by Rye Hart
Raya rolled her eyes. “Seriously, tell me about it,” she said. “Not that I have to deal with that anymore.”
“Lucky you,” I mumbled.
I hated being jealous of people. It served no purpose at all. Still, seeing Raya be able to just up and quit on a whim like that was enviable. I couldn't imagine leaving a well-paying job without having an even better one lined up, no matter the circumstances. I just wasn't wired that way. Of course, not having anybody to rely on but myself – and having others relying on me – helped keep my head in the game, right where it needed to be.
Not that it didn't get old sometimes. It really did.
Raya checked the time on her iPhone, and her eyes grew wide. “Shit. I have to go. I'm so sorry for cutting out on you like this,” she said. “My grandparents are coming down from Seattle, and they'll be here in a couple hours.”
“Yikes. Have fun,” I said.
She hugged me and said, “We'll have to keep in touch,” she said. “Go out now and then, you know? Go and bang the senses out of Mr. Handsome while you're at it.”
“Of course,” I said, laughing and rolling my eyes.
When I'd find the time to go out or bang anybody, let alone Mr. Handsome, I wasn't sure. But, it was nice to have a friend. Even one that was a little flakey like Raya. That's all part of what made her unique and gave her a special kind of charm though, to be honest. She was just such a free spirit and I envied that.
“You don't sound so eager to go home, Casey,” she said, pausing in front of me. “Everything okay?”
“Am I ever eager to go home?” I snorted.
I swirled the coffee around in my cup as Raya stared down at me. I could see the concern for me in her eyes and I really didn’t want to make her worry about me. Pity was the last thing I wanted.
“It's fine,” I said. “Dad just got his social security check, which means that I'm sure he'll be wasted already.”
“This early in the morning?” Raya asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Yeah, it's right about time for his monthly bender.”
“I'm sorry, chica,” she said. “I'd offer to let you to come over to my place, but – ”
“Grandparents. I know,” I said. “Besides, I have to get Sierra and Nick out the door for school. God knows he won't do it and mom's already left for work – so that leaves me.”
Raya's eyes softened a bit, and she looked at me as if, for the first time, she understood what I was dealing with at home. It was fleeting, though, as she checked her phone again.
“They're early! Eek!,” she said. “They'll be here in an hour, I gotta run. But, just so you know, I'm always here to talk, chica. Always.”
“Thanks, Raya,” I say, blowing her a kiss. “See you soon.”
After blowing me a quick kiss in return, my friend turned and rushed out the door, leaving me alone at the restaurant. She'd left a few pieces of honeydew on her plate, so I took a few bites of that, trying to fill my otherwise empty belly. The waitress comes over and checked on me.
“More coffee, hon?”
“No, thanks,” I said, pulling out the wad of cash from last night. “I'm ready to pay.”
Time to go home. Sierra and Nick needed me. They might be teenagers, but if anything, that made it harder to get their asses to school on time. Neither one of them were morning people. Like me.
I hoped that once I got them out the door, I might get at least, a few hours’ sleep before heading back into the club. It was Sunday, which was normally my one day off, but there was a special event booked for the night, and I'd volunteered to work. I really didn't want to, but I needed the overtime and all the tips I could get.
I slipped from the booth and walked toward the Blue Line train. The sun was just starting to make an appearance on the horizon, which made me feel better about riding the train. Some nights, it was pretty sketchy. Especially dressed in my waitressing outfit. Some of the creeps on the train were skeevier than the pigs in the club I had to deal with.
Usually, if I remembered, I changed before hopping on the train. Not that it made much difference, people still assumed I was a hooker, or at least hoped that I might fuck them for the right price.
Morning was different. Commuters crowded the train, making it standing room only, but at least there was less chance of getting attacked or raped because there were too many witnesses.
God, what I wouldn't give to have my own car, I thought to myself. Maybe someday. For now, mom needed it more than me. So, as with everything else, I'd make due and put my own needs to the side. My needs didn't matter. The needs of my family did.
CHAPTER FIVE
MALCOLM
I really wasn't sure what I was thinking. I must have been gripped by some really potent alcohol or a quick bout of dementia myself. I had to have been to even consider asking a cocktail waitress to be the mother of my children. Not that she would have agreed, but the fact that I even considered it – even if only for the briefest of moments – told me just how crazed this whole thing was making me.
Honestly though, it just seemed like she needed a way out of that shitty job, and for a brief minute, I thought I could be a hero. Thought that maybe, I could swoop in with this amazing offer to pay her a large sum of money for her to be a surrogate for me, and both of our problems would be solved.
Not my brightest moment, that was for sure.
It was Monday morning, and I'd made a promise to my mom to meet with the people at Surrogates R Us – okay, not really what they were called, but that's what I called them. It seemed far more preferable to make light of them and what they did than admit that I was taking them, and this whole process, seriously.
The entire thing just felt weird to me. This was not how I pictured myself making babies. Not at all. But, it seemed like the only option I currently had. With time running short to meet my father's demands – and beat Adam to the punch – I really needed to explore the options I did, in fact, have.
