Chapter 44
Forty-Four
Two days passed, and I saw no one but Hilary. She came at mealtime, gave me food, took my used tray, and lectured me. I stopped listening after the first day and never replied but my silence did nothing to deter her. I was pretty sure she just liked to hear herself talk.
On the third day, the lock unexpectedly clicked between breakfast and lunch.
I was lying on the bed, but I quickly sat up, surprised and also a little worried.
Maybe they’d decided to move me to a prison hospital after all.
I hoped not. Being locked in this room and having no one to talk to and nothing to do was awful, but I wasn’t stupid.
The government hospitals would be worse.
The doorknob turned, and I braced myself. I was terrified of what was going to happen but was determined to face it with as much strength as possible. I would not cry. Would not beg. I would hold my head high.
All my determination melted away when the door swung open, and Marc stepped into the room. A strangled sob broke out of me, and I scrambled from the bed, tears blurring everything. My body was shaking, my legs weak, but I managed to stay standing.
We met in the middle of the room, and I threw myself against him.
When he wrapped his arms around me, I was crying uncontrollably and so shaky that, had I been left to my own devices, I would have had no chance of staying on my feet.
I clung to Marc for support, tangling my fists in his shirt while he held me, my face against his chest. My tears were hot and seemingly never-ending, and his shirt was damp even before we sank to the floor.
He held me while I cried, whispering soothing words I couldn’t focus on, his outdoorsy scent wrapping around me. I’d thought I’d never see him again, and how he was here now, I didn’t know, but I was so grateful for the chance to say goodbye. So thankful he’d risked everything to come.
“Ara,” he said after what felt like an hour of me crying, “what happened? Why did you attack Hilary?”
I sniffed, wiped my face on his shirt, and pulled back so I could see him. It was a stupid thing to do because the worry in his brown eyes made me start crying again.
“Ara,” Marc said more firmly this time, “tell me what’s going on.”
I tried to control my sobs, but it was no use. “Sh-sh-she said I c-couldn’t k-keep the ba-baby.”
The words sounded barely intelligible to my ears but apparently Marc got the point because he said, “What the fuck! They can’t do that, can they?”
“They can d-do anything.”
“Shit,” he raked his hand across his head. “Why? What was the reason?”
“My – ”
A hiccupped sob broke out of me, and I tried to regain some control. I inhaled, exhaled, swallowed down my tears. I didn’t know how much time Marc had, but it probably wasn’t long, and I had things to say.
“My attitude,” I managed to get out. “My behavior since being in the program.”
“The day I got you in trouble,” he filled in. “Shit. Oh, God, Ara, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
“It wasn’t just that. It was me. I’ve never kept it a secret that I was angry about being forced into the program or that I hated Hilary. She made note of that and anything else I did, and the Department of Fertility decided I wasn’t fit to be a mom.”
“But it’s your baby,” he said through gritted teeth.
“It’s the Department of Fertility’s baby.”
“No.” Marc stood and started to pace, raking his hand through his short, dark hair in agitation. “This is wrong. They can’t do this.”
I watched him from my position on the floor, unsure if I’d be able to stand even if I tried.
He was talking to himself, muttering all the same things I’d complained about since entering the program.
The injustice of them commandeering my uterus, how wrong it was to treat human beings this way, the irony of women like me being held prisoner while also being the hope for humanity.
None of it made sense. None of it was fair.
But this was how it was, and we were powerless to stop it.
Something about seeing my own rage manifest itself in him made me suddenly exhausted. I was tired of this emotional rollercoaster, tired of being a pawn in the Department of Fertility’s fight against extinction. Tired of being powerless.
“Marc,” I said after a few minutes.
He continued to pace, continued to mutter to himself.
“Marc,” I said more firmly.
He stopped. Turned to face me.
I patted the floor. “Come here. We don’t have much time.”
Obediently, he crossed the room and sank to the floor at my side. I took his hand, held it, and stared into his eyes, thinking of all the things I wanted to say. There was so much it was overwhelming.
“I love you,” I began. “Never forget that, okay?”
“I love you,” he repeated in a dull tone.
“I don’t know for sure what’s going to happen next,” I continued, “but whatever it is, it won’t be good for me. Which is why you can’t come here ever again.”
