by Amy Brent
The dorm was a lot like the one where I’d studied, a thousand years ago. It felt like a different life, now, a different person altogether. The brown bricks had faded to a deep, dark color. The steps up to the front door were hollowed out they’d seen so many students’ feet and everywhere there was the sign of life and ambition, sparkling eyes, new goals, the beginning of a journey. Don’t trust the golden glow, I wanted to tell them, there’s still a chance you can end up like me.
Her door was closed and music came from underneath it, a tune that crawled under my skin. I knocked on the door, loudly, so she could hear me.
The door opened and the music rolled out of it. She stood in front of me wearing pajama bottoms that only covered the most important bits and a t-shirt with Sylvester and Tweety on it. Long, caramel legs went on forever. Her curly hair was pulled back, emphasizing big, surprised eyes.
“Mark.”
I nodded.
She leaned to the side and the music clicked off. I wanted it back. It had been warm and comfortable. I held up the envelope.
“I brought you your check.”
She took it from me, tracing a finger around the corner before looking up at me.
“Trouble at the post office,” I lied. I didn’t have a good reason to be here and now I felt out of place. I could be any of these kids’ father. Soon I would be. The idea made me feel like I was choking.
“Are you alright?” Camille asked and she sounded worried. A teenager was worried about me, one of the wealthiest men in town.
“Fine, fine.” I waved my hand.
“Do you want to come in?”
I peered over her shoulder into the dorm room. It was small, cozy, full of posters and books. I shouldn’t say yes. I should turn around and go home, I knew that. I nodded and stepped into the room when she held open the door.
It was warm in her room. Comfortable. She cleared the chair for me, stacking the books on her desk instead so that I could sit down and climbed on her bed. She crossed her legs and pushed a pillow into her lap. Thank God. Her legs were so damn distracting.
“Are you enjoying your studies?” I asked. The books on the desk were all finance books. Terribly boring for someone so out there as Camille. She looked like she should be doing art or music or drama instead.
She shrugged. “It’s a degree. I can get a job with it. It’s something my family hasn’t had for a while. The degree, I mean.”
I nodded.
“Your family must be proud.”
I thought about the baby. The girl sitting opposite me was pregnant with my child. My and Marina’s child.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” I felt like an idiot the moment I asked. That shouldn’t matter.
She chuckled and the sound of her laughter was light and airy. Her eyes sparkled and I liked seeing her smile.
“Between having a baby and studying finances I won’t have much time for dating.”
Right. The baby. It wouldn’t work if she was in a relationship. I should have known.
“I am sure they’re all falling at your feet, though, a gorgeous girl like you.”
I snapped my mouth shut the moment I’d said it, wondering where the hell that had come from. I wasn’t flirting with her, was I? I was just making conversation. That was it. When I looked at her again she was smiling but the smile was softer than before. She shrugged with one shoulder and her breasts moved underneath her shirt. I forced my eyes away.
“I don’t really think I’m cut out for dating,” she said. She was volunteering information. I paid attention, taking the distraction.
“Why?”
She shrugged. I kept my eyes glued to her face. “I just don’t think I’d be good in a relationship. I can’t seem to figure out what I want, and no one wants someone like that.”
I frowned. “You’d be surprised how many people out there have no idea what they’re doing.”
Like me. I had no idea. I wasn’t going to admit to that, though.
“You have Marina.”
She just had to point that out. I nodded. “I do. But sometimes I wonder if I’ve done the wrong thing. If I married the wrong woman.”
She raised her eyebrows at me. Thin and manicured eyebrows. Everything about her was natural and beautiful.
“That’s a very heavy statement for someone who’s about to have a baby.”
I nodded. I knew it was. I should have kept my mouth shut. Instead, I kept talking like I was drunk or something. I just couldn’t help it. There was something about Camille that made me feel like saying what I wanted to say wasn’t wrong, like she wouldn’t judge me for it. When was the last time I felt like I could tell Marina anything?
“How do you know if it’s the right woman?” she asked. It was a fair question. It was the kind of question she was entitled to ask at her age. I should have asked someone that question when I was her age.
“I think it has to be someone you’re comfortable with, someone you can talk to. Someone you run to when you feel like everything is crashing around you.”
I stopped talking. Those words described her in a lot of ways. Thank God she didn’t know what I was thinking. She nodded and fiddled with the edge of the pillow.
“Sometimes the person you’re comfortable with isn’t the person anyone that makes sense, though. Sometimes things can get really crazy.”
Was she talking about me? Of course not. I was being ridiculous now. I was just in a bad place. And the wrong place. I shouldn’t be here. I slapped my hands down on my knees and got up.
“I have to get going.”
I walked to the door. Camille got off her bed and that put her right up against me. I heard her breath catch in her throat. I was aware of how close she was. I pushed the thoughts away. I was being ridiculous. Marina. I had to think of Marina and the baby. The baby Camille was carrying.
Shit.
I pushed the thoughts away and she pulled the door open for me.
“Thank you for the money.”
I nodded without looking at her and walked away. I waited until I heard the door click shut. It felt like it took forever. When it finally did, I turned around and looked back.
