I pulled up in front of my old house, and the memories hit me hard. Everything looked almost the same, just worn down by time. The light green paint was chipped and fading. Instead of the open space, an iron gate now separated the house from the others. The fresh green grass I used to tear up was gone, replaced by white and black pebbles.
I lost my virginity in this house to my high school sweetheart when I snuck her in while Mom and Dad were gone. We didn’t know what we were doing, but I did everything I had seen on TVto make her feel special since it was her first time too. That was one of the best days of my life, and one I never forgot about. I was young, in love, and full of cum.
I fought niggas in front of this crib. I watched people get shot through the front window. I ran the streets with neighborhood kids until the streetlights came on and our mothers called our names from the porches. And inside those walls, I built the best memories of my life with my parents. Just the three of us.
I wasn’t one to get emotional, but I felt it in my chest. It was like I could hear my father’s voice in my head. Every morning before work, he would kiss Mama, pull me into a tight hug, and say, “Reason, it’s your turn to take care of your mama until I get home. You think you can handle that?”
“I got it, Dad,” I would tell him, trying to sound older than I was.
He would smile and say, “I know you do. You are going to be a great man one day. I just know it.”
Another memory I never forgot was Mama packing my father’s meals and sliding a small note inside his lunch pail to help him get through his long shifts as an electrician. At the end of the day, he would come home with that note and place it inside a red shoebox with all the others she had given him. He saved everything Mama and I ever gave him.
We did not have much. The house was small. Money was tight, as I would hear them say. But the love in our home made us feel rich.
Man, I miss my father so much.
I gave my old house one final glance and drove off.
I checked my Patek Philippe, realizing I had forty-five minutes until my meeting with Basheer. He had flown to L.A. before me to link with the Honors about my case. They asked me to come out here to provide my sperm, which was the first thing I handled this morning. I was told they would process it ata fertility clinic and select the healthiest sperm cells. Then, once we found a surrogate, she would be inseminated.
I still would’ve preferred to do it the natural way, but we cannot always get everything we want in this life. I also wish we could’ve used Saje’s egg, but that was not an option either. That’s why I kept telling Basheer and the Honors that the chosen surrogate had to have similarities to my wife, since technically, she would be biologically related to our baby.
Everything still felt unreal, but it was moving along smoothly. They were reviewing surrogates, trying to find the right match.
I pulled into the circular driveway of the mansion I rented for the two days I was here and parked. Basheer had already arrived. He leaned against his rental truck, smoking a blunt. When I got out of the vehicle and headed his way, he passed me the blunt, which I declined. We had an important matter to discuss, and I wanted to be brain-fog-free.
“You ain’t the same young college nigga who used to smoke up everybody shit,” he bellowed.
“Them days is long gone. A nigga got more important shit to worry ’bout.”
Basheer nodded.
I waited until he finished smoking. Then we entered the mansion and sat in the living room. Basheer didn’t waste no time pulling out a mini notebook from his pocket. He flipped through the pages.
“You lucky you pay well, nigga, because this job is tedious as fuck. After going through hundreds of surrogates, I think we might have found ‘the one’.”
I sat up straight, my heart thumping against my chest.
He turned to a page, flattened the book to make it stay open, then handed it to me.
“Based on the detailed information you provided about Saje’s traits, they searched for surrogates with similar features. They have an entire profile with physical descriptions, medical history, and photos only they have access to.”
“You mean to tell me this shit is really happening?”
“Why you look all shocked? Ain’t this what y’all want?”
“Yeah,” I responded, thinking about Saje. I hoped she approved of the decisions I was making.
“Then what’s up? You having doubts?”
I didn’t want to disclose what was really on my mind. “Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to being anonymous. Shouldn’t I see the woman who will be carrying my seed? How am I supposed to trust a process when I can’t even look the woman who will be carrying my child in the eyes? Not only that, she’ll…” My voice trailed off.
Saje’s face flashed in my mind again. The day she came into my office crying about her diagnosis. The way she tried to stay strong, acting like the news didn’t break something inside her… like it didn’t break something inside me.
I had to stop myself from saying more to Basheer. If I brought up that the woman would be the biological mother, this might open the door for him to start asking questions about Saje.
He was aware that Saje’s egg wasn’t being used, but he didn’t need to know why, and if he pressed the issue, I would probably lose a friend today.
