“While you were out playing look what I have to deal with. This came in today’s mail.” I handed him the letter, written on heavy cream paper. He was all fingers thanks to the beer he’d been drinking and couldn’t unfold the letter.
“Here,” I said, finally, taking the letter from him and unfolding it. “Listen to this.
Dear Vada Faith,
We would like to point out to you - since you can’t see it for yourself that you are involved in the act of using your body as a baby machine. It is apparent you need guidance in this matter. In our opinion surrogacy is not ethical or moral or legitimate. We feel this way of reproduction can cause long term consequences. It is our fear that your children will endure great pain as the siblings of this lost surrogate child. However, it’s not too late to turn this thing around!
Keep your baby. Please!
Sincerely, your friends who care
P.S. Vada Faith, stop being stupid!
“Is that awful or what?” I folded the letter and noticed again the vaguely familiar heavy cream paper. I was too mad to care. “Some of this stuff was taken straight from a library book. I read it myself. Long term consequences. My foot!”
I looked down at my husband. He was slumped over, sound asleep. I wanted to slap him. Instead, I went upstairs and got a warm blanket to cover him and a pillow for his head.
My life was going down the tubes. Gossip and rumors were tearing my family apart. I had to set people straight, whether it was pleasing to my husband or to anyone else.
Chapter Twenty-three
As television talk show host Maddie Magill walked on stage the audience cheered.
I was already there, seated in one of the red wing back chairs. The audience stood and cheered as Maddie joined me in a matching chair. On the table between us was a pitcher of water and two glasses.
Maddie raised her hand like Oprah and the crowd settled down. She had turned the local talk show into a huge success.
As silence enveloped the room I knew I should have prepared more. I’d been too busy tweezing my eyebrows, spreading on Estee Lauder tanning cream, and pressing my beige linen suit. I did look just about perfect. Every hair on my blonde head was in place. I could say that for sure. I’d been looking in the mirror since 5 a.m.
“Now let’s get started,” Maddie said, smiling. “Please welcome Vada Faith Waddell.” She started clapping and the audience joined her.
I could see I didn’t have a thing on Maddie Magill. Her dark bobbed hair was perfectly molded to her petite head. I knew something about clothes, and the hot pink suit she wore said designer all the way.
“Vada Faith is going to tell us more about her surrogacy!” She shouted over the roar. The audience continued cheering. A blush had spread from my hair roots all the way down to my toes.
“First question,” Maddie said, holding her hand in the air and settling the audience, “why did you choose to be a surrogate? You’re the first local woman to do this, and it’s caused quite a stir.”
“Well,” I said, as a hush came over the audience, “I’m doing it because I have two children of my own. I wanted to help a childless couple complete their family. I wanted them to be able to experience the joy of having children.”
“That’s a thought,” she said. “Isn’t it going to hurt to give away your baby.”
“Oh, it won’t be my baby,” I said, parroting everything I’d read. “It’ll belong to the couple.”
“Is it true, then, that only the father will be genetically linked to this child? Now am I correct?”
“Yes.”
“But you are providing the egg?” Her eyes probed mine. “If that’s true, you will be the genetic mother. Am I right?”
“Yes,” I said, lowering my voice. I hadn’t planned on that fact being announced on television. “I am not the child’s mother. I will only house it, so to speak.”
“Let’s go to the couple now. We have a taped interview with Roy and Dottie Kilgore.”
The couple appeared on the large screen behind me. The talk show host sat across from them in a white wicker chair. They were on their back deck with the mountain range behind them. Roy and Dottie could have been advertising a brand new toothpaste. They wore big toothy smiles and matching navy shorts. The picture of perfectness.
“Yes, we’re the couple in question,” Roy said, his chest puffing out. “We’ve formed a partnership with the little lady there. We hope she will soon carry our baby.” He stood up and gazed out over the tree tops. Dottie chewed on a thumbnail and watched him.
“What more can we say.” He turned, putting his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “Celebrities do this all the time. Why can’t we? My wife and I cannot have children. We want a child. Is that a sin? We found someone who has agreed to help us.”
“Certainly that’s understandable,” the talk show host said, putting her hand out to the white poodle in Dottie’s lap.
“Who’s this?” She asked. The dog eyed her outstretched hand and snuggled deeper into his owner’s lap.
“This is Baby,” Dottie said, her smile growing wider, “and I must admit he is a baby. His brother or sister is coming soon.” She frowned. “I do wish everyone would go away and leave us alone.”
“The question on my mind,” the news woman said, leaning toward Dottie, and ignoring what she’d just said, “doesn’t it bother you to buy a baby?”
“No. We buy bread and milk,” the woman said. “We bought this land.” She waved at the property around her. “Why not buy a baby?”
“That’s not quite the same thing now, Sugar,” Roy Kilgore said, moving his chair closer to his wife. He leaned over and put his hand over hers. “We simply do not think of it as buying a baby,” he said, patting her arm. “We think of it as paying the medical costs for all the procedures. The tests. Paying for the care and safety of the birth mother. For the safe delivery of our child. That is how we look at it. Really, that’s all we have to say. Come here Baby.”
