Chapter 37
Thirty-Seven
Either Minder Jane had been grateful for the break from me, had expected me to skip my shift after my test, or Hilary had let her know I wasn’t in a good place, because no one came looking for me. Which I was thankful for.
I spent the day in my room, hiding. The news that I was going to be inseminated again in just a few weeks had made me lose my appetite, and I didn’t even care that I missed breakfast, then lunch, then dinner.
All I wanted to do was lie in bed and cry, which was how I spent the whole day.
I was so emotionally exhausted by the time night came that I couldn’t wait for sleep.
I woke the next morning with a growling stomach and a new determination to show Hilary and all the other minders just how strong I was. They couldn’t best me. No one could.
A knock sounded just as I was about to head out, and I opened the door to a very exhausted looking Bette. The circles under her eyes and lack of smile were quite possibly the only things that could have distracted me from my own problems. She looked awful.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m in hell,” she said, her twang more pronounced than usual. “I can’t sleep because I’m having contractions all night, but the doctor keeps telling me I’m not in active labor even though I’m dilated two centimeters. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”
She was still two weeks from delivery and already two centimeters but not in labor? I had no idea such a thing was possible.
Trying to stay positive, I said, “It has to happen soon.”
“Not soon enough.” Bette slumped against the doorframe. “I’m beat, Ara. I don’t know how I’m going to get through labor when I can’t even sleep.”
For a second, I was at a loss as to what to do, but seeing the tears in her eyes, I reacted without thinking and threw my arms around her. “I’m so sorry, Bette.”
She sniffed. “I’m being a baby, I know, but it wasn’t this hard last time. I wasn’t this uncomfortable, and I was actually able to sleep. I’m starting to understand how zombies feel.”
I let out a bitter laugh as I pulled back. “That’s not the kind of apocalypse we’re in, but I get what you’re saying.”
“You know what I mean,” Bette said, rolling her eyes.
She looked at her wristband and her mouth scrunched up. “We should go eat. Minder Hilary has been on my ass about every meal. She just can’t get it through her head that I don’t have any room in my body for food. Seriously, I think I might end up hitting that woman!”
I laughed for real as we started down the hall. “Can I watch?”
“I’ll sell tickets,” Bette grumbled.
To my surprise, and annoyance, Marc was in the dining room when Bette and I arrived. Since he rarely worked there, I could only assume he’d wanted to check on me. The intense way he watched me confirmed my suspicion.
Having his eyes on me was so unnerving that I couldn’t concentrate on a single thing Bette or Malika – who had for some reason decided to join us – were saying until the latter exclaimed, “Well, I guess I should share the news with everyone before group since Hilary is sure to spill the beans. As of yesterday, I’m ten weeks pregnant. ”
Bette’s eyes widened but she said nothing. I was pretty sure she didn’t know what to say, which was understandable since she and Malika weren’t on the best terms. I, on the other hand, knew exactly how to respond.
“To getting the hell out of this program,” I said, lifting my water glass.
Malika’s upper lip curled, but she lifted her own cup, clinked it against mine and said, “And to telling them all to go to hell.”
“We should have toasted to them actually going to hell,” I replied, “but that sounds nice, too.”
Malika smirked.
We talked about anything but pregnancy the rest of breakfast. Malika because she didn’t want to think about it and Bette because she was trying to focus on anything but how uncomfortable she felt.
It made for awkward conversation because Malika was still mostly a stranger to us.
She sat with us, traded derisive looks with me, and wasn’t unfriendly, but I got the impression she didn’t want to form connections.
I understood. Most of us wanted this part of our lives to be erased from our memories as soon as it was finished.
Marc watched me the whole time. Seeing him in the dining room when I first stepped in had thrown me, but having him staring at me made it nearly impossible to act normal.
It didn’t end when breakfast was over, either, because he was still there while I helped clean up.
Still watching. Still getting under my skin.
I was so unnerved that even Vic felt the need to bring it up.
“What’s going on with you?” they asked as we collected piles of dirty dishes. “You’re as jumpy as a grasshopper.”
I tried to shrug the comment off even though I could feel Marc’s gaze boring into the back of my head. “It’s just been a shitty couple days. You know.”
“More like a shitty couple weeks,” Vic retorted. “And I get it. I mean, you weren’t here yesterday, so I assumed there’s been some development.”
