Chapter 9 #2
I left the other applicant files in the interview room with Talia.
My pulse picked up as I hurried back there, heels clicking faster than before.
When I reentered the area, Talia was still sitting calmly, and the folders remained on the table exactly where I left them, appearing untouched.
Thank God.
Talia looked up immediately, concern softening her expression. “Is everything okay?”
I retook my seat. “Yeah… I think it was that smoothie I drank earlier.”
I chuckled lightly while discreetly pulling the folders closer to me again.
“I’m a little lactose intolerant. I keep playing with dairy like my stomach doesn’t humble me every single time. But I’ll be fine. Thanks for asking.”
I let out a small breath.
“Now… where were we?”
My eyes skimmed over the interview questions, mentally retracing where the conversation had left off before the interruption. After a brief moment, I clicked my pen once and looked back up at Talia with regained composure.
“Do you drink alcohol, smoke, or use recreational drugs?” I questioned, keeping my tone neutral while I reviewed her paperwork.
“Oh no!” she responded promptly.
I eyed her dubiously. “Never? Not even occasionally?”
“Okay, socially? Sure. A girls’ night, birthdays, New Year’s Eve… Cinco de Mayo if the margaritas look convincing enough.” She waved a hand lightly. “But drugs? Absolutely not. I can barely survive cold medicine.”
I arched a brow, silently encouraging her to continue.
“I took NyQuil once, and let’s just say… it had me texting people I probably shouldn’t have been in contact with.”
“Noted,” I said dryly, making another mark in the file. “Now, let’s shift gears. Are you currently employed?”
Talia hesitated, her eyes drifting as she considered her words. “Not officially,” she finally responded, a note of embarrassment creeping into her tone.
“What does that mean exactly?” I asked, curious about her circumstances.
“It means that I’m in a sort of ‘figuring it out’ phase of my life,” she admitted, her voice tinged with vulnerability.
I leaned back slightly, processing her words. “And you believe that surrogacy could provide the stability you’re seeking?”
“I truly think it would help me breathe again,” she answered, her voice steadier now, revealing her honesty. “I’m so tired of living month to month. It feels like I’m always just one emergency away from drowning.”
Her candidness struck a chord with me.
That answer sounded more genuine than rehearsed, which immediately made me pay closer attention.
I lightly tapped my pen against the folder. “How do you anticipate your lifestyle would change during a pregnancy?”
“I’m sure it would change completely. I would take it seriously, though. I’d focus on eating right, spending more time at home, and rest when I need to. I know it wouldn’t just be about me anymore. I know that someone would be trusting me with something incredibly important.”
That answer sat in the room a little longer than the others.
“Would you be comfortable with routine medical monitoring, scheduled evaluations, dietary restrictions, as well as signing a confidentiality agreement?” I inquired, wanting to ensure she understood the seriousness of the commitment.
“Absolutely. Whatever’s required.”
I shifted topics, wanting to delve deeper into her mental health. “Do you have any history of mental illness or medication use?”
Talia hesitated, letting out a short laugh that didn’t quite fit the moment. “Ha! I mean, who doesn’t feel like they’re losing it sometimes, right? Life will literally test you!”
I offered a tight smile that made it clear I wasn’t amused. “Is that the answer you’d like documented?”
The humor left her face almost immediately.
“No diagnoses. And no history of medication either,” she clarified more cautiously that time.
I held her gaze for another second before moving on. “Why do you want to do this?”
A noticeable shift took place in Talia's expression.
The playful energy she’d carried through most of the interview softened, replaced by something quieter… more honest.
“Because I’m tired of struggling... tired of pretending that everything is fine even when it gets hard sometimes.
And yes, the money matters. I’m not going to sit here and pretend it doesn’t.
But I also think… maybe helping someone else build a family could ultimately mean something more profound too. ”
I nodded. “How do you handle emotional attachment? Some surrogates struggle to separate themselves emotionally from the pregnancy,” I asked, trying to tread lightly on the subject.
“I’m sure I’ll be able to handle it. I’ll understand the baby wouldn’t be mine.”
I leaned back slightly, deciding to push a little further, needing clarity. “After the birth, there would be complete separation. No visits, no photos, no updates, and no continued contact with the child whatsoever. Would that be a problem for you?”
Talia’s smile faded just a touch. “No. I’d respect it,” she replied carefully, though something beneath her tone suggested the reality of that would hit harder than she wanted it to.
“Even if it hurt?” I pressed, fully aware of how important that answer was.
Talia paused for a moment, visibly collecting her thoughts before responding.
“I’d deal with it privately,” she admitted finally, her voice quieter but honest. “Not everything painful needs to become somebody else’s burden.”
That answer lingered with me for a second longer than I expected.
I clicked my pen once against the folder before moving on.
“Last question. Why should we choose you? What makes you stand out from the other applicants?”
Talia sat quietly for a second before giving a small shrug.
“Well… I don’t know the other women, so I can’t sit here and pretend I’m better than them.
For all I know, one of them could be richer, smarter, prettier, or come with less baggage.
But I will say desperate people usually do one of two things when life gets hard: they either break or they adapt.
I’ve always adapted. I know how to survive uncomfortable situations without making them harder than they need to be, I know how to keep my word, and when I commit to something, I don’t halfway do it just because life gets inconvenient.
A lot of people want opportunities, but very few people know how to handle them once they finally arrive. I do.”