Unexpected Turn

by CY Jones

  “Of course it is,” I snark rolling my eyes. “Well, thanks for nothing.”

  I march out her office without a goodbye. I was completely livid. I’m sure if this was a cartoon, smoke would be coming out of my ears right about now. Not paying attention to where I’m going, I run right into a brick wall and let out a loud ‘omph’. Damn, what are they spraying these walls with because fuck it smells good? With my eyes closed, I take a deep whiff and bask in the scent.

  “Did you just sniff me?” A deep voice asks and I snap my eyes open, where my gaze clashes to a shocking pair of grays looking down at me.

  “Um, no, I mean yes, sorry,” I mumble as I try to kick start my brain. Like my car, it wasn’t working right.

  “Right this way,” the pleasant lady that met with the couple says, waving McHottie’s perfect, blonde wife forward. When she notices me, she smiles not at all pissed at how close I am standing to her husband. In fact, I would go as far to say she looked pleased.

  “Why hello, dear, are you lost?” The ‘nicer than I got’ worker asks.

  “No, I was just leaving,” I reply stepping away from the man before I do something stupid and sniff him again.

  On hurried steps, I bolt back through the waiting area and into the elevator. Only then do I finally breathe. Fuck, what am I going to do? I was counting on this job. Turning my wrist, I check my watch. It’s already after four. By the time I get back to Jersey, Billy will have all my shit out on the curb. Maybe a blowjob will buy me some more time or I can pretend to be his girlfriend until I get a job. By the time I get to the parking garage, I’ve hatched this great plan to seduce Billy which improves my mood a bit.

  I easily find my car in the parking garage. It’s such an eyesore amongst this sea of expensive automobiles. A couple of these vehicles I’ve only seen in magazines. There are some common middle class cars, but not many. And then you have my piece of shit, old rust bucket of a beater. A once grey now sorta greyish brown ‘95 Toyota. Yep, this is how I roll. Classy, huh? The car used to belong to my mama, but she gave it to me right before she checked herself into Sandy Hills. Apparently, her depression over my father leaving her ass just got too much for her to handle. I was eighteen and just barely graduated from high school. When it was clear I could no longer rely on my mama, I drove off to Jersey to try to make a go out of life. I wanted to gain new experiences and see something other than my mother’s sleepy southern small town. Now here I am, four years later, broke and struggling, but at least I’m free from the taint of being Maggie Cooper’s daughter.

  Apparently, when Mama met my dad, it was a big thing in her little town. The big city boy falling for the small town gal. Sounds like a Hallmark movie, doesn’t it? Turns out, Mama was hooked by the classic bad boy fever. Before she graduated high school, she got knocked up and her Hallmark movie turned into a cliche, and she became one of those sixteen and pregnant chicks you see on MTV. Before I turned five, Daddy took off for bigger and better things, forgetting he had a kid to look after. After that, Mama sunk into a deep depression. The neighbors tried to help as best as they could but Mama was in deep. She started doing less and less until I was practically raising myself. As soon as I turned eighteen, she committed herself. I left shortly after that, never looking back. Mama has never been much of a mother and caring daughter isn’t one of my titles.

  Once in the car, I turn the key, but it doesn’t start. Just a click and a loud rattle before it sputters out. I turn it again and get the same result. “Fuck. No, Beater, don’t do this shit to me right now. Do you know how much of a shitty day I’m having?” Bowing my head in defeat, I clonk my head on the wheel a couple of times before I let out a loud scream. Fuck me, I hate my life.

  2

  Grayson

  I sit here calmly as Ms. Taylor rattles off the pros and cons of IVF and surrogacy. Turning to my wife, I watch as she analyzes everything the woman is telling us. I chose this facility for a reason. Despite the high price tag and elite clients, this place is one of the best. From our last insane conversation two weeks ago, I’m hoping this lady can change her mind. I almost lost hope when it looked like Nichole was going to proposition that girl in the elevator. She looked wild and young. She was probably some college student here to interview for an intern position, but good luck with that with the way she was dressed. Short dress, bright red fuck me pumps, and a man’s leather jacket. She was more suited for the club than an interview. But even with how young she looked, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find her attractive. She was the complete opposite of Nichole. Hair so dark it had hints of blue cut in an edgy style, big green eyes that sparkled like emeralds, piercings, tattoos, and that body. Let’s just say she had a couple of great assets on her. Sure I found her interesting, but I’m loyal to my wife. I always have been, ever since we met in law school.

