The Choices We Make (13 page)

25

KATE

February

Hannah walked out of her building and shielded her eyes against the bright sunlight, looking around. I honked from where I was parked on the other side of the street—it was lunchtime and the streets were extra busy, which meant I hadn't been able to find a spot any closer. I hoped traffic wasn't too bad as we only had fifteen minutes to get to the clinic for our meeting with the social worker. David and Ben were meeting us there, and I felt a flutter of nerves swirl in my belly as I thought about the appointment. Hannah waved, waited for traffic to ebb and then ran across the street. She opened the passenger-side door and tossed her giant purse to the floor before getting in.

“Hi,” she said, leaning over as she buckled her seat belt to kiss me on the cheek.

“Hi back. How was work?”

“Good. Fine. The usual.” She pulled her purse—which was the size of an overnight bag—onto her lap and rummaged around in its depths, finally finding her sunglasses.

I wrinkled my nose. “What is that smell?”

She pulled out a large Tupperware container with some sort of deep red liquid inside. “Soup,” she said. “We're doing this ‘round the world, thirty dishes in thirty days' thing, and this—” she wiggled the smelly container between us “—is day fourteen. Russian borscht. Beet soup.”

“But why is it in your bag, and now in my car?” The sour smell clung to my nose, and I opened my window a crack.

“Life of a recipe developer. I always have food in my purse,” Hannah said, laughing. “Plus, it's dinner. Some of us like beets.”

“Better you than me,” I said, shaking my head. “What else have you got in there? Anything that doesn't stink?”

Hannah pulled out a small glass jar, filled with something pale yellow. “Creamed honey?” I asked.

“Goose fat. Want to try it?” Hannah went to twist off the lid and I took a hand off the wheel to stop her.

“Gross! Hannah Matthews, put that away.”

“It's for day twenty, United Kingdom. Pork and onion pies with goose fat pastry.” She smiled at my disgust and tucked it back inside her purse. “How about a chocolate macaroon?”

“Now you're talking.” I took the chocolate-covered coconut ball she handed me and popped it into my mouth.

She sighed and stared out the window. “We made them with goose fat.”

“You did not!” I stopped chewing, not sure what I would do if she wasn't kidding since I couldn't very well spit it out while I was driving.

“You're right. We didn't.”

I swatted at her, and she laughed.

“Change of subject. Enough about goose fat and beets.” I glanced in my vanity mirror while we were at a red light, wiping a small bit of chocolate from the corner of my mouth. “How are you feeling about this whole social-worker-meeting thing, and everything?” I didn't need to qualify what “everything” meant—Hannah knew I was referring to the surrogacy.

“I'm...cautiously optimistic.”

“Does that put you closer to excited or terrified?”

“Probably right in the middle.”

I nodded. “I know it's probably hard to believe this, but this is going to work, Hannah.”

She looked out her window. “All my experience is with this kind of thing
not
working, so it's hard to imagine anything different.”

“I get that.” I glanced at her as she continued to stare out the window. “But I need you to at least try, okay?”

At that she turned quickly toward me. “Of course. I'm sorry—that sounded ungrateful.”

“No, it didn't. And it's your turn for good news. It's your turn, Hannah.”

“At least we don't have to rely on my body this time,” she said, giving a short, sharp laugh that cut off nearly as soon as it started. “My uterus is like a garbage disposal.”

I bit my tongue, wanting to tell her she was wrong and not to think like that—that she was beautiful and perfect in every way, even with her unreliable uterus—but I knew she wasn't fishing for a compliment. She simply needed to say it out loud. And while it made me uncomfortable to do so, I said nothing and let the comment hang between us.

* * *

I knew as soon as she told us this was a “safe space” that I'd be counting down the minutes until our session was over. Mina, the social worker assigned to evaluate our level of preparedness for the insemination and surrogacy, nudged the tissue box sitting on the coffee table closer to Hannah. With a tight smile and eye roll for my benefit, Hannah pushed it back to the center of the table. Mina missed the rebuff because she was pouring glasses of water for the four of us, chatting about the weather as is typical with San Franciscans. Laughter bubbled up inside me and I looked away from Hannah, trying to maintain some composure. Even though I knew this wasn't some pass-or-fail test, I didn't want to give “you're in a safe place” Mina any reason to doubt just how ready and committed we were to this.

“I know calling this ‘mandatory' doesn't give the impression you have much choice in the matter,” Mina said, handing us the water. “But you do. You always have a choice.”

I nodded, while David murmured in agreement and Hannah said, “Right, of course.” Ben smiled and took a sip from his glass, and I could tell it was just for show, his smile. None of us wanted to be here, but the fertility clinic required this meeting to move forward.

Though I had no doubts about carrying a baby for Hannah and Ben, I was finding the labels we had been assigned awkward and ill fitting. I thought of us as four friends, working together to achieve a dream. Simple. Beautiful. I did not relate to the term
surrogate
, and calling Hannah the “intended mother” felt formal and strange. She was just Hannah. Hopefully mother-to-be Hannah, if Mina ever let us out of here.

