Sister Surrogate

by LaChelle Weaver

She could only have one person with her while she was getting her infusion and that first day, they’d got into a spat about which one of them it would be. Savannah was embarrassed at how they’d behaved, and even more so when Ivy had stormed out of the medical facility and called Bridgette out of her name, which thankfully she didn’t hear. Savannah had to have them alternate days to cut back on all of the drama. Radiation was a little less stressful because even though they’d been told that Bridgette wouldn’t be at any risk by being pregnant having contact with her, they’d both decided not to take any chances, so that just left Ivy.

  Julius had attended most of the appointments as well, but the last few weeks, he’d been busy with another high profile case that kept him tied up in court most mornings when her appointments were scheduled, but he always called to check in on her when he could.

  “Don’t get upset. It’s not that serious,” said Ivy.

  “But, it is, Ivy. We’re all we have and if something happens to one of us, the other two would have to be there for the other,” said Savannah with sadness. She felt her tears coming, but fought to hold them back. Her sisters’ behavior was frustrating, and in her opinion, they were both acting like kids.

  “Don’t talk like that, Savannah. Nothing’s going to happen to anybody. We’re all going to be around for a long time getting on each other’s nerves even as old ladies like The Golden Girls. And I’m going to get a kick out of seeing Bridgette get there first since she’s so much older,” said Ivy and that made Savannah chuckle. The Golden Girls was one of their favorite TV shows.

  “You’re so wrong for that. But, seriously, this battle I’ve had with cancer has really made me appreciate everything about my life. It’s nothing I would’ve imagined I’d be going through, and it made me realize just how short life is and all of the things we take for granted. We never think about those things until we’re at risk of losing them. We have to do better, Ivy. As a family and as a sisterhood.”

  Ivy reached over and clasped her hand over Savannah’s to comfort her.

  “I agree. And even though I don’t think I’ve done anything to warrant Bridgette’s ornery attitude toward me, I’ll be the bigger person and extend the olive branch. So, are you happy now, spoiled behind?” Ivy joked and a smile spread across Savannah’s face.

  “I love you, Bubbling-Brown-Su-gah,” she sang, making Savannah laugh.

  “You’re a mess, but I love you just the same,” said Savannah, adjusting the silk scarf tied around her head that she’d been wearing since her hair began to fall out, shortly after starting chemo. She hadn’t become completely bald, but it had come out in patches and she didn’t want to wear a wig, so Ivy had brought her back a bunch of designer scarves she’d gotten specially made for Savannah by some famous, fashion designer she used to work for in New York. Ivy would wear them too in support of her like she was now.

  “We have to take a selfie so I can post it on Instagram,” Ivy said, when they got to Carolinas Medical Center where Savannah received her radiation. They posed cheek-to-cheek pursing their lips into those ridiculous duck lips when Ivy snapped the photo. She had over a million followers on Instagram, and they’d become invested in Savannah’s recovery, posting words of encouragement and support. It was touching, and it was one more thing that gave Savannah comfort. Now, if only her sisters would show that same kind of love to one another. She would keep her fingers crossed that Ivy kept her word and made things right within their sisterhood.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  L

  ater in the week, Bridgette walked in her house and heard a voice coming from the kitchen and frowned. I know good and doggone well…she thought as she approached closer with her twin boys in tow after picking them up from school. Dylan, the oldest by two minutes raced toward the source of the familiar voice, humming what sounded like an old Shirley Caesar song, the same as her mother used to.

  “Grandma,” he shouted, running over to the gray-haired, sixty-something-year old woman, sitting at the kitchen island with one hand wrapped around a Heineken beer bottle and the other gripping a pen with a crossword puzzle book in front of her.

  “There go my little boogers. Come give granny a big ole hug,” said Bridgette’s mother-in-law, Cassietta, rising from the bar stool she was sitting on and wrapping her arms around both boys. She eyed Bridgette with a disapproving look. “Bridgette,” she said in a flat attempt at a greeting.

