Tallum has waitressed here several years ago. She wore the mandatory uniform consisting of an inconvenient long-sleeved non-stretch black dress showcasing her collarbones and shoulders which earned her venomous stares from wives. Paired with the dress came ugly black ballet slippers with a thick rubber sole. She flitted and fumbled through the maze of circular tables covered with white cloth donning whatever flower happened to be in season from some faraway exotic country. She served men five-hundred-dollar wagyu steaks with her annual income on their wrist while their women sipped cocktails adorned with golden flakes on the rim just to get a twenty-dollar tip.
Now she is here for a business proposition. She stands in the foyer of her old workplace, gleaming black tiles underfoot of her much more fashionable flats. She sheds her black dress for a navy sweater and a wool heather gray skirt. Simple single pearl earrings decorate her ears, a poor attempt at communicating that she belongs here, not as a waitress but as a guest. Tallum carries herself to the hostess booth and raises her voice to be heard over the crashing artificial waterfall to the right of her.
“Yes, um, I’m supposed to be meeting Anastasia Res. I think she made a reservation for us for two in the afternoon,” Tallum loathes herself for how unsure she seems. It is almost as if she is afraid the hostess will deny her claim and force her to take orders.
The hostess skeptically looks over Tallum and then looks down at her list. “Ah, yes. She isn’t here but I can escort you to your table. Follow me.” The hostess leads her through the array of tables and Tallum feels a sense of obligation to the eaters. She sees a nearly empty flute of champagne and her mouth opens to offer a refill. Her fingers twitch to pick up finished plates. She has to quell the urge to ask patrons with disdainful looks if they need anything. Then an oasis appears in the form of a small table with two chairs next to a tall and narrow window. The brightness contrasts so much with the black interior of the main eating area, it seems as if Tallum is in a different place altogether. She sits feeling wrong. She should be in the kitchen scarfing down an order that had been sent back, hiding herself, not out in the open where anyone could see her. Then she sees herself walking towards her, wait no, that’s just a waitress. Tallum orders a glass of water because that is all she can afford, and she does not expect Mrs. Res to pay for her meal today. Tallum stares at the flurry of bubbles occurring in her glass as the waitress pours. After three gulps, Mrs. Res enters.
Mrs. Res is skyscraper tall for a woman. Her black pointed heels, which have a splash of red on the bottom, make her six foot two. A structured black blazer fits nicely over her slender shoulders, and a white collar stands out against the deep dark. A panel of four white, what Tallum suspects are ivory, buttons clasp the jacket together. A black pencil skirt complements the ensemble. Mrs. Res raises Tallum’s pearl earrings for a full pearl necklace and ruby earrings which perfectly match the shade of red lipstick placed precisely to accentuate her sharp cupid’s bow. She walks as if she is in slow motion like she’s giving everyone a chance to soak up her beauty and brilliance and then she sits down across from Tallum.
Tallum is silent, and in that quiet, she takes in Mrs. Res’s face which is all angles. Sharp jaw, pointy chin, long and narrow nose. Underneath her opaque black sunglasses are poison green eyes. Her face is so precise, the shock of red hair barely stuns. Not a strand is out of place, her bob is so uniform it resembles a helmet. When the waitress comes Mrs. Res orders earl grey tea. It is only after one polite sip that she addresses Tallum.
“I am so incredibly happy to be meeting you,” Anastasia Res’ voice is deep and solid. Her cadence wraps around each syllable like it’s a lullaby.
Tallum does not know how to respond, “Oh, um.”
“You have no idea what you mean to me and my husband.” Tallum thought that in a situation like this, it was peculiar for Mrs. Res’ husband to be absent.
“Well, I have a gift, that some, unfortunately, do not have,” Tallum winced at her response, would that come off as bragging?
