Page 31 of The Surrogate Mother
“I mean, she was the passenger. She should have sat in the back.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Sam doesn’t seem particularly upset about it, so maybe it’s better not to push the issue. Yes, it was weird. I’m sure Shelley would agree with me. But Sam doesn’t get bothered by stuff like that. And anyway, it looks like he had lots of fun talking aboutPulp Fictionwith Monica.
It isn’t until we’ve been driving for several minutes that I remember a conversation we had at a conference table a few months ago:
“Just watchedDjango Unchainedagain on Netflix last night,” I said.
Monica, who was arranging coffee on the table, shuddered and said, “Oh God, Tarantino is so violent.”
I laughed. “Yeah, but my husband loves his movies. EspeciallyPulp Fiction. We’ve seen that movie more times than I can count.”
I close my eyes, trying to remember what Monica said to that. Did she say she’d seen the movie? I can’t recall. But still. Saying that Tarantino is “so violent” is a far cry from calling him her favorite.
Yet somehow, now it’s not only her favorite movie, but she’s memorized every line of it.
I bite my lip hard enough that it hurts. Sam is still driving, whistling to himself. He had a good night tonight—he has no clue what I’m thinking about.
I’m probably being irrational. Maybe I’m remembering the conversation with Monica wrong. Yes, she said themovies were violent, but she didn’t say she didn’t like them. Maybe she was saying it in a complimentary way, like, “Tarantino’s the only director who satisfies my thirst for violence!” And she never said she didn’t seePulp Fiction. Most people have seen that movie—it’s a very popular film. A classic, like she said.
Hey, maybe our conversation inspired her to revisit his movies.
I’m definitely making too much of this. So what if Monica sat in the front seat? So what if she shares movie taste with my husband? I’m the one who’s married to Sam. And thanks to Monica’s generosity, we’re going to be parents soon. I don’t know why I’m getting so paranoid.
12
This is Monica’s first OB/GYN appointment since her positive pregnancy test.
Based on her last menstrual period, she’s ten weeks along, nearly eleven. Her stomach is still flat as a board and her boobs are huge. She’s wearing a hospital gown, but has nothing on from the waist down. I came with her to the examining room and offered to wait outside while she changed, but she insisted it was “no big deal.”
I turned away when she was undressing, but I couldn’t help but take a tiny peek. And then I wished I hadn’t. I never thought of Monica as particularly attractive, but she’s twenty-three years old, and her body is absolutely perfect. Not that mine is terrible or anything, but everything on her is so tight and… well, like I said, perfect.
“This is exciting,” Monica comments.
“Yes,” I agree. “It is.”
She squeezes her white hands together. “They said on the phone we might be able to hear the baby’s heart today.”
The thought of it brings tears to my eyes. Yes, Sam and I almost had a baby before, but Janelle lived across thecountry and I never got to go to any appointments with her. I never got to experience anything like this.
Monica has been really wonderful, honestly. That night we drove her home was a little weird, but since then, she’s been so sweet. She updates me every day on how she’s feeling, she helped me brainstorm about baby names (all of which Sam promptly vetoed… what’s so wrong with Worthington?), and she offered to let me come to this appointment. I never would have asked, but I was thrilled by her offer.It’s your baby, Abby. You should be there.
I can’t believe I was being so petty about her sitting in the front seat in our car. Who cares about that? Maybe she was feeling nauseated and needed to be in front. That was probably it.
“By the way,” I say to Monica, “Sam and I want to have you over for dinner next week. Are you free on Wednesday evening?”
“I am.” She brightens. “That would be great. Thanks!”
“It’s our pleasure. You’re our hero, after all.”
She rests a hand gingerly on her abdomen. “Too bad Sam couldn’t make it to the appointment today.”
Okay, full disclosure: Monica invited meandSam to the appointment today. And I told her I’d ask him if he wanted to come, but I didn’t end up doing it. I’m sure he wouldn’t have wanted to come. It would have been really awkward with both Sam and me here. This is just easier.
“Maybe he’ll come to the next appointment,” she says.
“Maybe,” I say vaguely.