  “Cassietta, what are you doing here?” Bridgette matched her tone. She had no desire to deal with her mother-in-law today, especially with the way she was feeling. Being pregnant at forty was definitely different than when she was in her thirties. She’d planned to get dinner started and then get the boys started on their homework while she finished, but from the savory smell of tomato sauce wafting throughout the kitchen and the two large pots on the stove, it was obvious Cassietta had that taken care of.

  “Do I need permission to come and check on my family?” Cassietta queried, a hand on her hip, but Bridgette didn’t reply. She knew Cassietta was there to insinuate herself into her and Nick’s business. She was the quintessential, meddling mother-in-law.

  “Grandma, did you make spaghetti and meatballs?” Ryan, the youngest twin asked with excitement.

  “I sure did. You know I have to make my babies their favorite foods while I’m here. I’ve got a batch of my chocolate fudge brownies baking in the oven right now for dessert,” said Cassietta with a big grin on her face.

  “Yaayyyy!!! Brownies,” both boys yelped in anticipation as if their mother didn’t bring them enough baked goods from her bakery.

  Cassietta’s hearty laughter rang throughout the large space of the kitchen. “I love it,” she said with just as much excitement.

  “Boys, go ahead upstairs and get started on your homework. I’ll be up in a minute,” Bridgette instructed.

  The boys gave their grandmother one last hug before grabbing their book bags they’d tossed by the entrance and raced upstairs one behind the other. Bridgette sat her purse on the island, surveying the kitchen before addressing her mother-in-law who’d taken her place back at the island grabbing her beer and taking a swig.

  “How long have you been here?” Bridgette asked.

  “Well, long enough to start up a few loads of that laundry you’ve got backed up from here to yonder and cook dinner,” Cassietta remarked and Bridgette didn’t like the implication she heard, but decided to ignore it. She didn’t have the energy to go back and forth with her.

  “I appreciate it, but I wish you would’ve let me know that you were coming,” said Bridgette, walking over to the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of water and twisting the cap off.

  “My son knew I was coming. Why didn’t you?” she asked. Now, sitting with her arms folded and staring at her.

  Bridgette sighed and took a drink of water. She knew Cassietta was aware of their marital problems, so why she was trying to be facetious Bridgette didn’t know, but she wasn’t in the mood for it, especially since she was part of the problem.

  “Well, your son doesn’t have a lot to say to me these days, so how would I know,” Bridgette retorted, making her way back to the island and sitting down at the other end, away from her mother-in-law. “But, of course you know that already,” she added.

  “Despite what you think, Bridgette, he hasn’t told me much of anything because I suspect that he doesn’t want me to insert my two cents about this whole situation you’ve created.”

  Bridgette shook her head. “Oh, you don’t have to because you’ve already done that. Let you tell it, I’m trying to play God,” Bridgette retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm and shaking her head because she was still in disbelief at some of the things Cassietta had said to her when she learned what Bridgette was planning to do for her sister. She took another sip of her water, ignoring her mother-in-law’s glare.

  “And I’ll say it again. It’s just plain, ole wrong to insert yourself into God’s will. And, not only that, but how do you
expect a man to feel watching his wife walk around with another man’s baby growing in her stomach? I don’t care if your sister’s DNA is part of it. That makes it even more sickening, if you ask me,” she said, her voice filled with disgust and going up an octave.

  It was Bridgette’s turn to glare at her mother-in-law.

  “Will you keep your voice down, Cassietta? I don’t want the boys to hear you,” Bridgette hissed.

  Cassietta sat back in her seat and shook her head. “Ummph…ummph…ummph. These are truly some praying times. You haven’t even clued them in on this foolishness yet? And that’s another reason why it’s a bad idea. Have you even thought about how those babies are going to feel about this? What happens when you come home from the hospital without a baby that they’ll obviously see you carrying here soon? No matter how you try and explain it, it’ll still be hard for them to understand.”

  “Why don’t you let me worry about that, Cassietta,” Bridgette huffed.

