Mr. Franklin walked off toward his office, Carmella couldn’t help but wonder what he wanted with her. He had said she wasn’t in any trouble, so that was a relief. But whatever could he want? Although he had been administrator there for some time, she hadn’t really had much contact with him for the most part, other than occasionally seeing him around in the halls. He was a handsome man, at least to her. She guessed he was in his mid-thirties, and she recalled him mentioning that he had graduated from the University of North Texas with a master’s degree in Healthcare Administration prior to joining Shadyside. As young and pleasant as he was, she suspected that this was his first administrative position, but she wasn’t sure of that. He knew that she was studying to be an RN, because he had asked her about her career plans when they had first met. Maybe the nursing home had come up with some sort of financial assistance program he wanted to discuss with her—that would be nice! She was tired of struggling to make ends meet. Oh well, guess I’ll find out soon enough, she thought to herself as she continued helping the residents with their dinner.
*****
It was 6:40 when Carmella next looked down at her watch. She hadn’t stopped since Gabriel had left, and was just now finishing with the dining room cleanup. “Oh no!” she shrieked as she realized the time. “If I wadn’t in trouble before, I prob’ly am now,” she mumbled, grabbing her purse and quickly touching up her hair and makeup. Gotta look my best, at least, she thought as she headed down the hall to his office.
Gabriel had been nervously fidgeting and pacing in his office since his conversation with Carmella, now an hour and a half ago. This is probably a really bad idea, he thought to himself. But…Carmella is so cute and smart, and who knows what I might end up with otherwise! She could use the money, too, I’m sure. I don’t know…this is really risky. I don’t have any better options, though. I’ll at least talk with her about it. Ummm, maybe not. What if she tells someone? I’d be out on my ear for sure. Maybe I shouldn’t. It’s 6:40 already…where is she?
Just then, his vicissitudes were interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. “Mr. Gabe, you in there? Sorry I’m late!” came Carmella’s voice from the hallway.
Looking a little nonplused as he opened the door, Gabriel quietly ushered her in, quickly closing the door behind her. “Thanks for coming, Carmella. I was hoping that you would.”
“Why Mr. Gabe, when you tell Carmella to come, you know she gonna be here. Sorry I’m a little late…just got busy in the dinin’ room there for a while. What is it you want to talk to me ’bout?” Carmella was dying with curiosity at this point, and needed some resolution to the uncertainty that he had created earlier that afternoon.
“Well, Carmella, this is extremely difficult for me to discuss. Can you promise me that you will keep this conversation to yourself and no one else? I could lose my job in a heartbeat if this were to get out. Can you help me out here, or would you rather not?”
Carmella was really puzzled at this point. “Mr. Gabe, I don’t much know what you goin’ to say to me, but ’less it would cause harm to someone, I’m sure I could keep a secret. You ain’t gonna ask me to blow up the president or nothin’ like that, are you?” she queried with a smile and a hint of a tease.
“Oh no, nothing like that! Just something very personal that I wouldn’t want to go beyond you and me.” There, he had given her a hint. Now he would watch her response carefully to determine if he should proceed or abort the mission.
Carmella mulled that over for a moment, then smiled coyly and asked, “You wantin’ to have sex with me or somethin’ like that, Mr. Gabe?”
If his skin wasn’t brown, Gabriel would have turned an embarrassing shade of red with her unexpected directness. He quickly stammered back, “Oh no, Ms. Brown, at least not in the way you’re thinking, I mean.”
Now it was Carmella’s turn for pause. This was just too bizarre. “Not in the way I’m thinkin’? I didn’ know there was but one way to have sex. Wait a minute…you not wantin’ to put it somewhere it don’t belong, now are you, Mr. Gabe?” Carmella replied, eyes widening. If HER skin wasn’t brown, she would have paled considerably with that remark. “I’m really gonna have to go if that’s what’s on yo’ mind!”
Oh my god, Gabriel thought, this has gone from bad to worse! Embarrassing to humiliating! “Absolutely not, Ms. Brown. Please just take a minute to hear me out. We have gotten way offtrack here. Let me back up and start again!”
As long as you stay away from my backside, I guess that’s fine, Carmella thought, keeping her back to the door and contemplating a quick escape should the need arise.
“You see, Ms. Brown, this is very personal and difficult for me to talk about. It might be easier if I gave you a little history regarding my predicament. As you probably know, my wife’s name is Tamika, and we have been married for seven years now. All that time I have wanted to have a family, and so has she, but try as we might, nothing seemed to be happening—no pregnancies, no babies. Finally, about a year ago, we went to an infertility specialist, who checked us both out and discovered that Tamika has some sort of scar tissue that I can’t remember the name of right now that was affecting a part of her reproductive tract. Anyway, I checked out fine, but at least according to that doctor, Tamika would never be able to have any children. Well, as you can imagine, we were both devastated by that news. Tamika has been depressed about it ever since, and now has gotten to where she doesn’t even want to have sex anymore. My eldest and only brother was a missionary, but died a couple of years ago in some sort of uprising in Somalia where he was working. Neither of my sisters are interested in having children, so it’s kind of up to me to carry on the Franklin family heritage. So you can imagine how disappointed I was to learn of my wife’s inability to have children. We have talked some about adopting, but that seems to be quite expensive and, for me at least, also doesn’t solve the issue of the Franklin family heritage. I guess it’s an ego thing with me, but I really don’t want be the one who broke up the family lineage. So what I wanted to discuss with you—and this is the really awkward part—is that I have been looking around for a surrogate mother; you know, someone who’ll carry my baby and then turn it over to my wife and myself to raise. I haven’t really discussed this option with my wife, as she already feels badly enough about herself, and the thought of me impregnating another woman would most likely send her over the edge. I was thinking I could do it without anyone knowing about it, then tell her I had found someone who was pregnant and wanted to give the baby up for adoption. As long as she didn’t find out the particulars, it would be a win for everybody. Since you came to work here last year, I’ve kind of had my eye on you as a potential candidate, and it’s taken me all this time just to work up the nerve to discuss the possibility with you. Obviously, if you were to tell anyone about what I’ve just shared with you, it would have devastating consequences for me—I’m sure I would lose my job and, most likely, my wife too. It’s just really important to me to carry on my family genes, so that’s what has finally given me the courage to talk with you. I find you to be a bright and attractive young woman and think our offspring would be a really fabulous person, be it boy or girl. I’m wishing for a boy, obviously, as that would fulfill my duty to carry on the family name. So, hopefully you can see that I really had no perverted intent, like our conversation seemed to be indicating, and I’m very sorry if I have offended you.”
Carmella’s head was spinning with all this totally unexpected revelation from Mr. Franklin. Nothing much actually surprised her about men, but she had to admit that he certainly had. She really was so stunned that she couldn’t manage to even get her thoughts together. Finally, she managed to stammer, “Mr. F-Franklin, I really need to s-s-sit down. That ok with you?”
“Absolutely. I’m really sorry for dumping all that on you with no warning, but you were misinterpreting my initial efforts to