  We both graduated top of our class from Harvard where we landed jobs in distinguished law firms. She is a defense attorney and I am a prosecutor. A year later, we got married. Two years after that, I made partner and only months later, Nicole was diagnosed with cervical cancer. She spent a year fighting, going through numerous surgeries and chemo and radiation treatments before she finally beat it. She kicked cancer’s ass just like she used to do in the courtroom. I’m so proud of her and love her more than anything in this world. That is the only reason why I’m sitting here right now. Sure, she wants a baby. We both do. It was in our ten year plan. Cancer threw a wrench in that plan, but it doesn’t mean we have to go about having a kid in such an extreme way. It’s only been a couple of months of her being cancer free. We still have time to think about this. Just when I think Ms. Taylor is making some leeway, Nichole goes in for the argument and all my hopes fly out the window.

  “All that sounds very promising, but with my situation, I don’t think I want to put my body through any more extreme medical procedures.”

  “Yes, dear, I understand that. I’ve read over your medical file thoroughly and I have to tell you, your chances of conceiving on IVF alone is pretty low. Even if we use chemical enhancers, you still might not get pregnant, but by using a surrogate, you’ll have a better guaranteed chance of having a healthy child. All our applicants are well vetted and you have complete access to their file while you choose. The process itself is noninvasive for your husband. The samples he provides will be inserted into the surrogate of your choice, and if it takes, nine months later you’ll have a beautiful child of your own.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about, that if part. What happens if it doesn’t take? Will you use chemical enhancers on the surrogate?” Nichole asks.

  “It doesn’t happen often, but if your chosen surrogate doesn’t become pregnant within a certain amount of time, we do use other measures or you can always pick another surrogate.”

  “That’s not a route I’m willing to take. I know all about what ‘chemicals’,” she says in quotations, “can do to the body. You’ve read my file. You know what I’ve been through, how much chemo I’ve had in my system. I’ve been through the side effects and had to suffer through medical procedures that, although saved my life, were horrible to endure. I would never pay someone to have unnatural procedures done to their body.”

  “Our procedures are nowhere as extreme or invasive as chemo, Ms. Hastings. Plus chemical enhancers are a last resort measure we use. Your surrogate, if you chose to have one, may not need them.”

  Nichole looks at me and tries to read my mind. I know she wants to know if I’m still on-board and since I’m still sitting here, I must be. She must see what she’s looking for because she turns back to Ms. Taylor. “My husband and I are here looking for a more natural way to conceive. I can’t have a child, there is no getting around that. IVF will not work for me, so there’s no point in wasting our time or money on that. A surrogate is our only chance, but I refuse to have any child of mine subjected to machines, no matter how noninvasive they are.”

  “I’m confused, Ms. Hastings. What exactly are you asking
for?”

  “If we use a surrogate, I want the sperm implanted in her naturally. No machines, no chemicals.”

  “What?” She blanches. Ms.Taylor's whole face goes pale before red starts to blossom all over. She’s speechless. My wife has no doubtely surprised her like she did me when she first made this request, except my red face was more from anger than embarrassment.

  “My dear, that’s just not possible. We don’t...we, Mr. Hastings,” she sputters, turning to me. “You can’t possibly be okay with this?”

  For whatever reason, that pisses me the hell off. Fuck no, I’m not okay with this. “I may not agree with my wife, but I do stand by any decision she decides to make,” I tell her, giving her the diplomatic answer and not the ‘fuck you’ I’m thinking of.

  “I personally can’t help you. We’ve never granted such a request here. If you would like, you can talk to my director. Maybe she can help soothe your mind about the treatments used here.”

  “That’s not what I want,” Nichole tells her.

