The Surrogate Girlfriend

Five

It was the day for the tests and insemination. I was profoundly nervous. Mr. Leonard had come to pick me up, and our drive to the hospital was filled with silence. I was too busy trying to keep myself together to make conversation.

When we arrived, the doctor led me to the lab, but I insisted on going alone. I needed some privacy. Thankfully, the doctor was a woman. She ran a few tests, all of which were normal. But suddenly, I felt something uncomfortable, a sharp push deep inside me. I flinched, instinctively closing my legs together.

She looked up at me, her eyes wide with surprise. “Are you a virgin?” My heart skipped a beat.

“No,” I lied, but her raised eyebrow told me she didn’t believe it.

“You are a virgin,” she said firmly. Before I could protest, she continued, “Does Leonard know about this?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but she cut me off again. “You see, a surrogate is supposed to show proof of a previous pregnancy.  It shows you are fit for this. So, according to the surrogacy guidelines, you’re not really supposed to be a surrogate.”

Panic gripped my chest. Did Mr. Leonard, know about this? Would this cost me the contract? Was i going to lose everything? I really couldn’t lose this.

“But I guess your case is an exception," she then said, making me feel a little at ease. "Since you will be donating your own eggs," she said.

Her eyes softened with sympathy, and she moved closer, sitting beside me. “I will tell you a little secret. This is going to be a bit hard for you, seeing as you are without any experience." I stared at my hands, unable to speak.

“You should also help yourself. if you want childbirth to be less painful, you’ll need to… well, you’ll need to have sex,” she added awkwardly. My face burned with embarrassment.

“Don’t be shy,” she said kindly. “Just do it after we’ve confirmed you’re pregnant. It’ll help.”

I nodded, unsure of what else to say. “Thank you,” I whispered.

She smiled softly. “I’ll see you in two weeks. Hopefully, you’ll be pregnant by then.”

The ride back home was as silent as the trip there. I stared out of the window, lost in thought for the first time since this all began. What had I gotten myself into? What would happen when I gave birth? What if I developed feelings for the baby and didn’t want to give it up? But deep down, I knew I couldn’t afford that luxury.

When we arrived at the house, Leonard followed me inside. I was mentally and emotionally drained, and I collapsed onto the sofa.

“Are you okay?” His voice cut through the silence, and I turned to look at him.

“I’m fine,” I muttered, trying to brush off his concern. “You don’t need to worry about me yet.”

“I care about my workers, Miss Eva,” he said, and the word stung more than I expected.

“Workers? Is that what I am?” I knew I was, technically, but hearing it aloud felt strange.

“You’re doing a job for me, so yes,” he replied matter-of-factly, still standing in place.

“Why are you even doing this?” I blurted out, curiosity getting the better of me. “You could get any woman you want, get her pregnant without having to spend all this money. Why go through all this trouble?”

He looked at me, his face still as unreadable as ever. “That’s none of your business, Miss Eva.”

I rolled my eyes, standing up and walking toward the minibar. “You’re right. It’s not,” I said, grabbing a bottle of wine and a glass.

“You can’t drink that,” he said sharply, suddenly appearing beside me and taking the wine from my hand.

“Relax. I’m not pregnant yet,” I replied, sitting on one of the barstools. He was so intense.

“You will be soon, Miss Eva,” he said, his tone as serious as ever. I looked at him, really looked at him for the first time. He was undeniably handsome, but that only brought back the same nagging question, why this? And why did he always have such a blank, emotionless expression?

“Don’t you ever get tired?” I asked out of nowhere.

“Excuse me?” he replied, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“Why do you keep that stiff face all the time?” I knew it wasn’t my business, but I couldn’t help myself.

“I’ll be on my way now, Miss Eva,” he said coldly. Ouch. “If you need anything, call me,” he added before turning and walking out the door. I watched him leave, and as soon as he was gone, the loneliness crept back in.

I pulled out my phone and stared at the wallpaper, an old selfie of me and Kelvin. My heart ached at the sight of his face.

Was he thinking about me? Did he miss me the way I missed him?

I clicked on his name and started typing: 
'Please come back to me. I can't stop thinking about you.'

I stared at the message for a long time before erasing it. Instead, I typed: 
'I miss you.'

And sent it.