“So how does this work?” I asked, shifting in the overstuffed chair.

Mina watched me, leaning forward in her own puffy armchair. She was quite petite, and the chair practically swallowed her up. “It's normal to feel anxious,” she said. She leaned onto her crossed knees and her feet barely touched the floor, giving the impression she was being held in place by only the tips of her toes.

“Oh, I'm not anxious,” I said. While true, I also wasn't entirely comfortable with being evaluated. Mina smiled, and I smiled back. For a moment we both sat there, her tiny in the giant chair with a smile that displayed all her teeth, and me, leaning way back against the springy cushions, trying to appear as if this was all perfectly normal.

“Good, good,” Mina said. “My job isn't to decide if you should go through with the surrogacy. That decision is up to the four of you. I'm here to talk through the potential challenges you might face with the process.” She cleared her throat. “Especially in your situation, because this is an altruistic, traditional surrogacy. Most of the arrangements we deal with these days involve gestational carriers.”

“Right, of course,” Hannah said. She looked nervous, her fingers fiddling with a pen. Ben swirled the water in his glass, watching it as if it were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen, and David's knees bounced up and down. We had agreed before going in that I would be spokesperson, in part because I had a bossy streak but mostly because I wanted Mina to know I was confident in this decision—that it had, in fact, been my idea. It felt important for her to understand that.

“I'm just going to come out and say it, Mina,” I began. She nodded her encouragement. “But we—” I gestured to David, Hannah and Ben with a sweep of my hands “—we don't really see there being too many challenges. We've been friends for years. Decades, actually. And we've already talked a lot about this, separately
and
together.”

Mina nodded, only the slightest of frowns playing across her mouth. I smiled confidently, certain she was about to say we clearly didn't need to be here and good luck.

“What if you can't get pregnant, Kate? Or if you do and then miscarry? I find many surrogate mothers experience a lot of guilt in that situation.” I took a sip of water, my throat suddenly bone-dry. “Or if one side wants to keep trying while the other side has decided enough is enough?” When none of us answered immediately, Mina continued, “And what about your children, Kate and David? Are they prepared for this?”

I glanced at David, whose eyes were fixed on his knees.

“And though I know it's terrible to even imagine,” Mina went on, “have you considered what you might do if there's a genetic abnormality with the fetus?”

“Well, I—” I hesitated, flustered by the sudden shift to the dark and tragic, and was grateful when Hannah interjected.

“Naturally we would support Kate's decision on something like that,” she said, looking shaky and ill. Ben didn't look much better.

Mina nodded. “But this is going to be
your
intended child, Hannah and Ben. So while it might seem simple right now in this office, I promise you that a decision like that isn't always so easy if or when complications arise.”

“We understand,” David said, reaching over to hold my hand tightly. I had run out of steam, the conversation deflating me like a pin meeting the taut surface of a balloon. “We know things can go wrong. I'm a paramedic—I see terrible stuff every day. But we're ready.” He smiled at me, because he knew how much I needed it at that moment. “We've talked to our girls and have been honest with them about what this means. And as for the what-ifs, well, we're just going to have to figure those out as we go. We love Hannah and Ben. And we want to do this.”

I saw Hannah's hand reach out for the tissue box. I didn't look over at her, or Ben, certain if I did I would lose it entirely. Instead, I took a deep breath and locked eyes with Mina.

“What else do you need from us?” I asked.

“It isn't about what I need, Kate,” Mina said. “I'm here to be a conduit between the four of you and answer any questions you might have. My job is to make your job easier, and to help make sure the relationship you have now stays strong and healthy through the process, and afterward, as well.”

I nodded and pressed my lips together. “Okay,” I said. “Then why don't we start over?”

“I think that's a great idea,” Mina replied, shining another big smile my way. “Here are a few brochures that I think might be helpful...”

26

KATE

“This is more complicated than I thought,” I said, watching David floss his teeth in the bathroom mirror, using one piece per tooth. I resisted the urge to yank the dental floss out of his hands and pull out a superlong strand and demand he use it. I was on edge, between our session with Mina and my subsequent meeting with the fertility attorney to go over the contract, the gesture I had been so excited about was turning into a giant ball of bureaucratic red tape.

David ran his tongue over his teeth, tossing another small white snake of floss into the trash can. “What is?”

Tapping my wet toothbrush against the side of the sink with perhaps a tad too much force, I added some toothpaste on the bristles. “Mina, our ever-helpful social worker. And Damon Cumberland, fertility attorney and fatalist.” I popped the toothbrush in my mouth and attacked my teeth, brushing too hard for my sensitive gums.

He had another tiny piece of floss in hand, enough to wrap once around each of his pointer fingers tightly so his fingertips went bright red. His eyes met mine in the mirror. “Kate, they're just doing their jobs.”

I scowled and then spit noisily into the sink. “I know that. Obviously I know that.” I dropped my toothbrush into the holder and went into the bedroom. If I had to watch David floss one more tooth, I was going to lose it, and it wasn't his fault. But then I heard him sigh, which stoked the fire in my belly and made me angry about the floss all over again.

