Page 89 of The Surrogate Mother
“You and Sam. Your marriage. It’s over.”
The orange juice and eggs in my stomach threaten to come back up. “What are you talking about?”
“Think about it, Abby.” She gives me a pitying look. “You’re a mess.Lookat you. You’re a drug addict. You’re about to be arrested formurder.” She shakes her head. “Sam and I feel it would be best for you to find another place to live, so we could live here and take care of the baby.”
With those words, she puts her hand protectively on her belly. That was the baby I was supposed to raise with Sam. Now he’ll still raise the child, but I’ll be out of the picture.
“I…” I look down at my empty plate, feeling ill. “I’d like to hear it from him.”
“Sam doesn’t have the heart to tell you. This is very difficult for him.”
“Oh, really?”
She snorts. “Honestly, you never should have been with him in the first place. You’re hardly even attractive, and intellectually—well, there’s no comparison. You don’t know real numbers from theReal Housewives of Orange County.”
Yes, I do. I know what real numbers are. They’re all numbers that are… well, real. Like, not imaginary.
I better not say that though. I could be wrong.
“Sam married you for money,” she says. “Your trust fund. Pure and simple. And now you’ve outlived your usefulness.”
Is she right? Did Sam really just marry me for my money? I wouldn’t have believed it if someone told me that a year ago. But now…
There’s a buzzing sensation in the back of my skull. I shake my head to clear it, but it doesn’t go away. I look at Monica, and for a second, I see two of her. But then when I blink, she becomes one again. I rub my face.
Monica frowns. “Are you okay?”
“I…” I squeeze my eyes shut, then open them again. “I feel sort of… dizzy.”
She looks down at the plate of eggs in front of me, then she leans back in her seat to glance into the kitchen. She calls out, “Was it in the eggs?”
Gertie comes out of the kitchen, drying her hands on one of my hand towels. Weirdly, she’s not holding her cane, even though she barely seemed able to take a step without it when she arrived. “No,” Gertie says. “It was in the orange juice. She drank it about ten minutes ago.”
My mouth falls open. “Gertie?”
“And you put the whole bottle in there?” Monica asks.
“Every last pill.”
Monica smiles at Gertie—this time a genuine smile. “Thanks, Mom,” she says.
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My head is spinning. I don’t know if it’s from whatever was in the orange juice or the fact that Gertie and Monica are suddenly co-conspirators, and possibly even mother and daughter. Is this a dream? Am I hallucinating this? It certainly can’t be real!
“You…” I make my gaze focus on Gertie, which is becoming increasingly difficult. “You’re Monica’s mother?”
“Oh, you’re quick,” Gertie laughs. “Maybe youaresmart enough to be with Sam.”
“But,” I sputter. “ImetMonica’s mother. I was at her apartment the other day. She… you’re not her.”
Monica sneers. “That was mystepmother, Louise. How could you thinkthatwas my mother? She’s nothing like me!”
I look between Monica and Gertie, and now I finally see it—the resemblance. It’s in the eyes and the chin. But I’m starting to get the feeling there’s more of a similarity than just the superficial. I remember what Cynthia said, about Monica’s mother always showing up.
“I should thank you, Abby,” Gertiesays, her eyes glinting. “When Sam first came to work to see you and he told me he was a math professor at the same school my daughter was attending, I told her right away this was someone she needed to get to know. Didn’t I, Monica?”
Monica nods. “I signed up for his class the very next semester. And… well, my mother was right, as usual. Sam and I fell in love instantly.”
