BooksBarbecue
Back The Surrogate Save as PDF
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

“Let’s get the shit and get outta here,” I said, pulling out a red cart and pushing it into the aisles.

“First the car seat,” she said, searching.

I heaved the giant-ass box into our cart. She cruised through the aisles and picked up diapers, formula, bottles, anything that looked important. Burp rags, washcloths, and clothes. Everything was expensive.

My brothers and sister and I had gotten most of our clothes secondhand. Garage sales, thrift stores. And as the youngest, I got the hand-me-downs from my older siblings, so my clothes were third-, fourth-, and fifth-hand rags.

“Oh, and a winter coat,” said Cally, pulling a miniature sleeping-bag thing into the cart.

Finally, we got in line for checkout, and Cally gave me a look as if she liked having me there. I frowned and looked away. I didn’t want to encourage her. She was playing house again. I didn’t want to be a part of that. I hoped she wasn’t thinking she could keep this kid. She’d be on her own.

I unloaded the shit onto the conveyer belt, and the cashier started scanning. “Looks like baby came early?” said the nosy-ass cashier as she bagged our items.

I gave her a smirk to let her know I wasn’t into this. Cally took out the special Visa card her sperm lawyer guy had set up. For Cally to use for personal expenses and medical visits and whatever miscellaneous crap she needed. This was the card we’d used for everything so far on this trip. Except for the thirty bucks of gas I bought before I knew.

And this was the card Cally had said she would use to get a cash advance and pay me five grand.

Twenty-Two

Ruth

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 6, 2002

Morning

“How long have you been here?” Cally rubbed her face and tried to sit up.

“Not long,” I said, still in my quiet baby-talk voice. Whenever I held the baby, I automatically bounced, and my voice changed involuntarily to baby talk, which I objectively despised in others. Maybe it was maternal instinct? My words were meant for Cally, but I said them in that voice, as if talking to the baby. I nestled the baby on my lap and tickled her cheek, saying, “I brought you a cup of decaf, but they wouldn’t let you have it, would they? No! And I brought you some coffee cake, but I ate it, that’s right, I sure did.”

“She can’t understand you,” said Cally.

“I know,” I said, “and I’m sorry about the coffee cake.”

“That’s okay,” said Cally. “They bring me three meals a day plus snacks. I’m fine.”

“Look, I got her this Baby Gap sleeper. She’ll look so good in pink, with her dark hair and her . . . What color are her eyes?”

“I don’t think we know yet.”