  Cassietta threw her hands up. “Fine. I’ve said my peace about it—,” Cassietta remarked before Bridgette cut her off from finishing her statement.

  “I certainly hope for the last time. I’m clear on how you feel about it along with your son,” Bridgette said. “Now, how long are you planning on being here?”

  “Probably for a few days, but it may be longer. I haven’t decided yet. It’s obvious you need some help around here with yet another thing you’ve added on,” Cassietta said, her eyes resting temporarily on Bridgette’s belly, a small mound beginning to form there. Bridgette sighed and prayed silently for the strength to deal with her mother-in-law and her husband who now had a live-in ally for the next few days or however long she decided to be there. Bridgette hoped she would leave sooner rather than later for all of their sakes.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  B

  ridgette had just left her boys’ bedroom, checking to see if they were actually in their beds and not on their iPads as they sometimes were, but they were sound asleep. She’d kissed them and tucked them under the covers extra tight, even though she knew that by morning both sets of bedding would be on the floor. Now, she was in her pajamas and sipping chamomile tea while reading Jezebel’s Daughter, the latest novel by one of her favorite authors, Jacquelin Thomas. It was a welcomed reprieve from her mother-in-law and husband, especially after the evening she’d had with them.

  She’d felt like an outsider in her own home and it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. They’d basically ignored her at dinner, talking and laughing with one another along with the boys as if she wasn’t sitting at the table. It was hard for Bridgette to refrain from rolling her eyes the entire time or even dismissing herself altogether, but she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. However, it was time for her to talk with Nick about his behavior, and she didn’t care if he wanted to or not. He wasn’t going to keep telling her that he didn’t feel like talking about it. Things had to change between them because she wouldn’t tolerate it any longer. Either he acted like he wanted to be her husband or he could make other living arrangements.

  Bridgette hated the thought of a separation, but the tension between them was causing her an added amount of stress that she didn’t need to deal with. It was as if they were roommates instead of the married couple that they were, and if they were going to make it another ten years, there needed to be some serious attitude adjustments. Well, at least on Nick’s part anyway. She still tried to be the loving wife she’d always been, but his ego was getting in the way of that and creating distance between them.

  After reading a few chapters of her book, Bridgette removed her red-framed eyeglasses and placed them on the nightstand. She’d been anticipating Nick coming to bed so she could talk to him, but it was apparent that he was still sitting up with his mother in an attempt to avoid her. She also knew that she was probably the topic of their conversation. She’d left them downstairs a few hours ago after putting away the leftovers from dinner and cleaning up the kitchen, which neither of them offered to help, but instead they’d gone out on the deck with Heinekens and Bridgette guessed they were still out there. She had a mind to march down there and demand he come to bed, but she didn’t want to appear desperate for his attention.

  Bridgette grabbed the remote lying next to her on the bed and flipped to the Food Network, hoping he’d be up soon. After about twenty minutes into the TV show she was watching, Nick came strolling in the bedroom and Bridgette didn’t waste any time. She’d been waiting long enough and now she was sitting with her arms folded across her chest, glaring at him.

  “Nick, we need to talk,” she announced and she saw the deep rise and fall of his chest from sighing followed by a shake of his head.

  “I’m tired, Bridgette and I just want to hop in the shower and then get to sleep,” he replied, sitting on the edge of his side of the bed with his back to her and removing his shoes.

  “Well, this won’t take long. I don’t appreciate how you’ve been treating me lately and I certainly don’t appreciate you not giving me the consideration of letting me know that your mother was coming for a visit.”

  “It slipped my mind.” He stood to remove his jeans.

  “Nicholas Harper, I won’t play these games with you. You need to stop acting like a child and act like the forty-year-old man that you are. I’m tired of it. I’m already raising two children and you’re acting like a third,” Bridgette said.

  “Well, the difference between me and them is that you can’t control how I act. I’m a grown man, Bridgette.”

