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Back The Surrogate
Chapters (65)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. Part One
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-One
  26. Twenty-Two
  27. Twenty-Three
  28. Twenty-Four
  29. Twenty-Five
  30. Twenty-Six
  31. Twenty-Seven
  32. Twenty-Eight
  33. Twenty-Nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-One
  36. Thirty-Two
  37. Thirty-Three
  38. Part Two
  39. Thirty-Four
  40. Thirty-Five
  41. Thirty-Six
  42. Thirty-Seven
  43. Thirty-Eight
  44. Thirty-Nine
  45. Forty
  46. Forty-One
  47. Forty-Two
  48. Forty-Three
  49. Forty-Four
  50. Forty-Five
  51. Forty-Six
  52. Forty-Seven
  53. Forty-Eight
  54. Forty-Nine
  55. Fifty
  56. Fifty-One
  57. Part Three
  58. Fifty-Two
  59. Fifty-Three
  60. Fifty-Four
  61. Fifty-Five
  62. Fifty-Six
  63. Acknowledgments
  64. About the Author
  65. About the Publisher
Document

As the women turned to the fee section, Cally leaned her elbow on the table. At one point, she covered her mouth with her hand, presumably in awe of the dollar amounts. The numbers were there in black and white, but I thought it was important to read them aloud, and I did.

“That’s more than I’d make working full-time for, like, two years,” Cally said in a low voice.

In fact, at the end of ten months, assuming the baby was healthy, she would be paid, in addition to all medical costs, enough money to cover four years of tuition at a decent community college, plus housing, food, and expenses. Cally could finish her degree and start her life with no debt. This was an advantage that any young person would surely appreciate.

“Everybody okay?” I said, peering over my reading glasses to catch a glimpse of their reactions.

Ruth reached over to hold Cally’s elbow.

“Yep,” said Cally, pulling her arm away and folding her hands in her lap.

Nine

Cally

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 6, 2002

Night

“Are you gonna go pee or what?” Digger yelled through the passenger window as I stood next to the truck in front of the mini-mart.

“Yeah.” Standing still, I looked into the gas station store, brightly lit and well stocked for all the night drivers. I looked back into the truck. The baby lay on the seat, making a face like she was getting ready to cry.

“Go, then.” Digger motioned for me to get a move on, like I was a bad smell he wanted to push away.

I opened the passenger door and picked up Nell. Something told me I shouldn’t leave her in the truck with Digger. “I’m taking her with me.” I unzipped my parka and stuck the baby inside, then zipped it up again, like how Digger and I sometimes smuggled beer and Cheetos into the movie theater. I put on my fleece Minnesota hat and slammed the door behind me. It hurt to stand up tall, so I slouched over slightly.

The baby bulged out in front of me as I waddled into the mini-mart. Two large women stood next to the banana case and stopped their conversation to watch me enter. They smiled at my chest, and I realized Nell’s pink hat was sticking out of my parka. I covered her head and walked as quickly as I could to the back of the mini-mart to find the ladies’ room.

Once inside, I didn’t know what to do with the baby; she was fussing, but there was no place to put her. Maybe the sink? On top of the trash bin? I spun around trying to decide, then pulled out a bunch of paper towels and made a spot on the floor for her in the corner. I lifted my parka to undo my pants, but I was too late, and I peed myself. I pulled out my sopping wet pad and tossed it in the trash, happy I hadn’t put Nell on top of the bin. I needed clean pants and a new pad, but my supply was in the duffel bag, back in the truck. I stood there straddling the toilet with not a lot of options. Maybe the mini-mart sold adult diapers?