“Not yet.” I looked around – avoiding Marc – then in a low voice said, “The test was negative, but my minder told me the three-month reprieve has been waived.”
Vic didn’t so much as blink when I delivered the news.
“You knew,” I said accusingly.
“Not for sure, but I assumed.” They hefted a big stack of dirty dishes out of the bin. “And to be honest, I’m okay with it. Get it over with is what I say. Then I can get the hell out of here.”
When Vic headed for the kitchen, I grabbed my own stack and hurried after. “But aren’t you worried about what else they’ll do?”
Vic eyed me. “What else can they do? I’ll have served my time.”
“But they can change anything. I mean anything.”
We set our stacks down when we reached the kitchen, and Vic turned to face me. “What are you getting at?”
“What if,” I began in a hushed tone, “the Department of Fertility decides we have to serve longer?”
Vic absorbed this for a few seconds before saying, “You mean have more than one baby.”
“Exactly.”
They shook their head, but it was slow and unsure. “They wouldn’t do that.”
“I wouldn’t put anything past the Department of Fertility.”
Vic looked unsettled but shook their head again. “No. It’s not possible. I don’t believe it.”
Then, as if wanting to put an end to the conversation, they turned their back on me.
We worked the rest of the shift in silence, which was fine with me since I was no longer thinking about what the Department of Fertility was going to do but instead about what Marc wanted.
With the way he was staring at me, I knew it was no coincidence he was here.
He’d planned it. Had wanted to see me. But did that mean he’d changed his mind? I didn’t want to get my hopes up.
When we finished cleaning up, Vic hurried from the kitchen without telling me goodbye, but I dragged my feet. I didn’t know why, but I had a feeling Marc was going to seek me out.
I was right, and after everyone else had wandered from the kitchen, he appeared in the doorway, looked me over, and in a quiet voice asked, “Are you okay?”
“As good as can be expected.” I tossed the towel I’d been holding onto the counter.
“Are you…” His gaze moved to my stomach, then back to my face.
“No.” I crossed my arms. “I’m not.”
“But you were crying.”
I exhaled, already tired of being angry but knowing I wouldn’t be able to avoid it. I needed to talk about this with someone who wasn’t in the program, and since Trevor was out of the question, Marc was the next best thing.
“There have been changes in the program,” I began, then, as if I had a severe case of verbal diarrhea, launched into an explanation.
Marc listened attentively, his expression first sympathetic then concerned as I relayed my fears about what the Department of Fertility had in store for me.
He didn’t act like he thought the things I was saying were crazy or far-fetched, which was oddly comforting.
It was nice to have someone on my side. I was sick of denial.
Sick of people pretending the contract we’d signed had any real legal bearing.
It didn’t. Not for the Department of Fertility, anyway.
When I was done, Marc swore. “Shit, Ara. I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” I hugged myself tighter.
He hesitated but only for a second before saying, “And I’m sorry for what happened the last time we were together. It was stupid and reckless, and I shouldn’t have done it.”
Anger flared through me, but for once it wasn’t aimed at anyone associated with the Department of Fertility. It was aimed at him.
“I’m not sorry. Do you know why? Because every part of my life has been commandeered by the Department of Fertility, and I’m sick of not having anything for myself.
And maybe, just maybe, I think you’re worth the risk.
No, I take that back. We’re worth the risk, and I want to take it.
Why? Because I deserve to have something in my life that’s mine.
That’s up to me. Even if it gets me locked up, I won’t regret it. I can’t.”
I was breathing heavily when I stopped talking, and my fists were clenched at my sides.
Marc was quiet, but I could tell he was mulling over what I’d said, and I could also tell that part of him felt the same way. Which was why I was ready when he crossed the room, pulled me into his arms, and kissed me.
It was better than the first time. Deeper.
Longer. More intense. Every move of his lips made my body tremble, and every brush of his hands made my heart beat faster.
He held my face then moved his hands down.
To my shoulders, my arms, then up so they were around me.
One was on my upper back and the other my waist. He gripped my ass and pulled me closer, and I clung to him as we kissed, our mouths insistent and needy and urgent.
We were taking a risk, but like I’d said, I didn’t care. I wanted this, wanted him. Wanted more.