by Amy Brent
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 me 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 y
ou 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.
"What are we doing for supper tonight? Shall I order in?"
Marina stood up and checked herself in the mirror. She fluffed her hair. She pulled her blouse down, stretching it over her cleavage. She reapplied lipstick on already too-red lips. When had she become this woman? When had I stopped seeing her the way I used to? Which image had been true and which had been an illusion?
"Let's rather go out. I want to celebrate the implantation, have a bit more to drink before I have to sober up for the harvesting."
Right, as long as we could show face in public, spend an obscene amount of money, be somewhere we're forced to have a civil conversation with each other. She turned to me.
"Is that alright, honey?"
I nodded and smiled my million-dollar smile.
"Of course, sweetheart."
Camille
I opened my eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. My head felt like and airy like I'd been drinking, but if I had then I wouldn't be feeling like that anymore. I'd be hanging. A sharp chemical smell pinched my nose and the beeping of monitors pulled me back to reality.
I was in the hospital. The implantation. The baby. I wasn't going to be drinking for a couple of months. No hangovers for me. My head throbbed all the same so I closed my eyes again.
Something pinched my hand. It was a dull pain, one that I felt strangely numb to. When I moved it slightly something tugged on it and the pain became sharper. The IV needle in my skin. I remembered hyperventilating when they'd stuck it in me. I was terrified of needles. I'd passed out almost immediately when they'd given me the anesthetic because my breathing had been so fast. Maybe that was why my head was swimming.
Low voices drew my attention as if I was coming out of a fog and all my senses were sharpening. I focused on them. It was soothing to know I wasn't alone.
I recognized the voices, too. Mark, with his rich voice, and Marina with her specific accent, the one that suggested she came from the south. I was going to hear their voices for a while.
"I'm not saying I don't want to have a party. I'm just asking we wait for a couple of days. The implantation just happened."
"It's not like she's going to be there, and I'm not pregnant, Mark. There's no reason to wait. Why don't you want our friends to know about the baby?"
"I don't mind telling them. I'm happy for the world to know that we're expanding our family. I'm just asking for a few days. I want us just to be us first before we settle into the gossip channel again."
This conversation wasn't a happy one. Listening in wasn't soothing and I felt like somehow I was eavesdropping. I opened my eyes and tried to sit up.
"No, lie down," Mark said as I'd expected he would. I'd just wanted to stop their argument. When I looked at him he had a hundred-watt smile plastered on his face. Marina was smiling, too, when I looked at her. She put her hand on my leg and rubbed it through the blankets.
"How are you feeling?"
"Dizzy," I said. They were acting like everything was perfectly fine. Marina smiled, stretched her hand over the bed to Mark. He hesitated only a fraction of a second before he took it. They were united, a couple, smiling, in love. But the hesitation had been there. The smile wasn't a hundred percent genuine. I thought couples who were ready for a baby were in love, happy together. I thought that people with everything they could ever dream of couldn't find a reason not to be happy together.
Maybe I thought wrong.
"Doctor Kamal said the implantation went really well. We're so happy." Marina really did look happy. I glanced at Mark. He wasn't sure about being a father. He looked happy, too, though. How good was his poker face? Or had he changed his mind?
"So that's it?" I asked. "I'm pregnant?"
"Potentially," Doctor Kamal's voice came from the door. "We just need to make sure everything's going the way we planned. We have a few days where we'll all be holding our breath. I wouldn't pop the champagne - or in Camille's case, the fruit juice - just yet."
Mark gave Marina a pointed look, but it was over so fast I wasn't sure if I'd imagined it.
"I want you to come back in the next three days and we'll do a scan, see what's going on in there. I'm sure it will all be fine, but it will be good to know for sure we're in the clear."
He put a hand on Marina's shoulder. His hand was dark against the butter yellow of her blouse, the wheat color of her hair. Bottle blond? Surely not. That would be cheap.
"Thank you for everything," Mark said and held out his hand. Doctor Kamal removed his hand from Marina's shoulder to shake Mark's hand.
"We have a long road ahead of us but we're off to a good start. That's always a great sign."
Marina nodded and smiled. Mark just smiled. Doctor Kamal excused himself and left the room. Mark sat down again. For a moment a very awkward silence hung between us.
"Are you carrying on with your classes for the duration of the pregnancy?" Marina asked. I nodded. I couldn't afford to stop it all now. That was what this was all for.
Marina's cell phone rang and she left the room to answer. Mark was left alone with me. He cleared his throat and tapped his fingers on the bed. I wasn't sure what he was nervous about but his list was getting increasingly long.
"I want you to keep in touch with us, let us know how things are going. We'll be there during the sonar scans and I'll send you a check once a month for your allowance, anything you need."
My head was still spinning from the medication but the concept an allowance every month made me feel like I was floating. I'd been stressing about money so badly. I could pay my studies with it and make sure I had all my books.
"Thank you so much."
Mark shook his head. "Whatever you need, Camille."
His eyes fell on mine and they were drowning deep. He smiled and the small wrinkles around his eyes fanned out, changing his face completely. A real smile was so much hotter on him than a fake one. The air around us changed. It got thicker and I struggled to breathe.
"It can't be easy sacrificing nine months of your student life to have someone else's baby."
The current in the air broke and I felt like gasping for air, the disappointment hitting me square in the chest. Of course, the baby. Whatever I needed to make sure the baby was healthy and safe. God, I was such a fool. It had to be the meds in my system making me think stupid shit like Mark actually caring about me as a person. He was married with a baby on the way - I was the surrogate mom - and I was here thinking all sorts of romantic thoughts about him. I had to be high on medication.
Marina
came back into the room. Her eyes were sparkling. When she looked at Mark it was like she dimmed a little. Or was I just dreaming? I was building stories around Mark's confession, the small snippet of an argument I'd heard, what I wanted from Mark. It would be convenient for me if he was interested in me and the spark between him and his wife had died. It would be perfectly disgusting, in fact. It was disgusting that I'd thought it at all.
What a bitch I was being. Here they were, on their way to starting a family together, and I was being nasty about it.
"We have to get going, honey," Marina said. Mark nodded and looked at me.
"Will you be fine?" I took it for what it was this time - a question about the carrier of his baby - and nodded. "You'll probably be able to go back to your dorm in the morning."
I nodded again and smiled at them. Marina leaned over me and gave me an awkward hug.
"Thank you so much for what you're doing for us. We're happier than you know."
She touched my face and they left my room. Her perfume lingered around me after they'd gone. That was what it was all about. They were happy together. They wanted this baby together. I was being ridiculous. I was going to carry this through, give them what they deserved, and behave, otherwise.
I closed my eyes again, suddenly tired. This was going to be a long road; the Doctor had said. I agreed with him. Classes, tests, exams, pregnancy. I was going to juggle it all. I just had to tell Sharon. She still didn't know. I wasn't sure how to say it to her.
It was something I could worry about later, though. Right now, sleep sounded like the best plan. I took a deep breath, let it out again, and let the medication in my system drag me under again to a deep, warm, black hole.
Mark
We had a baby on the way. We had a baby room ready from all the times we'd been trying. We - or at least, I - looked at finances. It wasn't necessary, of course, I would always have enough to care for the child. I did it anyway. Another responsibility, another life, another person in my life that was somehow dependent on me. We announced it to our friends before I felt comfortable with the idea but she waited as long as she was willing to, which was more than she initially would have if I hadn't fought her with it.