I noisily opened and shut my drawers, getting one of David's old T-shirts that I liked to sleep in, and was settled under the covers once he came out of the bathroom. He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms. I scowled again. “What?”

He pushed off the door frame and lay on the bed beside me, propping his head up with his hand. “Are you sure about this?”

This time I sighed deeply, hoping the irritation I intended shone through, and rubbed some thick cream into my bare arms. The vanilla scent filled my nostrils and I took another deep breath.

“I'm just asking. This is a big deal, Katie.”

Throwing back the covers, I got up and went back to the bathroom to pee. I didn't shut the door—we were long past that stage of things. “Why does it seem like everyone thinks I don't get that?”

“Maybe because you're the one getting pissed off whenever someone tries to help you?”

He said something else—something about how he didn't think our attorney, Damon Cumberland, was all that bad—but I flushed at just the right moment to block most of it out. Back in bed I tucked the duvet around the edges of my body and dropped my head onto the fluffy pillow a couple of times until there was a comfortable dent in the down stuffing.

“What's going on? I thought he was thorough and friendly enough.”

I pressed my lips together, thinking about how to explain it. I wasn't sure I could pinpoint exactly what it was. Maybe it had to do with Mr. Cumberland's very expensive-looking suit and fancy office, which I knew Hannah and Ben's hard-earned dollars were helping finance because they insisted on paying for my attorney along with their own? Or the fact that we even needed an attorney, let alone two? More than likely it was how Cumberland had presented the terms of the contract. Everything from payment, which I insisted be removed from the contract, explaining this was altruistic and, no, I wouldn't take a penny from Hannah and Ben—that this was in every way a
gift
to them—to pregnancy termination, to health risks, to decisions about horrible, tragic things I didn't even want to consider. Yes, my current state of mind had a lot to do with the contract, a multipage legal document void of emotion that did nothing to showcase the love and motivation behind this decision. The entire process was starting to feel like a business transaction.

And, yes, that pissed me off.

“His suit was too expensive,” I said.

“His suit?”

“Yes, his suit. And I bet he has a closet full of other suits just like it. And whatever exorbitant fees Hannah has to pay him will go toward yet another too-expensive suit.”

“Kate, sweetheart, I—”

“Don't you get it?” I sat straight up and slammed my hands on either side of my legs, which were locked in the duvet's burrito-tight space. “This is something special and private. It should never have been typed out in boring black ink on legal-sized paper, where I'm called
The Surrogate
and you
The Husband
, and Kate and Ben
The Intended Parents
. And I don't care what Mina thinks about any of it, or what ‘challenges' she feels so damned compelled to share with us. Or that Damon Cumberland is simply trying to ‘protect my legal rights,'” I said, my fingers going up into air quotes around my last words. I sighed and lay back against the pillows, letting David run his hand gently over my stomach. “Of course I'll take any medication the obstetrician recommends, and my vitamins, and I won't smoke or drink or use ‘illicit' drugs. And no sex before or after the insemination, and I definitely would never abort this baby. I mean, what the fuck?” I put an arm across my face and closed my eyes, remembered the million other things I was contracted to do, or not do, my head swimming. “I wanted this to just be between us, you know? Me, you, Hannah and Ben. There are so many people involved, so many people telling me what to do, how to behave, how to feel.”

“I know,” David said. “I know this isn't what you were expecting.”

I pulled my arm down and glanced at David. “No, it wasn't. And I really hate that Hannah and Ben have to pay for this.”

“Kate...” He shook his head and looked away, and I knew it meant he had something to say I probably wasn't going to like.

“What?”

“Hannah and Ben are paying for this because they don't only need this contract...they want it. Ben said it was really important to Hannah.”

I stared at him, not saying a word. Hannah had nodded and smiled and agreed with me when I ranted about all the legalese. Was she worried I wouldn't do what I said I would? I felt sick, and for the briefest of moments wondered if I really was sure about all this.

“The contract isn't just to protect your rights. It's to protect Hannah and Ben, too, and let me explain that before you say anything.” He held up a hand, and I held in my argument. “Not from you, Katie. Hannah trusts you. Ben trusts you. But you heard the attorney. Even though our relationship with one another isn't complicated, what we're
doing
here is. So we need to make sure we're all on the same page.”

“But we are on the same page, aren't we?”

“I believe we are,” David said. “But these are the hoops, Kate. And if you want to do this for Hannah and Ben, you gotta jump through them.”

“Stupid hoops,” I replied, but my frown was a little less intense this time.

“There are so many things I love about you, but this?” He placed a hand on the left side of my chest, right over my heart. “This is the thing that I love the most.”

“My left breast?” I asked, a smile overtaking the frown.

“Yes, Kate, I love your left breast more than anything else about you.”

I nodded. “I thought so. You have a tendency to focus more on that one.”

“Do I?” he said, rolling his body on top of mine. It was a bit hard to breathe like that, but I didn't want him to move. “Well, guess I should probably do something about that.” He kissed my neck and I tilted my head back, then cracked one eye open and smiled. “Only over-the-clothes stuff, though, okay? Don't forget I'm on contract.”