The waiting room was filled with people – couples, mostly. A lesbian couple, an older, wealthier looking couple, and a younger couple. I was the only single person there, and I felt incredibly out of place as I flipped through a Parent's magazine, which had photos of happy families with bright eyes and wide smiles.
Yes, in the modern day, a family doesn't have to be a mom and a dad. Two dads, two moms, hell, even one dad and two moms if you were into that sort of lifestyle. Single parents were common enough too. Men and women these days, could raise children alone, sure, but making a child without a partner was not what I had in mind.
For about the millionth time, I had to ask myself – what was my dad thinking to attach this kind of a demand to his will?
“Malcolm, we're ready to see you now,” a forty-something year old woman with a soft voice said. She reminded me of my mother, in a way, except that she had brown hair that was pulled back into a loose bun atop her head. She also had deep smile lines etched into her skin that showed off a happy, motherly face.
I followed the woman back into a private office, and she introduced herself as Lisa. Just Lisa. No last name, we're all family here, she said. Her office was painted a light, soothing shade of blue. There was a small water feature on the cabinet behind her, the babbling of the water over the small stones helping fill the office with gentle, running water sounds so the silences would be less awkward.
On her desk were photos of her own family – a smiling father with two little boys that looked just like her stared back at us.
“Are those your kids?” Obvious question, but it felt like the nice thing to say.
“Yes,” she said, glancing down at the photo. “My husband Chuck, and my two boys Jeremy and Jacob.”
“A good-looking family you have there,” I said.
A good, wholesome, All-American family. Chuck and Lisa, Jeremy and Jacob. Almost sounded too good to be true. Like something out of a family sit-com from the 1960's or something. But there was photographic evidence of the happy family staring me
right in the face.
“Thank you, Malcolm,” she said, her smile widening. “So, you're thinking of starting a family of your own?”
“I am.”
“Straight and to the point, I like it. Which is why I'm going to get straight to the point as well, so please excuse my bluntness.” she said. She crossed her hands and placed them in her lap, leaning back into her chair. “Have you thought long and hard about this decision? It says in your paperwork that you don't have a partner, you're still young – what makes you interested in having a surrogate right now, when you still have plenty of time to have children of your own?”
“My father has a brain tumor.”
“I'm sorry to hear that,” she said.
The way her face softened, I believed she meant it too. She seemed kind and compassionate.
“Yes, it's been hard for my family. It's benign, and doctors anticipate her has about two years to live. About a year before he loses some of his – ” I choked on the next words that came from my mouth, “mental awareness.”
Her smile faltered, and her eyes looked sad. “That must be really tough on you and your family, Malcolm,” she said. “Are you sure that a baby, right now, is a good idea? With all that stress and uncertainty in your life?”
“My father's last wish was to see his grandchildren before he passes away,” I said.
I left out the part about the inheritance being tied to having a baby of my own since I doubt that would help my case. I needed to convince her that this was my idea, and something I wanted to do.
“I want to give him that,” I said. “I want to give him grandkids to for him to spoil and enjoy while he still has time.”
“I see,” Lisa murmured. “But tell me, Malcolm, is this what you want?”
I thought on her words for a moment. Yes, I would have loved to have a child, but not like this. I wanted a family of my own and had no real desire to be a single father. The doubts rose in my mind like a thick fog. But I couldn’t let my face show it. I needed to do this. Ready or not, I needed to do this. For my mother. My father. For my company's future, and for myself.
“Yes,” I said. “I've always wanted to be a father myself.”
That wasn't a lie. It just wasn't total honesty, either. “As long as you're sure, I can't turn you away,” she said. “I just want to make sure that this is the best thing for you and your family. I hope you understand.”
“I do,” I said and gave her a smile I hoped looked reassuring. “And, I appreciate that.”
Lisa pulled a folder out from one of her desk drawers and slipped it over to me. I picked it up and looked at it as she began to speak.
“This explains the process,” he said. “Once you've decided to go forward with this, we will begin the search for the right surrogate for you. You'll have the option of choosing your surrogate, and you'll meet with them, to make sure everything goes smoothly.”
“How long do you expect that to take?”
“It usually takes a few months to find the perfect fit.”
“A few months? I don't have a few months,” I said. “My dad – well – he has about nine months to a year before he starts declining in health. And, I need to have a child as soon as possible. I want him to be able to see his grandchildren before – well – you know.”
Her eyes narrowed a bit as she studied my face. “Malcolm, we can do our very best to hurry the process along, but I make no guarantees,” she said. “We have to find a surrogate that fits both of our needs – ours and yours. There's usually a waiting list.”
“What if I brought in my own?” I asked. “Somebody who'd volunteered to be a surrogate.”
Lisa pondered the question, then answered, “Yes, that's an option. You may bring in your own surrogate, if you know someone who's willing and able,” she said. “There's a list of requirements for potential surrogates in your folder. However, when we work with new women, we have to run a few tests first, just to make sure everything is on the up and up. There's also a six-week period where we freeze your sperm before implantation to test both you and her for HIV and other diseases.”