The drive home was restless. I felt like there were bugs on my skin. My clothes irritated me. The traffic was too heavy, I was edgy and irritated. I had to go to the office to pick up the documents I needed to send off but I didn’t feel like all the glass and chrome – another prison. Instead, I just drove home.
There was a car in the driveway, one I didn’t recognize. I opened the front door.
“Honey?”
No answer. The lounge was empty. No one on the terrace. I started up the stairs. The house was quiet. Quiet and full, like a secret, not like loneliness. I pushed the bedroom door open.
She was on the bed, naked. Her blond hair hung down her back. Hands gripped her hips, dark against her light skin. I knew what I was seeing but I didn’t feel anything. I cleared my throat.
She whipped her head around and her face changed to a mask of horror. She tumbled off the man she’d been fucking and clutched the sheets to her chest like I hadn’t seen her naked before. I looked at him. Doctor Kamal.
“Mark.” Her voice was pleading. He looked at me, frozen, unsure what I was going to do.
“I’m going to go for a drive,” I said. My voice was calm. It sounded distant like it didn’t belong to me. “When I get back I would like for you to be dressed.” I looked at Kamal. “And you… you had better be gone by the time I get back.”
The last sentence was a threat. My calm voice made it sound that much more menacing. I turned around and walked back downstairs, taking my car keys from the counter. I didn’t know this person. I didn’t know myself. Then again, when last had I known myself?
Camille
My doctor’s visit was coming up. I was starting to get nervous. I’d been to the doctor jut after implantation to make sure everything had gone well, but after that, it had been life as normal. Except for the fact that I couldn’
t drink and that I threw up all the time. Why did they call it morning sickness? It hit you any damn time of the day.
Sharon and a few other friends knew what I was doing. They all thought I was crazy. Sharon thought I was making a mistake but at least she understood why I was doing it. She’d been there when I’d lost all that money, after all.
I couldn’t get through to Marina. I’d tried to call her a couple of times during the last week but there was no answer. I wanted her to be there when we found out the baby’s sex. I expected she wanted to be there.
I’d tried calling Mark, too. He was just as unreachable. I wasn’t sure where I stood with him if I had to be honest. I felt like he was very raw and open toward me. I didn’t mind it – in fact, I liked it – but I wasn’t sure how he saw it. Still, I needed to get a hold of one of them before the doctor’s visit. It was their baby, after all.
Two days before the appointment I skipped my last class and got on the bus. It took me all the way across town. I got off and walked the last few blocks to the address that was on Mark’s check. I stopped in front of the house and double checked the address.
The house was enormous, the way you saw on the MTV sometimes. Through the slatted gate I could see everything. The driveway led up to a modern block of a house, painted a sandy color with plants everywhere that made it rich and exotic.
I took a deep breath. Of course, if they had so much money to spend on a surrogate mother they had to be rich. I pressed the button on the intercom. A little round lens told me he’d be able to see my face when he answered. Or Marina. She could answer, too, obviously.
“Camille?” It was his voice crackling over the speakers and I breathed easier. She made me nervous.
“Hi, yeah. It’s Camille.”
The gate rolled open and I walked in. I was starting to show a belly, not much but it was something, and my energy wasn’t what it used to be. The front door opened before I reached it. Mark looked tired when I finally stood in front of him. He hadn’t shaven in a few days, stubble shabby on his chin and he had circles under his eyes suggested he’d slept very little or not at all. He stepped to the side to let me in.
“Is everything alright?” He sounded a little worried. “Is the baby okay?”
I nodded. “As far as I know everything is fine, but I couldn’t get a hold of either of you. I have an appointment coming up, we’re supposed to meet with Doctor Kamal the day after tomorrow to find out the baby’s gender.”
Mark nodded and walked through to the kitchen. I followed him. The house was as luxurious on the inside as on the outside. There were paintings on the wall, original stuff, and furniture that probably cost more than my entire degree a piece. Mark stood in the kitchen.
“It’s a little chaotic at the moment. I think we might need to postpone the doctor’s appointment.”
I frowned and looked around. The house was quiet. Empty.
“Is Marina okay? Is she ill?”
Mark shook his head. “No, she’s not here. Unfortunately, Marina and Doctor Kamal had an understanding that was a little more personal than I would have liked.”
I frowned.
“I don’t understand.”
Mark sighed. “She’s sleeping with the good doctor.”
I stilled. My hand rose slowly to my mouth.
“Oh, my God.”
“I know.”
That was disgusting.
“But you’re having a baby.”
Mark shrugged. He had the air of someone who didn’t care but judging by his looks – his exhaustion, his neglect – he really cared. I wanted to be able to comfort him, help him. I felt sorry for him. I thought about the baby.
“What’s happening now with the pregnancy?”
The baby needed a home. A real one. Not a broken one. A mom and a dad.
“You do still want it, right?” I couldn’t be left with the child. I needed them to take it. I was suddenly panicked.
“Don’t you worry about that. I will make sure that the baby is taken care of and you can have your life back, I promise. This is our problem and we’ll make sure everything works out.”