He took the dog from his wife’s lap. The poodle growled and leaped back into her arms.
“One more question,” Maddie said, raising her voice to drown out the barking dog, “on the allegations surfacing regarding your home improvement business. Can you add anything that might clear this up?”
“Allegations. Nothing more.” He raised his voice. “There is no truth to any of it. That’s all we have to say.” The couple with the perfect tans faded from the screen.
“Well, folks,” she turned back to the audience, “you can make up your own minds about all this.” She got up and walked down into the audience. “We’ll take a few questions. Anyone have a question for our guest?”
“How could you give your baby away?” The person who stood at the mike in the baggy old lady dress was my sister. The red wig and sun glasses couldn’t hide her squeaky little voice. Who had she left in charge of the shop? That was my question. At times she was more impulsive than me.
“I am doing this,” I snapped, “to help these people. That poor childless couple you just saw.” I couldn’t believe my eyes as I leaned forward. There was my husband seated beside Joy Ruth with mama wedged into the seat beside him. You couldn’t keep anything quiet in this town. Not for one second. It was bad enough that someone thought I was selling a baby. Now my own family had to be here to witness it.
“It appears that the couple might need more than a baby to help them,” my sister said, into the mike. “What if this baby looks just like one of your own children, Vada Faith? Will you give it away then?”
The nerve of that girl. I would wring her skinny neck when we got back to the shop.
“Let’s move on,” the talk show host said, walking down another aisle. “Does anyone here want to be a surrogate mother or do you have any questions?”
Several hands went up.
“Yes.” She pointed to a short brunette with glasses. “What would you like to ask?”
“How much are you getting paid to give them your baby?”
“It’s not my baby and I can’t discuss money. I can tell you money isn’t the issue.”
“Would I get more than I get at my secretarial job?”
“I wouldn’t know but,” I caught my breath, “this is something you can’t take lightly.”
“I just want to say,” a young woman said, hopping up, “that I was given away at birth. Until I found my sister here,” she nodded at the girl sitting beside her, “it was like a piece of me was missing. Now I’m complete. For the first time in my life. We are so alike. Not just in looks.” She smiled at her sister. “Everything about us. And,” she said solemnly, “as a child who was given away, I would never advise giving away a baby. Not for any reason.”
I stared hard at the girl. She reminded me of someone. I couldn’t figure out who.
“Hey, what are your feelings for that man?” A guy had grabbed the mike and pointed up to the screen where Roy had been. “Does he turn you on?”
“Vada Faith,” John Wasper called, “you do not have to answer any more questions.”
“Well,” the talk show host said, taking the mike back and heading over to John Wasper. “You must be Vada Faith’s husband.”
“Yes.” He stood, his face redder than I’d ever seen it. “I’m her husband.”
“How do you feel about all this?”
“Whew,” he said, “I don’t feel so good about it. It’s hard.” He put his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I wish she still sold Mary Kay. She never got a pink car,” he shrugged, “but she was happy and it took up her time. Maybe that’s what she needs. She has too much free time. She could go back to Avon. She never won a cruise but she always smelled good.”
“Are you happy with the surrogacy agreement your wife has made. Her giving away her baby and all.”
“I wouldn’t keep a baby that belonged to that man. Even if it was part hers.” My husband looked at me with hurt and anger in his eyes. He hadn’t known about my own egg being used and I could see he was shocked.
I felt nauseous and thought I might throw up. I gripped the arms of the chair and prayed that the show would soon end.
“A baby she has with someone else,” he swallowed hard as though the words were stuck in his throat, “would never be her baby. I wouldn’t want it.” He said, defiantly, looking straight at me again, “If my wife is set on having a baby and giving it to those people, well, she can do just that. She’s a big girl. But, I don’t want the baby.”
“You’re very broad-minded. More than most men. We appreciate hearing your views,” she said. “Thank you.” She looked up at me. “Thank you, dear. Please come back and update us on this very interesting topic.” She turned to the audience. “It’s time to go to commercial. Stay tuned,” she smiled into the camera, “next a girl with a two headed kitten and a fitness guru from New York City who is going to help us all get healthy. So don’t go away.”
After the show, there was no sign of my family and I was relieved. My husband seemed supportive enough but I knew he was plenty angry and I had to figure out how to smooth things over with him.
As I pushed open the station door, I saw a group of women marching back and forth on the sidewalk. They carried signs and chanted, “Unite! Unite! Unite!”
“Vada Faith!” My old friend Midgy threw down her sign and hugged me. Her frizzy red hair bounced around her shoulders. “We’re so proud of you, honey, and what you’re doing.”
“Why, thank you.” I recognized some of our other customers among the women. Here they were marching on my behalf, when my own family had gone underground.
“We are behind you 100%,” she said. She turned to the group and shouted, “We must unite. Girls! Who do our bodies belong to?”
“To us!” they cried.
“If we wish to house babies for other women?”
“We will house babies for other women!”
“Unite!” They chanted as my old friend picked up her sign and joined them.
I hoped, as I drove away, she hadn’t let her cemetery project slide to take up my cause. However, it felt good to have someone behind me. I had my own voice. Those people out at the cemetery didn’t.