  “Well, then act like it,” Bridgette yelled, not meaning to, but she didn’t care because she’d had enough of his attitude. “What kind of a man walks around the house giving his wife the silent treatment?” she added.

  Nick inhaled deeply and then exhaled like he was trying to keep his composure. “You need to calm down and watch how you speak to me. Who’s acting like a child now throwing a temper tantrum because things aren’t going how you want them to? Did you really expect me not to feel some type of way about this whole situation? You didn’t care about my feelings then, so why should I care now about yours?” Nick said, matter-of-factly, removing his Hampton t-shirt, the school he’d attended for his Master’s degree.

  “I did care about your feelings, Nick, and I do now. We’ve talked about this. And if I remember correctly, you said that you understood. You went through the screening and signed the surrogacy agreement, now, you’ve done a complete one-eighty and I don’t understand it. Well, I have an idea and she’s a floor below us,” said Bridgette, referring to her mother-in-law.

  Nick guffawed like he’d done when she first told him she wanted to be her sister’s surrogate, and it annoyed her then like it did now. She hated it because it sounded as if he was making fun of her like what she was saying was so ridiculous.

  “Leave my mother out of this. She has nothing to do with it,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Why have you been giving me the cold shoulder then? You’re really making this whole thing difficult and it doesn’t have to be. It’s only temporary.”

  “You say that like I’m supposed to just deal with it and that should be the end of it. You can always do what you want because I’ll always go with the flow, but I’m tired of you trying to play me, Bridgette. I’m nobody’s fool,” he said, glaring at her. “So, if you’re expecting any more support than I’ve already given. Don’t. Because I’m done with it all,” he said with finality as he walked to the master bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

  Bridgette burst into tears, overwhelmed with frustration.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  T

  he next morning, after her argument with Nick and once again, not getting much sleep and waking up with a gnawing headache, Bridgette got up to make breakfast, but found Cassietta in the kitchen already cooking, and her presence angered Bridgette.

  “You don’t have to cook every meal in this house, Cassietta,” Bridgette snapped at her mother-in-law, reaching ar
ound her and snatching the teakettle off the stove to fill it with water for tea. She was feeling more nauseous than normal.

  “Hmmph, I guess the symptoms of pregnancy are in full effect this morning with your crankiness, but they’re directed at the wrong person. I certainly didn’t get you pregnant, but neither did my son,” Cassietta said and Bridgette wanted to smack that annoying smirk off of her face.

  “You know what, Cassietta? I’ve had just about enough of your snide and rude comments. You don’t get to disrespect me in my own house, especially since I pay the mortgage,” Bridgette said, filling the teakettle with water. She didn’t want to have to go there, but she was tired of both her mother-in-law and her husband’s disrespectful behavior toward her.

  “And you mention that to prove what, Bridgette? That you’re in control? That might work with my son, but I couldn’t care less about it. So what you bought this big ole house just to prove that you could. You’ve spent your entire marriage doing that and I don’t know how much longer you think Nicholas is going to allow you to keep it up. My guess is not too much longer, considering this last foolish act you’ve done,” Cassietta remarked, flipping French toast on a griddle.

  “Oh, you’d just love that wouldn’t you?” Bridgette slammed the teakettle back onto the stove before turning on the burner. “I’m too much of a woman for your liking. I’m not like your other daughter-in-law. I’m not Suzy Homemaker. I actually have a brain and goals and a life of my own.”

  She liked her sister-in-law, Yvette and she wasn’t trying to degrade her in any way, but they were two different women, especially with how they approached their marriages. Yvette was a stay-at-home mother to three young daughters that she’d had late in life because Nick’s older brother, Vincent had wanted to wait—for whatever reason he’d given her. Bridgette had never bothered to ask her, but she suspected it was because he was trying to keep up with all of those women he slept around on her with, but Bridgette would never tell her that. And now, in her late-forties, her daily life consisted of changing diapers, making bottles, cooking three meals a day and opening her legs wide anytime her husband wanted her to.