If it did Mrs. Res let it roll off her shoulders. “Silly me, having silly women thoughts, that I could do it all. Have a successful career and a family,” Mrs. Res said with her elfin face looking down at the digital menu but her eyes piercing up through her forest of eyelashes at Tallum. She looks back down and shakes her head. “All of a sudden I woke up with hot flashes and my vagina was like the Sahara.” She laughed at herself. “I wasn’t expecting it to happen so quickly. I’m only forty-one, but you know now they’re saying the average age has decreased for menopause due to all the shit they were putting in our food back in the day,” she shakes her head and rolls her eyes. Tallum nodded knowing full well about the increasing rate of infertility running rampant throughout the world. That fact alone led her to monetize her rare eggs. “That’s where you come in my sweet darling,” Mrs. Res clasped her hands into a micro shelf and placed her chin upon it. She smiled showing her too straight teeth, the lipstick pulling from the few lines on her lips. “You can give me what I’ve always wanted. A baby. I am ready to pay you $750,000. Half will be given to you as soon as you sign the contract, and the other half will be given to you after I have my baby. I can’t wait any longer so after a physical to make sure you’re in tip-top shape as soon as you’re ovulating, we’re gonna put that baby in you,” Mrs. Res smiles so wide parenthesis appear around her cheekbones. The smile disappears, “That is if you agree.”
“I do.” This seemed so unceremonious. Tallum is about to use her body to make a human being for somebody else and it took all of two maybe three minutes to discuss. She knew when she walked in, there was a very slim chance she would back out, but to be here and actualizing what she had been advertising herself for online and after a mere three weeks, for it to work so seamlessly seemed so mundane to her.
Tears well in those toxic green eyes, “Thank you,” Mrs. Res’ voice cracks around the gratitude. She pulls out a small black circle and laid it on the table. In the air, an apparition of a contract appeared. Tallum knows she should have a lawyer look over this before signing something so important but she’s poor, so she takes her pointer finger and signs the air. Then Mrs. Res has Tallum record herself saying she is fully aware of what she has agreed to do.
At the end of their meeting, they shake hands then Mrs. Res pulls Tallum into a brisk hug and they part ways.
***
Talum is floating in a galaxy. Tiny white orbs with blue linings fill the air. Tallum’s long brown hair floats around her as if she has been shocked. A hospital gown is her only apparel. Not even socks grace her feet. She slowly turns on an invisible horizontal axis. For a moment she closes her eyes and imagines that this is what it would be like when she dies. For the first time besides clothing not being touched by anything while levitating an in endless peaceful nothingness. A few beeps take her away from her death and she opens her eyes, seeing the two white curved rods overhead creating the outline of an oval. She is reminded that she is not in a galaxy but having her body scanned for healthiness. She is alone in a stark white room, with overused fluorescent lights above. The room is bright, it is hard to decipher where the floor ends, and the walls begin. Rotating herself until she is on her stomach, she looks at the wall in front of her. Decorating the white wall is a large pane of glass giving her the view of two older men looking at screens and charts and readings she cannot see. Mrs. Res stands behind them, lips pursed, whether in confusion or disappointment, Tallum cannot tell. Mrs. Res stands out the most between both rooms in her wide boatneck emerald green dress which makes her eyes punch through the glass like lasers. Tallum’s stomach rolls and lurches.
After a dozen more, slow rotations, Tallum is slowly lowered to the ground. She stretches out her legs, and first her toes then both feet are touching the ground. She had been up there so long the ground feels foreign, too hard, abrasive, and cold for her feet. She grimaces feeling sad that she is no longer an exception to gravity. Then a rectangular piece of the wall slides back, the trio of the two doctors and Mrs. Res steps in. The door slides back into place becoming imperceptible. Two doctors are forgettable and average, one with gray temples and with black on the top, the other with gray temples and sandy brown on top. They wear typical lab coats; the brunette even has a pocket protector with a stylus in his pocket. The other one distractedly scrolls on his tablet, gleaning at Tallum’s innards. Tallum crosses her feet back and forth, like a little girl who’s about to get in trouble. Mrs. Res has white gloves as a prop that she squeezes like a stress ball. Her mouth is in a tight line as life wobbles back and forth not knowing which path she is about to be led down.
Okay, the brunette says. “You are healthy as a horse, as they would say back in the day,” he chortles at himself. He scrolls some more, “You are ovulatiiinngg,” he draws out the word as he sorts through the information, “Ah, tomorrow. What a coincidence?” Another chortle. “Oh, I’m Dr. Michael by the way, I’m the physician. My colleague here is Dr. Samuel he is your OBGYN. He’s going to help along your journey. Obviously. I’ll let him talk you through the process.”