I took a deep breath and blew it out again. This was scary. Mark stood around in the kitchen, looking lost. He looked at me, hands on his hips. I hadn’t seen him in casual wear before. The t-shirt he wore stretched across his body and he was more built that I thought he would be. Young and fit, that’s what he looked like despite the fact that he was in his forties. Maybe his personality had a lot to do with it.
“Would you like to stay for dinner?”
The question was out of the blue and I hesitated.
“I know how it is to live on cafeteria food.”
I smiled. “Yeah, it’s not my favorite. I’d like that.”
He nodded and smiled and it spread over his face slowly like he hadn’t smiled in a while. I pulled out a bar stool at the counter island and made myself comfortable while Mark moved around the kitchen, getting food together. There was something ridiculously attractive about a man that could cook.
“What are you making?” I asked.
“Lamb. Wild rice.”
That sounded really good. Cafeteria food really was horrible in comparison. Mark put the lamb in the oven once it was heated up and poured me a glass of grape juice and wine for himself. He started on the gravy and I told him about some of my lecturers. He stood half to the side so that he didn’t have his back to me.
The smell of gravy started filling the kitchen, rich and sweet, and my stomach turned. I felt a little sick. Lately, this had been happening. Smells triggered me.
I tried to ignore it. I took a sip of my juice and focused on what we were talking about but nausea got worse. I put my hand to my stomach.
“Can you show me where the restroom is?” I asked.
“Down the passage and to your left,” Mark said. I nodded and got up. My body retched the moment and I did and I ran for the bathroom, hoping I wouldn’t throw up on Mark’s expensive carpet.
I threw up loudly and ungracefully. Mark appeared behind me and made sure my hair was out of the way. He rubbed my back and when it was over he offered me a glass of water.
“God,” I complained. “I’m sorry.” I felt embarrassed that he’d seen me like that.
He sat down next to me on the floor. “Don’t be. You’re pregnant. What can I get you?”
I shook my head. “A toothbrush would be nice.”
He got up and opened the cabinet, taking out a new one. I laughed.
“I didn’t think you really had one.”
He shrugged. I took it from him.
“Let me get you something plain to settle your stomach,” he said and left me to it. I found toothpaste next to the sink and brushed my teeth, cleaning myself up. Vomiting was never pleasant.
When I came out of the bathroom Mark waited for me with a plate of crackers. He held it out to me and I took one, nibbling on it. He looked at me and his eyes were soft, adoring. I wasn’t sure what he was feeling but I was grateful he was doting on me. I hated being sick alone.
He looked at me for a moment, like he wanted to say something. He didn’t and I was just about to turn away when he leaned forward and kissed me. The plate knocked against my shoulder and crackers fell to the ground. Mark didn’t care. I didn’t care. He had his lips pressed against mine in a reckless question, a challenge, almost. Do you want this?
I didn’t say no. I didn’t pull away. Maybe I should have. I didn’t want to. The kiss had been rushed but his lips were sure on mine. I opened my mouth and let him in and he kissed me until I was a melted puddle on the floor.
When he finally broke the kiss I felt lightheaded and out of breath. His eyes were dark and drowning deep.
“I don’t feel sick anymore.”
He smiled. “Good,” he breathed. “Because I think we’re out of crackers.”
Mark
She was soft and she was tender and she was beautiful. She was also young, but I ignored that fact bec
ause she was an old soul in my eyes. She was more mature than a lot of people my age, including the woman I’d ended up marrying.
I wanted her. Not just her intellect and her, but her body, too. She was in my house, dressed in skinny jeans and a shirt that showed off her curves and I wanted her. And no, she wasn’t a rebound after the bitch of a wife cheated on me with the one person we’d both confided in. I had to be honest with myself and admit that I’d wanted Camille even before Marina had shown her true colors. I just hadn’t admitted it to myself then.
But now… what did I have to lose? My heart had already been ripped to shreds, I’d been used and abused for my money and my status, and I had no one that would stand up for me. No one except Camille. I didn’t think she admired me for my money, either. She talked to me like I was one of her peers like we were equals.
She kneeled down to collect the fallen crackers. I kneeled down, too, but my attention wasn’t on the dropped food. It was on her. The way she moved, the way she looked at me when she put the crackers back on the plate. Her hands. Her eyes. Her mouth.
“I’m sorry.”
I wasn’t sorry at all, but I felt like I had to say it just in case she was.
“Don’t be.”
Anything else would have been bad. Anything else would have made me feel like I’d overstepped some line. It’s okay, don’t worry about it, it’s nothing, all those would have felt loaded. Saying that I shouldn’t be sorry held no sarcasm, no regret.
I reached out and hooked her hair behind her ear. Her curls were beautiful. I let one run around my finger. She tipped her head to the side just a little, enough to press her cheek against my hand. Her skin was soft and silky and I wanted more of it.
I leaned into her again, stopping only inches away from her face. I wanted more, but I wanted to be sure she wanted it, too. I waited for her to close the distance. She hesitated and I thought that was it, she was going to reject me. But then she closed the distance and her lips were on mine and the kiss was different. Expected, calculated. Soft and warm and comfortable. With her, it felt different than it had ever felt with Marina. With Camille, it felt right. It felt real. It felt like home.