Besides, I wanted someone I loved to believe in what I was doing, not just friends. Secretly, though, I was having some doubts myself. I was furious at my news reporter friend, Barry. He’d made this whole interview sound appealing. He could find a new hairdresser. I was finished with him and his bald spot.
Chapter Twenty-four
When I drove up in front of the shop, I noticed a group of men standing around. Thank goodness they weren’t chanting or carrying signs. I parked the car and walked toward them curious to see what they were doing. Suddenly the men burst into song. “Oh-when-the-Saints-go-marching-in! Oh-when-the-Saints-go-marching-in! Oh-Lord-I-want-to-be-in-that-number-when-the-Saints-go-marching-in!”
“Who,” a male voice rang out above the singing voices, “will be in that number? Who will be leading the Saints?”
“John Wasper!” The men cheered.
“Who will NOT be in that number?”
“Vada Faith!”
They cheered and clapped. Someone whistled.
I ignored them and slipped into the shop. I was finding that the more stuff I was able to ignore, the more room I had for the stuff that had to be dealt with.
My dear sweet mouthy sister was just putting an unhappy Alberta under the dryer as the temp she’d hired picked up her things and left. Alberta muttered to me, “That new girl had earrings in her eyebrows, dear.”
She cupped her mouth toward me. “Her tongue. Did you see that?”
“I saw that. I did indeed.” I frowned for her benefit. I didn’t care who pierced what as long as it wasn’t my body parts being pierced. Our business was going to hell in a hand basket. It was a good thing we were the only hairdressers in town.
“I can’t believe you brought mama and John Wasper to the television station,” I hissed at my sister on my way past her. “Now I have to work things out with him again. I shouldn’t even speak to you.” I sighed. I went into the lounge and put away the package I’d bought at the drugstore.
“I suppose I’ll have to talk to you though,” I said, leaning over to whisper in her ear as I went to my station.
“Don’t I feel privileged, Miss Television Star.” She was posting a paper on the bulletin board listing our monthly specials. I noticed as she tacked the paper up it was a cream color and very familiar.
“I didn’t bring them. They don’t need me to bring them anywhere. They know what’s going on. So,” she said, raising her eyebrows, “what has caused all this goodwill toward me?”
“Nothing you’ve done. You made a fool out of yourself in that red wig and that old lady dress. You had no business saying all that stuff.”
“I thought the red wig was clever. I’m taking up acting, like you, sister dear. It’s a free country. I’ll say what I want.”
“I’m ignoring that,” I snapped, but I was too nervous and needed her support too much to be mad at her for long. “Look,” I said, “Here’s the deal.” My stomach was doing flip flops. “I forgive you. Because number one, we both know you’re stupid, and can’t help yourself. Second, you will want to be in on what I am about to do. You know you always want in on my stuff.”
“I am not stupid. Speak for yourself.” She put her hands on her hips which meant I was pushing her a little too far. “I don’t want to be in on your stuff. I have my own stuff, thank you.” She dabbed at her face with a tissue. “It’s too hot in this shop to even think today. The repair man should have been here by now to work on the air conditioner.” She pushed her hair off her shoulders. “Besides what’s so great I’ll want to be in on it?”
“I’m not saying yet. I want the tension to build.” I went back and put a cape around Sally Hensen’s neck and started cutting her hair. I was trying to act glib. I was so shaky I could barely concentrate. Thankfully Sally wasn’t a talker and hair cutting came as natural to me as breat
hing. It took only a few minutes and she was gone.
There was only one customer left under the dryer when I went into the lounge and got the pregnancy kit. I took it into the bathroom. I wouldn’t call my sister in until the last minute. Until I knew for sure one way or the other. One part of me was saying, “Hurrah! I hope you’re pregnant. Here we come, house in Crystal Springs.”
The other part of me was saying, “You better pray hard girl you’re not pregnant. You don’t know what you’re getting into. Back up the truck. Hell-o. You don’t need a house out in Crystal Springs. You better hope this test is negative. If it is, honey, you’d better forget this whole mess. Forget you ever met those people. Listen to your husband for once in your life.”
As I sat in the bathroom awaiting my fate, it hit me like a ton of bricks. The girl in the audience reminded me of myself. She’d experienced the same feelings of abandonment I had as a kid. Would I be abandoning a child if I had it and gave it away?
“Your situation is way different,” the voice in my head reasoned, when tears formed in my eyes. “You are not giving up a child, honey. You are giving a child life. You are giving a couple a baby. That is not giving up your own child.”
I had to keep repeating that line to myself. “You are not giving away your own child. You would never do that. Just because your mother left you and you felt abandoned, it doesn’t mean this is what you are doing. You’d never hurt a child the way you were hurt. No, this is way different.”
I wasn’t convinced.
I had to pee again and raised the toilet seat. “Yes, this is way different,” I whispered to the pink flowered walls of the bathroom, trying to convince myself. “Way different.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Proof of my pregnancy stared up at me in blue. Sky blue. One of my favorite colors. This was no coincidence. I was destined to have a child for this couple.
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