  “Okay then, how about a tour? Maybe if you see for yourself that anything we use won’t cause the baby or surrogate any harm, you’ll change your mind.”

  Nichole isn’t happy. She’s already made up her mind, but she humors Ms. Taylor anyway. I stand, heading out of the office first to get some air, even if it’s just for a second, when the dark beauty from before runs right into me. I watch her curiously as she inhales my scent with her eyes closed. I’m lost in some sort of spell when she tips her head up and those big green eyes land on mine. I should move but I find myself enthralled.

  “Did you just sniff me?” I finally ask.

  “Um, no, I mean yes, sorry,” she mumbles.

  Ms. Taylor and Nichole step out of the office. While Ms. Taylor looks at the girl with curiosity, I recognize the calculated look on my wife’s face and I’m ready to charge her like a bull and yell hell no.

  “Well hello, dear, are you lost?” Ms. Taylor asks her.

  “No, I was just leaving,” she replies before taking hurried steps out the exit. Thank fuck. With her gone, Nichole can concentrate on someone else. Anyone but the mysterious raven haired girl.

  “Right this way,” Ms. Taylor says, trying to herd us down a different hall, but Nichole doesn’t move, instead she watches the girl's retreating steps. When she’s out of view, Nichole turns back to Ms. Taylor.

  “Actually I think we should go. It doesn’t matter what I see. I’m not going to budge from my decision.”

  “Well, if you want to go home and think about it some more, you can always set up another appointment.”

  “Yes, we’ll do that.”

  I know my wife well, that’s a lie. She already knows what she’s going to do and I’m not liking the direction she’s about to take us. As soon as we’re alone in the elevators, I turn to her and say, “No.”

  “No, what?” she replies innocently.

  “Don’t play coy with me, Nichole. No way in hell am I fucking that girl and getting her pregnant. You saw how much of a trainwreck she was, not to mention she barely looks legal. Do you really want the mother of our child to be some Girls Gone Wild college chick?”

  “You’re over exaggerating, Grayson. She’s attracted to you and I can tell you’re attracted to her too, even though you’re trying hard to hide it. I’m not mad. She’s a beautiful girl and did you see that bone structure? She’s perfect.”

  “Nichole,” I huff exasperated.

  “Grayson, you agreed to back me up. We’re in this together. Don’t back out on me now.”

  I sigh, closing my eyes. I don’t want to do this. I’m so for going against this plan but I love my wife. She beat cancer to stay here with me. I can’t deny her this insane wish. “Fine,” I huff feeling the deja vu from the first time she approached me with this conversation. I’m just as on the fence now as I was then.

  Out in the parking garage, it doesn’t take long to find the girl. She’s just sitting in her car banging her head against the wheel before she lets out a loud scream. I arch my brow at Nichole before muttering, “And this is who you want the mother of our child to be?” Ignoring me, she moves to the girl’s crappy car and taps on the window. She jumps, startled before her wide green eyes look up at us.

  “Are you okay?” Nichole asks loudly so she can be heard through the glass.

  Instead of rolling down the window, the girl opens the door to her car and steps out. “Window’s broken,” she explains. I guess my confusion was written all over my face.

  “I asked if you are okay,” Nichole says.

  “Oh, yeah; I mean no. My car won’t start,” she replies sheepishly.

  “Do you mind?” I ask motioning to the car. Maybe if I can fix it, she’ll leave and not hear Nichole’s insane idea.

  “Sure,” she says, moving over. “It probably just needs a jump. Some dude had to jump it on the way up here.” I nod before popping her hood to take a look at her engine. As I work, I listen in on her and Nichole’s conversation.

  “So how did the interview go?” Nichole asks.

  “I didn’t get it. Guess I wasn’t what they’re looking for.” Her voice is hard and resentful. You could tell she was pretty angry.

  “What did you apply for if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “A surrogate.” At her answer, I hit my head on the hood but thankfully neither notice. “A month ago I saw an ad in the paper and decided to give it a shot. I had to do a bunch of labs and an extensive background check. After all that bullcrap they put me through, the vulture looking lady in there said I wasn’t good enough.”

