I spend a lot of the afternoon thinking about my virginity, but not because it bothers me. I do not care that I am still a virgin. I never planned to wait, sex has just never happened for me; no guy I dated has made me want sex, and now that I have waited this long anyway, I want to wait for someone special…ever if it sounds cliché.
Virginity is on my mind because of step two of the surrogate program. Step two is full of personal questions. How many hairs there are on your head? When was the last time you had sex? When was the last time you were on your period? I have no trouble answering, but it gets repetitive putting down Not Applicable.
I fill it out between my classes. I should be doing homework, but I cannot get it out of my head. After I send my answers, I receive a confirmation email that says they will get back to me in about two weeks. It should make me feel better, but it does not. As if reading my mind, my mom calls me that night.
"How's dad?" I answer the phone while doing homework. "Mom?" I question when I realize she is crying on the other side of the line. There is nothing I can do-they're thousands of miles away.
"Mom, answer me. Please," I beg. My heart is beating fast, and I feel like I am going to throw up.
"Emily?" my little sister, Diana, suddenly says.
"What's going on?"
"Dad had another heart attack," she says. "The doctor say he's going to need a valve transplant.
"Oh my god," I gasp, terrified. "Is he okay? Is he stable?"
"Yes, but mom was really scared."
"Tell mom not to worry-I'm going to send money soon. Tell the doctors to do whatever it takes to save dad."
"Are you coming home?"
"I can't," I say, trying my best not to cry. "I'll be done with school in a few more months but tell mom no to worry about money. I am going to help. Take care of her-and of dad, please."
After the phone call, I cannot sit still- this whole situation is making me crazy. But for the next week or so, I busy myself with school and my job at the ice cream shop. My usual routine: school, work, homework. I have never really been one of those girls to party and do crazy things every weekend. To be honest, I do not know how they have time to party- I would need more hours in the week.
But it is around noon on Thursday when I receive the call as I am walking out of class. "Hello?"
"Is this Emily Valdez?" a woman asks.
"This is she."
"My name is Olivia and I'm from the Growing Generations Program."
My hand goes to my chest, and I suddenly feel out of breath. "Right. Hi."
"I'm calling because there has been a match for you."
"What? I thought you didn't match me with someone until after screening." Whatever "screening" really means.
"You are correct, but there is someone specific who has shown an interest in you; they would like to meet as soon as possible."
"I don't understand-who are they?"
"I can't tell you over the phone, but what I can tell you is that his person is interested in your surrogacy services and your well-being."
This is all happening too fast. I do not even know what I am doing.
"Miss Valdez? This person will contact you shortly- we just wanted to let you know."
"Great," I say, hesitant.
"Great," she repeats, way more enthusiastic. "Hope it all goes well, Miss Valdez. We will see you soon. Have a wonderful day."
"Bye," I murmur
This is too weird. Form what I read on the Growing Generations website, I was supposed to do a screening before being matched. And I thought everything was supposed to be through the program. This seems…shady, and to be honest, it is making me even more scared.
I want to call Elizabeth, but I know talking to her will only make me more nervous, so I do not. I have to do this alone.
Despite waiting to hear from this mystery person. I am surprised when I get an email.
To: valdezemily904@gmail.com
From: CColton@gamil.com
Ms. Valdez,
I have seen your profile and am interested in your services as a surrogate. I have an offer for you, and I hope that you accept my invitation to discuss this. Below is the address where we should meet, along with my phone number in case you need it. We can meet at noon tomorrow-hope to see you
-Colton
His phone number is attached to the email just like he said, but when I look at the meeting location, I notice there is an apartment number in the address. Oh god- we are going to meet in his place. This makes everything even shadier. What if this is all fake and he wants to hurt me?
He has to have a wife, Emily, I think, shaking my head. I need to calm down. If he wants a baby, he has a wife. Either way, there is nothing I can do about it now. I need to think. Alone.
When I get home, Peter is in the living room watching a basketball game and eating pizza. "Want some?" he asks taking a bite.
"Yeah," I say, taking a deep breath and sitting on the couch. I reach for a slice of pizza. "I'm exhausted."
"Yeah, you don't look so good."
"Thanks…"
He smiles. "I don't know how you do it-you are always on top of everything. I'm jealous."
"Well, apparently it comes with a price. Looking horrible," joke.
"Whatever. Being pretty won't solve my problems." My smile fades as I realize the truth of my words. Being pretty will not solve my problems but money will. Even though the email makes me uneasy, the money is too good to pass up.
I watch the game with Peter for a few minutes before excusing myself and going to my room. I do not sleep that night, both because of the whole surrogate situation and piles of homework.
The next day, I take a taxi to an address about twenty minutes away from school. The taxi driver stops outside some really fancy looking apartments; it is a tall black building with beautiful blown glass windows and each unit has their own little patio. I pay the driver and get out of the car, entering the high-rise building and taking a deep breath as I step on the elevator, headed for apartment 533.
A couple gets on with me and I stand awkwardly in the corner as they make out. Even making out, they are still so fancy-they make me feel undressed. They are laughing and murmuring things to each other, hardly detaching their faces to breath. Is this what his couple I am meeting is going to be like? Ugh, I hope not.
The elevator dings on the fifth floor and I sigh in relief as I exit, leaving the couple behind. The hallway in front of me is long, endless, with beautiful carpet. When I reach the right apartment, I stop and stare at the door for a second. I can still walk away; I can still change my mid.
I sigh- it is not like I am getting pregnant today. I am going to walk in, listen to what this Colton has to say, and leave. That is all. I raise my hand and knock.
The man who opens the door takes my breath away.