My heart dropped into my gut. First, I'd have to find someone willing, and once I had that, then, I had the tests. Six weeks was a long time to wait, I thought. I licked my lips and stared down at my hands, opening the folder to the page outlining the requirements.
Must have had a successful pregnancy already.
Must be under the age of 35, ideally under the age of 30.
No medical issues from a long list of common ailments.
I sighed and stopped reading.
“Malcolm, is everything okay?”
I shook my head. “I don't think this is going to work,” I said. “Is there any way – any way at all – to rush the process along? I have money and I’m willing to pay.”
“Malcolm,” her voice sounded stern, “everyone who walks into my office has money. You're not the first millionaire to set foot in here, nor will you be the last. Unfortunately, the process is the same for everyone. It is designed to keep everyone safe – baby and mother. We wouldn't be able to continue operating if we cut corners. Surely, we'd get sued.”
I understood. It wasn't like anything she'd said was out-of-line. We were talking about creating life here, and I couldn't blame them for having these restrictions and procedures, it just wasn't going to work for me.
I closed the folder and decided to hold onto it to show my mother. Maybe if she knew this wasn't going to work out, she'd talk some sense into my father. It was all I could do, honestly.
“Thank you for your time,” I said, standing up.
Lisa stood up in front of me, reaching out her hand. “My card is included in the paperwork,” she said. “Don't hesitate to call me if you have any questions, Malcolm. I'd be happy to help you, if only there was a way I could.”
“I understand.”
I left Lisa's office as another woman was bringing the younger couple to the back. There was so much hope in their eyes, and they held each other's hands tightly as the three of them walked by me in the hall.
If only my eyes held the same amount of hope.
~ooo000ooo~
“It's impossible,” I sighed, running a hand through my hair. I looked down at the dining room table, feeling utterly hopeless.
Mom was looking through the folder, reading everything she could. She was looking for any loophole or fine print that might help us find a way around our predicament. So far though, even my incredibly detail-oriented mother couldn't find anything that would help us. At least not with the surrogates. I could see the resignation and frustration in her eyes.
“You told them you were single?”
“I told the truth, yes.”
She pursed her lips together. “Maybe you could tell them that was a mistake.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And what good would that do?”
Mom pushed the folder over to me, her finger directing me to a section in the paperwork that dealt with couples.
“It says here, if you're already together, the testing period is waived,” she said. “Meaning, they wouldn't have to wait six weeks.”
“Great,” I said. “Except I don't have a partner.”
She cleared her throat and I saw a shadowed look in her eyes. I knew the next words coming out of her mouth were words I wasn't going to like.
“You could ask Danielle,” she said, her voice soft and gentle.
Sometimes, I hated being right. Hearing her name again filled me with a dark anger and made me clench my jaw so tight, I was half-afraid I was going to crack a tooth.
“No,” I said simply.
“Come on, Malcolm, it's not like you two have to stay together forever,” she said. “She'd just be your surrogate. And once that was over, you two could go on your merry ways once more. It would be a mutually beneficial relationship.”
“At what cost, mom?” I asked her. “Because you know Danielle wouldn't agree to just being my surrogate. She'd try to wea
sel her way back into the family for some of the money as well. And as the mother of my child, she would have a solid claim.”
Mom sighed. “It might not be the best option, but it might be the only option, Malcolm,” she said. “You can't let Adam take over the company.”
“What if neither of us give dad a grandchild?” I asked. “Not like Adam has any options that I don't have. Maybe we'll both fail. What happens then?”
“Do you really want to take that chance, Malcolm?”
“It's at least worth talking about it,” I said. “What happens if neither of us give him a grandchild?”
“Only Terrance knows the answer to that one.”
“I'll talk to him,” I said. “Find out what the contingency plan is. And maybe, it'll be worth forgetting this whole thing after all.”
“Do you really want to let your father down, Malcolm?” she asked, her voice holding a hint of melancholy. “This is his dying wish – to have grandchildren. It's not just about who takes control of the company. This is about him wanting something good and pure in his life before he goes. And there is nothing more good and pure than children, sweetheart.”
She had a point, but it was asking for far too much, too fast. I reached across and took her hands in mine, trying to convey that with my eyes.
“I'm merely going to ask the question, Mom,” I said. “In the meantime, I'll be looking for other ways to give Dad his wish.”
Mom nodded her head just as Alba came into the room, carrying two mugs for us. She sat a mug of coffee down in front of me, and another one of tea for my mother. We stayed quiet with someone else in the room, even though Alba had known all our secrets over the years. This one though, seemed too personal. It was something I didn't want to share with anybody or have accidentally get out into the world. Alba flashed me a very maternal smile.
“You look stressed, Malcolm,” she said. “You really shouldn't stress so much. It's bad for you. Bad for your heart.”
“I wish it was that easy, Alba,” I said quietly.