Marc blinked and his mouth fell open, but he recovered quickly. “What? Why would you say that?”
“Because in the government’s eyes, I’ve committed treason.
I’m a traitor, Marc. An enemy of the state.
You can’t get caught sneaking in to see me.
Before all this, things would have been bad if anyone found out about us, but it’s so much worse now.
You would go to jail for sure, and probably for a long, long time.
I don’t want that for you. Don’t want you to pay for the things I’ve done. ”
“Ara,” he said, holding my hand tighter, “I can’t just walk away from you. I won’t.”
“You have to,” I whispered when emotion clogged my throat. “Going to jail is going to be awful. Horrible. But if I had to live with the knowledge that my actions sent you to jail as well, it would be twice as bad. I can’t live with that on my conscience, Marc. Don’t make me.”
“I can’t just walk away from you,” he said again.
“You have to. We don’t have another choice.”
He stared at me, his jaw clenched as he held my hand, thinking it through. Probably, he was trying to come up with another solution, but it was useless. There was nothing we could do.
“We have to leave,” he said after a few minutes of silence. “We have to get out of here.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.” Marc’s grip on my hand tightened, grinding my bones together. “We’ll run away. Before you have the baby. We can do it, Ara. No one even knows we’re together, so they wouldn’t expect it.”
I sighed to let him know how useless I thought it was, but wanting to play along for a little bit asked, “And where would we go?”
“Canada,” he said without hesitation.
I wasn’t surprised since he’d already brought it up, but I couldn’t rein in my incredulity when I said, “Canada? That’s what, a thousand miles away?”
Honestly, the distance was the least of my doubts, but I thought it might be the one thing that could get through to him.
I was wrong.
“A little less,” he said, his tone stubborn.
“And how would we get there, Marc?” I challenged. “Walk?”
“We’ll steal a truck. Drive overnight. It’s far, but in a car, it will take half a day. We can do it, Ara. I know we can.”
“They’ll come after us,” I said. “I’m pregnant. I’m a traitor. They won’t just let me go.”
“We can do it,” he said firmly. “Will you try? If I find a way, will you risk it?”
Hope shimmered in his eyes, but no matter what I did, I couldn’t conjure up any for myself. This was the most hopeless situation I could imagine. Still, what did it hurt if I said yes? Nothing. I was already going to jail, most likely forever, so why not let him cling to this impossible dream?
The odds that Marc would be able to come up with a plan were slim to none, which I had to face reality. My son would be taken from me and then my freedom. Marc, though, was free. And I needed to make sure it stayed that way.
“I’ll try under one stipulation.”
“What is it?” he asked.
“That you promise that if you can’t come up with a plan, that if you can’t figure out a way to get us out of here, you’ll stay away from me.”
“Ara, no,” he began.
I cut him off. “I’m serious, Marc. I don’t want you going to prison for me, so you have to promise.”
He hesitated, but it didn’t take long for him to say, “Fine. I promise.”
“Good.” I let out a long breath then got to my feet, pulling him with me. “Now, let’s take what little time we have left to say goodbye.”
Hand in hand, we walked to the bed.
When I kissed Marc goodbye that day, I was sure it would be the last time I saw him.
Assuming he held up his end of the bargain.
It hurt more than anything I’d ever done, even overshadowing when I’d had to say goodbye to Trevor, but it was also a comfort because it was the right thing to do. He couldn’t go to prison for me.
Days and weeks passed in endless monotony, and I began to wonder if even the prison hospital would be preferable to the nothingness I was currently living with.
After all, even hardened criminals were allowed entertainment.
They had outdoor time, jobs, books and cards in their cells, and even television. I had nothing, though.
Was it on purpose? Were the other women in this building in the same position, or was this Hilary’s way of getting back at me? I didn’t know, and since I still refused to talk to her, I wasn’t going to ask.
I slept a lot. Thought even more. I imagined what it would be like if, by some miracle, Marc and I were allowed to create a life together.
We wouldn’t have our baby, but we could try for another.
It wouldn’t fill the hole our son left behind and we would never forget him, but we would be able to move on.
Somehow. Other times I imagined Marc and I were able to get away and create a life together in Canada.
That scenario was better because in it, our son was with us, but it also hurt too much to think about because it was so far-fetched.
I typically stuck with the other daydream.