Dr. Samuel comes to life with that queue a too wide, too polite smile fracturing his face. “Hello Tallum, I am your OBGYN as Dr. Michael stated. Just to make you a bit more comfortable, I will tell you a little more about us. We are the head medical professionals at Surtiv. We are also the founders of this fertility center. Our main goal is to provide the most cutting-edge technology to people who want babies and provide top-notch care to individuals who are carrying those babies. We pride ourselves on having the lowest mortality rates among infants, as well as mothers. We understand that this is a difficult time for you because you have a job you need to fulfill that is not in your full control. That is where we come in, every step of the way we are here to help you so that you have the safest, most comfortable, and most importantly healthiest pregnancy while here. Tonight, you will stay here, the next morning you will be inseminated, with Mrs. Res’ husband’s sperm, for the rest of your pregnancy you will stay in our facilities so we can keep a watchful eye on you. You will have 24/7 care for your pregnancy. To help you with your transition you have mandatory therapy sessions, with Dr. Ahmund. That is about it. Any other pertinent information will be told to you when pertinent.” He gives a little chortle of his own. “Any questions.”
Tallum shakes her head. Mrs. Res’ eyes are filled with tears as she hugs Tallum, and it feels like she’s being crushed by a trash compactor.
***
Tallum has a sweet baked potato, salmon, and broccoli for dinner in her new humble abode. She now lives in a room a bit more spacious than the college dorm she stayed in several years ago. Only this time she has a full-size bed. Her bedding consists of pastel yellow sheets and a comforter with a pillowcase to match. She has a fake window where she can change the settings to make it look like the aurora borealis is outside, or the beach is at her fingertips, there’s also dry orange-red desert available that makes her feel like she’s on Mars. She chooses the aurora borealis. In the corner of her room is a mini fridge stocked with water bottles and pieces of fruit. A television is built in the wall in front of the foot of her bed. While the room is accommodating, it is suffocating and daunting because what the hell is Tallum going to do during the next several months. She lays down, in her Egyptian cotton pajamas courtesy of Sutriv. The control panel for her room is built into the nightstand beside her. With one tap the lights are out but her eyes are wide open.
Sometime somehow, she eventually drifts off but doesn’t know it until she’s jolted out of her sleep by a knock so rapid it sounds like a woodpecker. Without permission, a nurse donning aqua blue scrubs comes in. “Hello Ms. Tallum, I am Careen, I am here to escort you to your insemination appointment,” she says with a grin.
“Uh um, let me get ready, first?”
“Of course honey. I will be right outside the door.”
It dawns on Tallum, that when she came here she did not bring anything to wear because she thought she was just having a physical. Luckily, she finds some clothing in the draw underneath her artificial window.
While walking, Careen asks, “Do you have any questions or qualms I can help you with Ms. Tallum.” Tallum shakes her head and feels irrational, for never asking any questions, but she can truly think of none. “Okay, then sweetheart.” Finally, they stop in the hallway. No door in sight. But there are numbers lit beneath the surface of the wall at about waist level. Careen puts in a long sequence, and the seam of the door appears, opening. In the nurse’s hand is a silver canister, very similar to a thermos. Careen gestures her inside. There is the same bright white. In the middle of the room is a cushy white chair with stirrups, in front of the chair are four arches in a diamond formation that merge at one point where a huge steel needle with a hollow tip is. Careen stands next to where the door was. Tallum takes a few steps and looks back at her nurse. Careen nods at her, “You can sit in the chair if you like,” she encourages, “I’m just waiting on Dr. Samuel.” As if he heard her calling, he steps into the room.
“Hello, Ms. Tallum, how are you today? How did you rest? It’s common for our patients to be anxious,” he looks remarkably the same, like he hasn’t changed or showered.
“I got some rest.”
“That’s good. Now if you’d like to change into this.” He hands her a hospital gown. “I’ll be in the other room controlling everything.
“Oh okay.” He briskly walks out, and she quickly jerks off the clothes and struggles to put on the thin gown, not wanting to be naked in front of Careen for too long. She then gets in the chair. Careen unglues herself from the wall and helps Tallum put her feet up into the stirrups, her vagina right in front of Careen’s face. Tallum’s cheeks redden at the thought, so she turns her head and looks at Dr. Samuel through the glass as he does whatever he’s doing.
