TaylorMy cell phone buzzes as I approach the girls near the meat case. I look at my text.Jorge: at the lake yet?Me: shopping with your sisJorge: careful she’s used to feeding toddlersMe: I’m in charge of alcoholJorge: smart choiceMe: what you up to?Jorge: workingJorge: on breakMe: weekend’s gonna suckJorge: hair down have some fun“Tell him I say hi,” Martha says, bumping my shoulder, startling me.My eyes dart from my phone to meet two very prying sets of eyes. I attempt to brush it off as nothing important.“Don’t put your phone away,” Reagan pleads.“We won’t pry,” Martha states. “Jorge needs you.” I stare at Martha in fear. Jorge and I are friends, nothing more. We are honest with each other. We keep in touch, but we have moved on. He’s attempting to win Rosalynn back, and I’m helping my friends have a baby. My phone vibrates repeatedly in my back pocket, as Reagan and Martha excuse themselves to allow me to continue our conversation.Jorge: you need fun before you get
TaylorSaturday morning, I sit up slowly from my air mattress. Rising from its edge, I sway on my feet. I steady myself, hands on the wall. Carefully, I slowly stride down the hall to the restroom, where I brush my teeth, wash my face, and brush my hair. Still feeling dizzy, I attempt blowing my nose, then yawning to pop my ears. I try the remedies that usually give me relief with no success.I lightly pad my way downstairs to the kitchen. I place two slices of bread into the toaster, while I find butter, jelly, fruit, yogurt, and a Diet Pepsi. Sitting at the breakfast bar, I nibble on my breakfast while I scan my social media accounts. Deep in thought, I do not hear Kennedy approach. I jump when she touches my shoulder.“Sorry,” she apologizes. “Anything interesting on Instagram?”I shut my phone, placing it on the counter next to me. The toast filled me up, so I slide my fruit and yogurt Kennedy’s way.“I heard a noise in Reagan’s room and Jackson is also up,” Kennedy tells me. “Won’
TaylorToo many people move about the kitchen, so I select a seat at the table until it’s my turn to fix a plate. Jackson and James join me.“Is the lake too busy now for skiing today? Should we do it first thing tomorrow morning?” James asks.“There are plenty of coves to ski in if the center of the lake is too crowded,” Jackson states. “We go home tomorrow, so we need to ski this afternoon and again in the morning.”“Can you show me how you slalom?” James asks.“I’ll show you on the dock, then ski first this afternoon to demonstrate,” Jackson promises.As we take turns fixing our plates, I choose small portions and nibble slowly to calm my stomach. I feel Jackson’s watchful eyes on me throughout the meal. I avoid looking his way. Kennedy and Jackson are overprotective. They seem to forget I’m an adult, and I can take care of my motion sickness on my own. I rise, plate in hand, walking to the kitchen for more cheese and crackers. I grab a bottle of ginger ale from the refrigerator, th
TaylorOn Sunday our last day at the lake, I awake queasy as I have been since we left home. I slowly sit up, swing my legs over the side of the air mattress, then make my way to the hallway bathroom. I splash water on my face, while avoiding my reflection in the mirror. How has anyone not mentioned my flush face and neck this weekend? I take a Dramamine with a quick sip of water from the sink. I place the tiny bottle in my pocket, so I can take another if needed.“Good morning,” I greet Kennedy in the hallway. I block her path toward the stairs. “Are we okay?” Her eyes widen, her smile seems forced. “Last night, what was that about?” I need information; I want information. She is not escaping until I understand.“I’m not sure what you are talking about. Last night is a bit of a blur.” Kennedy speaks, but her eyes don’t convey the same emotion as her words. “I drank all day. I have a killer headache today. Don’t you?”“I didn’t drink much yesterday, due to the meds,” I remind her.“Wha
TaylorJust like any other day, I wake on Monday to a quiet house. I enjoy a light breakfast, complete cleaning tasks, then shower and prepare for my 11:45 doctor’s appointment. With an hour before I need to leave, I print off a new calendar for the refrigerator and a temperature tracking calendar for my room. Then, I save the old calendars in my top dresser drawer.I opt to stand as I wait for the doctor to enter my exam room. Already weighed, left a urine sample, and had my vitals recorded by a nurse, this should be a quick visit. We just need a new script of Clomid and to follow the same steps as the month before.Soon, the doctor enters, tablet in hand. He greets me. “How have you been feeling?” he asks.“We followed all the steps, and we think we’re ready to repeat them again this month,” I answer.He lays the tablet on the counter, looks me in the eye, and states, “That won’t be necessary.”I’m confused. I rack my brain for our conversation from the last visit. I’m sure we discus
BOOK THREE: THE CONFESSIONTaylorKennedy raps on my door before entering to place saltines and a glass of tepid water on my nightstand.Jackson peeks his head in, reminding me, “Text either of us if you need anything while we’re at work today.”I decide I’ll need to nip this over-protective hovering in the butt tonight.Kennedy texts me four times prior to noon. Jackson texts three times before 4:00. I’m happy they’re excited to be pregnant, but I can see why so many women and couples wait until the second trimester to announce a pregnancy.Surrogacy Journal Entry-Tuesday, August 23rd I am officially off the sauce. Of course, that means no more alcohol, but I’m referring to quitting Diet Pepsi cold turkey. No caffeine sucks big time. I realize it’s what is best for the baby and healthier for me, too. My new pregnancy diet feels like a metal chastity belt. Speaking of chastity belt, I am officially knocked up and won’t be having sex for the next 44 weeks. Pregnant for 38 weeks, then a
Taylor“Taylor, look at me,” she sternly directs, taking each of my hands in hers. “Deep breaths in-and-out through your nose. In-and-out slowly. Good. In-and-out. Perfect.” She releases my hands and excuses herself to fetch me water with a cold cloth from her private bathroom. “You are frustrated, and the hormones aren’t helping.” She pats my knee before returning to her seat. “I left the door open.” she motions to the restroom. “Feel free to use it anytime during our sessions.” The doctor jots quickly on her notepad. “We’ve made progress. Today, we found the triggers. We are closer to understanding these flashes.” Her smile seems forced. Looking at my journal, she continues, “Kennedy seems unaware of your reaction to the flashes when they occur.”It’s a statement and a question. I simply nod.“Twice you wrote, Jackson noticed your discomfort. When you return to the common areas, does he approach you?” It seems the good doctor is reading my notes thoroughly now.“He disappears for fif
TaylorFriday afternoon, I make my way one more time through the entire house before tonight’s party. Kennedy and Jackson did most of the heavy cleaning on Thursday evening. They insisted I only dust, unload the dishwasher and take it easy. My fatigue makes it hard for me to argue with them. Today, I spray air freshener, straighten vanities, and prep the kitchen for company. The activity taking its toll, I cuddle up on the sofa for a movie and a nap. I need energy well past my ten o’clock bedtime. Turning in early is my new-norm. As I stare unseeing at the television, I realize my exhaustion is much higher than I expected. I set an alarm on my phone to ensure I wake early enough to get dolled up for the guests. Normally, I don’t worry about impressing anyone, however, tonight I am at the center of the party. All eyes will be on pregnant Taylor and her non-existent baby bump.I startle at the cellphone alarm over two hours later. Once silenced, I slowly rise to a seated position. Mornin