It sounded like someone was angry.
He’s digging, and I really don’t like it.
“I might need to give you a refund,” I say. “I’m a little tired tonight.”
Please don’t go. He sends a bunch of crying emojis. I won’t ask any more.
I try to pick up the show where it left off, but my heart isn’t in it. It all gives me the creeps.
At least I haven’t had many pregnancy symptoms yet. I haven’t gotten sick like in all the books and movies. I feel decidedly normal, but an eerie, melancholy normal, as if nothing will actually ever be the same again.
I try to spend more time with Tilly, but she can tell I’m in a bummer mood. She invites me out to do fun activities to keep me distracted. We go bowling, attend trivia night, or veg out and watch movies at her house with popcorn and ice cream. I can definitely still eat lots of ice cream.
“Maybe you could try reaching out to them in a few months,” Tilly suggests one night. “When things have cooled off. Try talking to Jack directly.”
The last thing I want is another confrontation with Jack. He’d been so menacing that night… I have a hard time imagining he would even look at my message. Not that I have anything to say.
It’s all been said, and now we live with the fallout.
Time drags by. My viewership decreases steadily as I fail to show up every night, and when I do, I simply can’t summon the same enthusiasm, no matter how hard I try.
HornyBen is never there anymore, of course.
Then, one morning, I wake up to find myself wet. When I push down the blanket, a small puddle of blood surrounds me.
I call the hospital right away, hoping I haven’t lost this baby. But I already know.
Bennett
I have never been so unhappy.
Every night and every day I think about Bree, about our fawn, about the radical injustice of it all. I think about leaving myself, but I committed to being a dad, and I’m going to be the best dad there is, even if it kills me.
These are the days I sit in my cubicle with my face in my hands, the cursor on the screen blinking as it waits for me to finish an email. I haven’t even attended one of Sienna’s streams since the night of the dinner, trying to be a good husband, trying to make amends with Jack. But even as we pretend things are normal, I know they’ll never be the same again.
Finally, it’s five o’clock, so I pack up my shit and head home. Surprisingly, Jack’s SUV is already in the driveway, and the lights in the house are all on. It smells good as I approach the front door.
Inside the house, light jazz is playing, and Jack stands in front of the stove in an apron. He smiles when I appear in the entryway.
“Hope you like homemade pizza,” he says as he stretches out a ball of dough.
“Sure do.” I slide past him in the kitchen, and he frowns as I go by. Maybe once upon a time, I’d have squeezed his ass. But that kind of playfulness in myself feels like it’s gone into hibernation.
Eventually, Arthur gets home. He’s quiet as he goes to change out of his yoga clothes. He found a new place to attend classes on the other side of town, but he never comes back in a good mood like he used to. Finally, we’re all seated at the table, and I compliment Jack accordingly on his pizza-making skills.
I’m doing my best to heal this relationship, I really am. But my heart isn’t in it.
When Jack’s phone rings, he lets out an annoyed sigh and takes it out of his pocket, probably thinking it’s spam. But when he looks at the screen, his mouth forms a stiff line.
“It’s DreamTogether.”
“Well, answer it,” Arthur says.
I scoot my chair closer so I can hear as someone on the other end greets Jack by name.
“What is it?” he asks as he puts it on speakerphone. “If it’s about our payment plan?—”
“No,” the woman interrupts. “It’s about your surrogate.”