“Alright Careen. Go ahead and put the specimen in place,” Dr. Samuel’s voice comes out of invisible speakers, so crisp and clear it is like God is speaking to her. Careen opens the thermos-like object, and a cloud appears, and a hissing sound pierces the quiet. She takes out a small vial with a white substance and snaps in the back of the needle. The snap makes Tallum’s core tighten and heart rise. “Everything is alright Tallum. I won’t do anything until you give me the go-ahead.” What if Tallum decided to wait all day? Or multiple days? Then the thought of the contract she signed and the 325k sitting in her bank account pushes inside of her mind.
“I’m ready,” Tallum says.
“Great,” Dr. Samuel says. Careen gives a smile and nods and steps away from the injector.
The machine whirs to life while it lowers and angles itself towards Tallum opening. Then it is inside her. The level of the white fluid decreases as it is pushed inside her.
Then a life begins.
***
A couple of weeks later, time passing is hard to pinpoint here, Tallum is declared to be pregnant with a viable fetus. She has an ultrasound that shows her a blob of cells which are deemed healthy. Afterwards she is taken to Mrs. Ahmund’s office. Tallum is surprised, unlike the rest of the ultra-futuristic building it is surprisingly normal. One wall is a dark wooden bookshelf filled to the brim with textbooks. Tallum tries to glance her way and find some book for leisure, a naughty romance, or some Jane Austen but finds none. Solely epistemological. Towards the back is a solid and sturdy looking wooden desk that looks handcrafted, with leaves and faux columns carved on each corner. A stereotypical burgundy oversized chaise sits closest to the door and an ornate matching overstuffed chair sits between the desk and the chaise. In it sits a woman with short white hair slicked back with a little bit of volume. A hawk-like nose takes up the most space on her face. Her lips are thin but her cupid’s bow is a sharp dip. Her blue eyes are surprisingly bright for her mature age. “Have a seat,” she says dismissively as if Tallum has come late to her meeting.
Tallum falls under her command quickly sitting down but feels awkward. Should she lay down in a chaise, or is that too presumptuous? She stays as is.
The therapist looks at her with an impregnable gaze. Her stare is abrasive. “You have a life inside of you, that does not belong to you. You were once a young child and you did not know your choices would bring you here in front of me. How does that make you feel?”
Tallum is slammed into existentialism. “Um, I mean. It’s not like I can change anything now.”
“But how does that make you feel?” Her words impale her. She is inescapable.
A boulder appears in Tallum’s throat. “Defeated.” She forces out around the obstruction in her throat and a set of tears start rolling down her ruddy cheeks. She takes the sleeves of her shirt and forcefully wipes them away like a child.
Dr. Ahmund’s eyes go soft minutely. “Why?”
“I tried so hard to succeed and nothing ever worked out in my favor.” She wept in front of the stranger. For a few minutes, all that fills the room are the sounds of her rough whimpers and that become the only way she can breathe.
When her cries hit a diminuendo Dr. Ahmund addresses her again. “What did you want to be?”
An image of an open road is in front of Tallum. On either side of her small beat-up sedan, are endless rows of corn. The sky is gray with white clouds and a smokey sun is behind them as she heads toward her first year of college. Young and filled with a burgeoning passion she thought she was headed towards the future she had always dreamt of when she was young. It was only seven years ago that she made her way up to New York, a mecca for stupid idealistic fools like her. She attended a school studying journalism and gender studies wanting to use what she learned to travel around the states penning articles about marginalized women. Instead, she ended up having five roommates in an apartment with three bedrooms, working a minimum of two jobs and a maximum of three after she graduated. She waited tables, temped as a secretary, and occasionally nannied for children who had bedrooms as big as her whole apartment.
Two years post-grad, she decided to stop the hustle and take some time to try to freelance. She sold her car and lived off cheap frozen meals as she sank herself into a sea of words only to get an ocean of rejection. After three months she became convinced that the degree she had hanging above her while she wrote was a waste of time that might have made a ruin of her life. She had picked a degree for a field that was an emaciated corpse, all that was left behind were maggots. No one in their right mind was buying subscriptions for news outlets, not even Tallum, and that was her passion. Everyone was getting their news from free websites, which only had enough money to keep the websites up, not to pay actual writers. Tallum might as well have tried to become an Olympic gold medalist. Those odds had to be better. After opening the freezer and discovering she only had enough frozen meals for the rest of the week, and no money to replenish her stash she went back to working to the marrow. But she was defeated this time, going to work, and realizing that this was what you were probably going to do for the rest of your life, your dreams not on hold but crucified made it excruciating to work. So, she did some research on jobs that had little to no qualifications but also had a high payout which brought her to surrogacy which brought her to a surrogacy forum, which brought her to Mrs. Res, which brought her here.
