We had an off-site photo shoot and I didn’t have to be at the restaurant we were featuring until ten. At nine o’clock I rang Kate’s doorbell, nervously tapping the toes on one foot as I mentally rehearsed how I was going to justify what I was planning to do.
I could tell she wasn’t feeling well when she opened the door, even though she was smiling. Her eyes were dull and her face pale.
“Thank God,” she said, kissing my cheek and taking the tray of coffees from my hands. “I really do need to set that timer. David usually makes the coffee, but he didn’t get a chance this morning.” She smelled like peanut butter and tea tree oil, which I knew she used on the girls’ hair every morning before school, claiming it had kept them lice-free even during the school’s inevitable outbreaks.
“How’s the migraine?” I asked, following her into the living room. I sat on the couch beside her and tucked my legs under me. She took a sip of the latte and closed her eyes. “So much better now. Thank you for this.” Then she opened her eyes and looked at me in a way that made me even more nervous, her deep brown eyes holding steady on my face. “Out with it, Hannah. What’s up?”
I cleared my throat, shifting to grab my own coffee. “So I’ve done something... Something I probably shouldn’t have. No, definitely shouldn’t have.”
“What have you done?” Kate asked slowly, as though she was giving both of us time to prepare for whatever it was.
It all came out in a rush. “I emailed a surrogate even though I told Ben I wouldn’t, and now she wants to meet, like tomorrow, and I said I’d meet her and I didn’t tell Ben and I’m not sure I want to because I know he’s going to lose it and she’s asking for forty grand to do this and she’s really religious and we’re not and she wants to have a relationship with the baby after it’s born but I really want to meet her. I think. I’m pretty sure—”
“Stop talking,” Kate said, and so I did. She casually took a long sip of her coffee and then got up. “This calls for chocolate.” A moment later she was back, a huge dark chocolate bar on the coffee table in front of us. Kate popped a piece of the chocolate in her mouth and sucked on it, melting it on her tongue. I didn’t bother reminding her chocolate was one of her headache triggers.
“First of all, I have to say I’m sort of impressed. I mean, going on a secret surrogate-hunting mission? That is a very un-Hannah-like move.”
I squirmed, knowing she was trying to make me laugh but feeling worse by the second. “I didn’t mean for it to be a secret, I just... I don’t know. I just did it before I could think too hard about what I was doing.”
Kate nodded, looking at me thoughtfully. “Who is this person?” she asked, snapping off another square of chocolate.
“Her name is Lyla. She’s a mom, married and healthy, and she wants to be a surrogate. My—our—surrogate.”
Kate narrowed her eyes. “How did you find her?”
“A classified ad.” I tried not to cringe, hearing how it sounded. I mean, you went to the classifieds to find a dining room table or tickets to a sold-out concert, not for a woman to carry a baby for you.
Kate paused, the chocolate square partway to her lips. “You’re kidding me.”
“Nope, not kidding.”
“And you’re sharing this with me instead of Ben because...?”
“Because I needed to tell someone who was going to be on my side,” I said, my voice dropping. The sweetness of the chocolate locked up my throat and I coughed hard a few times.
Kate rubbed my back. “Oh, honey. Ben is always on your side.”
I shook my head. “Not this time, Katie. Sure, he humored me and went through the ads with me, but I know he doesn’t want to do this. He thinks it’s... He wants to try adoption.”
Kate took my hands in hers and gently tugged on them until I looked at her. “And you don’t?”
“I’m not sure what I want anymore,” I replied. “No, that’s not true. I know exactly what I want.”
Kate squeezed my fingers. “You want a baby.”
I nodded. “A baby. And when I read through Lyla’s ad, something just... I don’t know, something just told me to email her. I didn’t even consider what I’d do if she responded back.”
“When are you going to tell Ben?”
“After I meet with her? I mean, maybe once I see her, talk to her, I’ll be sure it’s not the right thing to do.” I looked at Kate, then looked away quickly when I saw her face—she was right, of course. I had to tell Ben.
“Besides, you can’t go alone. What if she’s nuts? Has some kind of weird secret agenda, like pretending to be pregnant so she can get your money and then take off?” I didn’t want to admit that very thought had crossed my mind more than once.
“You’re right. This is a bad idea. Sorry, I just—”
“You just want to be a mom,” Kate said, holding my hands tighter. “Listen, I still think you should talk to Ben before you go meet any sort of potential baby mama, but if you really want to go through with this first, I’ll come with you. I don’t want you going by yourself.”
“Thank you. But... I should never have sent that email. I can’t shut Ben out of this, no matter how much easier it might be.” Kate gave me a small, sad smile. “I’m going to cancel.” My phone’s alarm went off. “Gotta run. I need to be at the restaurant by ten.”
I stood and hugged Kate tightly. “Thanks for talking me off the ledge.”
“Thanks for the latte. I needed it. You gonna be okay?”
I nodded. “Fine. You know me—I’m not a quitter.”
“No,” Kate said, shaking her head. “You are not.”
“Let me know if you need a hand with the girls after school, okay? You can put your feet up and I can make dinner.”
“Deal,” Kate said. A minute later I was waving at Kate as she stood in her doorway, heading toward the BART station. Fifteen minutes later while I waited for my train, I pulled out my phone and checked my messages. One from Ben, wanting to take me out for dinner tomorrow night; one from my mom, making sure I wouldn’t forget to call my uncle George after his gallbladder surgery; and another one from Lyla, confirming our meeting the next afternoon. Ignoring the messages from Ben and my mom for the moment, I hit Reply and told Lyla I’d see her there and was looking forward to it, then got on the train trying not to feel guilty about lying to everyone.
HANNAH
As I stood in the coffee line, secretly observing Lyla—who was engrossed in something on her phone—all I could think about was how tiny she was, her hips narrow and legs so short her feet only just grazed the floor when she was sitting down. I had good hips for pregnancy—wide and sturdy. I was also, at five-eight, on the tall side for a woman and