  “I’m sorry. People can be harsh. Maybe it’s a good thing. You’re awfully young to be carrying a child and being pregnant in college does not mix well.”

  “Oh, I’m not in school,” she replies, laughing like that’s the funniest thing she heard.

  Their voices fade some as they make idle conversation then I hear Nichole ask her how old she is. “Twenty-two, why?” She asks suspiciously. She’s alot older than I pegged her for, but I stand by my Girls Gone Wild comment.

  “No reason, just chitchatting,” Nichole answers.

  “I think I should go.” Smart girl. She’s not stupid and can probably sense Nichole is up to something. I peer around the hood and see Nichole’s panicked face. She doesn’t want the girl to leave. She can tell she’s scaring her, but from what I see here, she’s pretty much stranded unless she can get a jump. We have jumper cables in our car, but I’m sure Nichole doesn’t want me to tell her that.

  “Your battery needs to be replaced,” I say, motioning her over. “See all that? It’s completely corroded. Even if you get a jump, it’ll only work as long as the car is running. As soon as you turn it off, it won’t restart without a new battery.”

  “Fuck,” she mutters under her breath.

  “You wouldn’t have any jumper cables on you, would you?” She asks.

  I turn my head to Nichole, who stealthy shakes her head no. “No, sorry,” I lie.

  “Oh okay. Well, I’m sure someone else will come along. I’ll ask them.”

  “Are you hungry?” Nichole asks suddenly.

  The girl blinks, looking between us like she’s trying to figure us out. “I’m good,” she replies slowly.

  “I’m actually starving and our favorite restaurant isn’t far from here. How about we treat you to dinner instead of you hanging out in a crappy garage? Afterwards, we can give you a ride home.”

  “Look, I’m sure you two are nice and all, but this is weird. I don’t know what your deal is but I’m not stupid. I can tell when someone wants something from me, so spit it out.” Again I repeat, smart girl. I’m almost impressed. It takes a strong person to call Nichole out on her bullshit.

  “I want you to be our surrogate,” Nichole blurts out.

  “Wait, what? What happened in there?”

  “I have unusual stipulations they’re not willing to follow.”

  “Like what?” She asks, confused. “
I thought he,” she says, pointing to me, “jerks off a couple of samples and then they turkey baste it in someone. What else is there?”

  “As colorful as that explanation is, there’s more to the process. I just recovered from Stage 4 cervical cancer. It’s the reason why I can’t have kids. My insides are so ate up from the chemo and radiation treatments. I don’t want my baby to be born from some radical treatment. They weren’t keen on my request of having my husband’s sperm naturally inserted.”

  “Wait! Am I hearing this right? You want your husband to actually fuck the surrogate? You want him to fuck me?”

  “Yes,” Nichole answers plainly.

  “Lady, are you crazy?” She asks and I nearly laugh.

  “No, are you?”

  “I don’t know, ask them,” she says so low, I almost didn’t hear her.

  “Why exactly did you get rejected?” I ask, curious now.

  Sighing, she says, “My mama checked herself into the coo-coo nest when I was eighteen. They were worried clients will see that and think I’ll pass on some kind of mental illness to the kid.”

  “What’s wrong with your mother?” I prod.

  “Nothing,” she answers defensively and I raise my eyebrow. “She fell into a deep depression after my daddy left her. She was never able to unravel herself from it and as soon as I became an adult, she committed herself and clocked out of life.”

  “Where are you from? I can hear an accent when you’re not hiding it,” Nichole asks, skipping past that mouth vomit of depressions and mental asylums.

  “South Carolina.”

  “Pretty state. So, would you like the job?” Nichole asks.

  She looks between me and Nichole, her head going back and forth like a ping-pong match. If she’s looking for answers from me, I don’t have them. I’m just as trapped in this web as she is. Maybe she’s trying to figure out if we’re serious. I don’t know. Despite what she says about not being crazy, I think there’s a tad bit of insane rooting around inside her. Fuck, Nichole too if I’m being honest.