Sam ruffles David’s hair affectionately before lifting him into his high chair. That’s something David’s got that isn’t like either of us—blond hair. Sam claims he was blond as a kid, but I’ve seen pictures and he’s lying. His hair was a lighter shade of brown than it is now, but he’s not towheaded the way David is. That hair is all Monica.

Thanks to my son, there isn’t one day that goes by when I don’t think of that woman. There isn’t a day when I don’t search his face for traces of her features. I will never stop watching his behavior, wondering if he’ll end up crazy like she was.

I was lucky in that when the police searched Monica’s apartment after she shot herself, they found plenty of evidence linking her and her mother to the murder of Denise Holt. They also found out she’d been stealing money from the company—something I worry would have been attributed to me, if things had gone differently on that fateful day. This is surely why they wanted to wrap things up neatly by making it look like I killed myself—she knew if she were ever under investigation, the truth would come out.

We also discovered that prior to offering to be my surrogate, Monica had been in contact with Janelle and had convinced her the two of us would not be appropriate parents. She was the one responsible for taking away the baby that was supposed to be ours.

Also, she’s still alive.

“Yum, yum,” Sam is saying as he holds the little plastic spoon out for David. “Yummy mashed turkey.”

David gobbles it up like it’s poached lobster. And honestly, it is pretty good. I sample everything Sam makes, because there’s still part of me that doesn’t trust him after Salmonella Surprise, but everything is great.

“Yum yum,” David babbles.

Sam laughs. He’s so good with David. He adores him more than I could have imagined. And David adores Sam. It sometimes makes me sad we had to wait so long for this. And we’d still be waiting if not for Monica.

So yes, Monica is still alive.

Alive but in a vegetative state. The last time I saw her, she was lying in a hospital bed, breathing with the aid of a ventilator, drool sliding down the side of her chin. Her scalp was crisscrossed with staples. Severe brain injury, they said. Unlikely to have a meaningful recovery.

I heard recently that she was off the ventilator, at least, but still not eating or talking or walking. She doesn’t know what’s going on around her. Still in a vegetative state. After a year, it would be considered permanent.