's really the one who
wants the baby. I'm not sure I'm ready to be a father and I'm sure she'll end up hiring a nanny, anyway. I can't imagine she'll give up her precious time to plod around with a child."
That didn't make a lot of sense. "You're not happy about having a baby?"
He shook his head. "It's not that I won't love the child, but I don't know how to adjust our lifestyle and I believe it's wrong to let a stranger raise him or her. Marina loves the idea of being a mother. I'm not sure if the practicality of it will appeal to it. And I don't know if I have what it takes to be a father in the true sense of the word. I know what it's like to have someone around that helped with the reproduction process - as my father did - but I want to be able to be there morally, emotionally."
It was noble. He'd really given this a lot of thought. And he sounded sure he didn't want to take this road.
"Why don't you speak to Marina about it?"
He chuckled without emotion at it and after a while of silence, I realized that was the only answer I was going to get. He glanced at his wristwatch.
"I have to get going," he said. "I'm going to be late for a meeting. I'll have to schedule a meeting with Doctor Kamal. Good luck to you, and I'll see you soon."
"Good afternoon, Mr. Owen."
"Mark, please." He smiled and it looked genuine for the first time. He walked down the corridor. I watched him leave. His square shoulders were stiff and upright. His dark hair brushed his collar. He walked with determination. He was a man that knew what he wanted. I felt sorry for him that he was so sure this was something he didn't want.
I realized how ironic it was that I felt sorry for him. He was established in life, distinguished as a gentleman, obviously, with a hell of a lot of money and a bombshell of a wife on his arm. He didn't look happy. I imagined people had to be happy about having a baby. Of course, there were always some scenarios where having a baby wasn't the highlight of their lives.
Still, this was a choice for both of them. I wondered what she was like when she didn't have her perfect speech on, all her make-up and jewelry, her expensive clothes. Who was Marina, that Mark Owen seemed unhappy about his position in life when he really had everything anyone would ever want?
I closed my eyes and pictured him smiling the way he'd smiled when he said I could call him Mark. That smile had been dazzling. It was a glimpse into who he really once. Once upon I time I imagined him to be very charming, suave, gentile. The kind of man that was attractive to every woman. Not that he wasn't attractive now.
He still had a very striking face, square jaw, nose as straight as an arrow. His hair was luscious and thick - men were always so damn lucky when we needed product for our hair - and it hadn't been slicked back this time like it had been last time.
I wondered what it would feel like if I pushed my hands into it.
I opened my eyes. What the hell was I thinking? He was married. Married and about to be a father. I'd met his wife. And he was like, twice my age. The thought was completely inappropriate. His eyes had slid over my body when I'd arrived but that part had been my fault. I should have dressed differently.
I couldn't think like that about him. He was married, not happily but still, and he was old. He was everything I should never want.
After the pep talk to myself, the stern admonishing, I felt better. It was just a thought, anyway. Nothing more, and only after he'd left. It wasn't like I was perverted. I just knew how to appreciate something good when I saw it. That was it.
Doctor Kamal's door finally opened.
"Camille, I'm so sorry. I had to take care of an emergency. Please, come in.” The thought about Mark slipped away as nerves took its place. I walked into the office and took a deep breath.
I was scared now. This wasn't implantation yet, but it suddenly hit me what I was doing. What would Sharon say? She had her head screwed on right. She would never make the mistakes I made. She would never end up in a situation like this.
The money. I had to keep my mind on the money. There were worse ways to get it. This was all just clinical, an experiment, if you will.
My stomach turned to stone and I struggled to breathe. I was going to panic.
"Just relax," Doctor Kamal said. Easy for him to say. He wasn't on the receiving end. Just relax. Bah.
Nine and a bit months from now it would all be over.
I just had to keep telling myself that.
Mark
I felt like an idiot when I left the hospital. I was Mark Owen, entrepreneur, billionaire, soon-to-be father. I was calm and confident and controlled. This was what people said about me when I turned my back, when my name up in conversation. I was never involved in scandal, I adored my wife, doted on her, I had everything I could have asked for. My life was perfect.
At least, that was what I'd lead everyone to believe. It was easier to put on a smile when someone looked at me than to admit that something was wrong. It was easier, still, than to have to explain that I lived a life I regretted if I thought about it too much, that I may have been hasty saying yes to an ultimatum, that I may have been giving in - or giving up - when I'd agreed to having a child with Marina.
I wasn't ready for any of this. I didn't miss the bachelor life, but I missed a life that belonged to me. I missed being able to be myself and to feel like that was enough. It's a hell of a thing to be missing. It's almost like losing someone you loved and your life is forever empty after that, no matter who else attempts to take their place. The only problem was that the only person I lost was myself and no one was going to comfort me, telling me there was a chance, hope, something that might lead to better days.
When people were around me, when they asked, I smiled and told them I had nothing to complain about.
I hadn't expected Camille to come down to the hospital. Of course, there was no way I would have been able to know if she would or wouldn't come, but I would have been more prepared if I'd thought someone I knew would be walking toward me. I'd been emotional and vulnerable and as a result I'd said things that I didn't usually talk about.
It wasn't all me, though. There was something about her that made it easy to talk to her. She was comfortable to be around. I hadn't felt that around people since... I wasn't sure if I could remember if I'd felt that comfortable with anyone at all. I'd told her all sorts of things that wasn't her business. I should have kept my mouth shut and used my stick on smile.
Had she felt it too, though? Had she felt the connection? She hadn't seemed disappointed in me, like I was someone different than she'd expected me to be. She'd just listened. I wondered if she knew how rare that was. I wondered if anyone had the capacity to listen anymore. The people in my life, in my circles were only interested in talking about themselves. Marina's voice was the loudest in that regard. If they weren't discussing themselves, they were discussing someone else. Gossip or gloating. Those were the topics du jour.
I shook off the thought. I shouldn't be thinking about Camille. Well, thinking about her was the right thing to do - she was going to 'house' our baby for the next nine months - but I had to think about her as someone that needed an allowance to keep the child safe and nothing else.
She was pretty. Her eyes were big and round and caring and thoughtful. Her mouth was quick to smile. Her hair was big and messy and suited her perfectly. Everything about her shouted individuality, freedom, life. Everything that felt absent from my life now that I'd settled down with someone that...
I shook my head, trying to physically remove the thoughts from my mind. Pretty college girls weren't going to be on my mind. I was on the way to fatherhood. Marina was going to be a mother, it was what she always wanted and I'd found a way to give it to her. She was my wife and my sole goal in life was to make sure she was happy. I was going to give her everything she needed because that was what I'd promised to do when I'd married her. For better or worse. Even if it was worse far more often than it was better. Even though sometimes I wasn't sure if I should have meant it, I did at the time.
She deserved m
e to be devoted and loyal and that was what I was going to be.
When I arrived home Marina was on the couch, drinking glass of wine. Now that we weren't trying to have a baby anymore she could drink all she wanted again. Sometimes she had more than I liked but we were both adults. She could make her own choices.
I stooped over to kiss her. She turned her cheek to me. I pretended it didn't sting and sat down next to her.
"How was your day?"
She nodded, not looking at me. "Sonya says Charlene and Mike are getting a divorce. We knew it was coming but now that it's actually happening it seems surreal, doesn't it?"
I nodded. The lifestyle of the rich and famous. Gossip, gossip, gossip.
"Have you heard from Doctor Kamal?"
She nodded and took another sip of her wine.
"Implantation is set for the thirtieth of May. I got off the phone with him just before you arrived."
I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth. The marble tiles underneath my feet were spotless, gleaming. The imperfections, the veins of darker stone that ran through them, was part of their makeup. No matter how often you polished them. That was why marble was so beautiful. I wondered if that counted for me, too.
I'd wanted to talk to the doctor before we set a date. I wanted to ask him if he thought this was a good idea. I'd needed a professional opinion, a voice that wasn't involved. It was too late, now.
"Have you been out today?" I asked. I preferred Marina to go out from time to time just to get out of the house.
She finished the wine in her glass and put it on the coffee table. I frowned and moved it onto a coaster.
"I had coffee with Mavis."
"Who?"
She looked at me like I should have known who that was. "I told you about her, Mark. At least, try to pretend you're interested when I speak."
Mavis, Carla, Sonya, Danielle, the names had started merging into a sea of facts that I struggled to keep up with. I knew their husbands, we worked together or played golf together or saw each other at the gentleman's club, but I didn't care about their lives the way Marina did. I cared about escaping it all. Marina cared about submerging herself deeper and deeper.