But it’s too painful to talk about it out loud, it’s one thing to have those thoughts, to actualize them to someone else is another. She lies, but not completely “I don’t know.”
“Well, the course you’re on now is stringent. There is no exit. So, you have to be okay with this choice, let it sit with you because there is no avoiding this.”
***
Tallum wakes up in her bedroom and all she must do is shift her eyes down just a bit to see the horizon of her belly. She sighs at the sight, at the unknown that lies beneath her intestines. She watches as the curve rises and falls with her breath. Her hands lay beside her body. She hates touching her bump, her hand feels like it should not be on something that is not rightfully hers. She thinks of all the people who touch their burgeoning pregnant bellies for comfort, and yet all she feels is discomfort. As if after the insemination from her breasts down became the property of Mrs. Res.
Her deprecating thoughts are stunted by her nurse Careen with her signature overly cheery smile. Seeing Careen so happy makes Tallum’s mood plummet even more and the day has not even started. Tears begin to brim in her eyes. Careen’s smile drops. “Oh, dear.” She sits on the edge of the bed next to Tallum and rubs her shoulders. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Here let’s get a few things accomplished today it’ll make you feel better. Here, put this in your mouth, it’s a toothpaste pill.”
Tallum gives an adverse look, “I can get up and brush my own teeth thank you.”
“Well, at this point in your pregnancy Dr. Samuel does not want you to move a muscle if you don’t have to.”
How long had Tallum been here, what trimester was she even in? She looks around the room. No clock to indicate time. Even though her television is state of the art, it conveniently lacks the date or time on the screensaver. “How many months do I have left.”
“Oh, you’re towards the middle of your second trimester,” she nods at Tallum with that smile in place. “You’re almost there. Now here to take this.” Even though she tells Tallum to take it, Careen forces it into Tallum’s mouth. She feels the slick slimy surface of the capsule and bites down on it, really meaning to bite Careen.
It feels as though she has bit down on a nest of spiders. Nanoparticles bursting throughout her mouth and scrubbing every crevice within her mouth. Her cheeks bloom with thick foam that seems inescapable. Any way her tongue moves she’s met with more micro cleaners. It becomes so thick she can’t even move her tongue to touch her teeth.
Nurse Careen places a cup in front of her mouth and Tallum forces the stiff foam out of her mouth in a thick blob, then another, and by the fourth time it’s all out of her mouth. And even though it’s the cleanest her mouth has ever been she feels soiled.
***
Tallum disrobes herself and looks at naked form in the mirror. The stomach is not merely a bump. It sags. It hangs. It drags. Her breasts are huge like they’ve mutated and need to be told to stop. Blue and purple veins create vines around her torso. Her body has been fully relinquished to whatever entity possesses it. She has created a child with a man she has never met and does not know.
“C’mon darling. Get in the tub.” The only time Tallum is active is when she takes her walk for her daily bath. She did not know when she signed her body over to make baby she would become one. She can barely do anything for herself. She steps into the tub which is like the room she had her physical and was impregnated in. A plain white with a tub standing in the center. She gets in the water, which is at the perfect temperature, slightly stinging her skin as she eases her way down to the bottom with Careen holding her hand during the descent. This is one of the few if not the only pleasure she has.
Her days are monotonous, mundane. She drinks sludge smoothies with all her daily vitamins pulverized into one concoction. It looks like a vanilla milkshake but tastes like a bitter powder. When asked why she couldn’t just have fruit smoothies, they told her it’s because the high amount of sugar wouldn’t be healthy daily along with the fact that they couldn’t control the amount of each vitamin she was getting from the fruit. It had been the first time she had been told fruit was unhealthy. If she wants to be social, she plays some card or a board game with Careen but Tallum has slowly begun to hate the woman so the less she sees of her nurse the better. She can’t watch certain television because they might overstimulate her and cause stress which would be bad for the baby. They have a set list of television shows she is allowed to watch which might as well be kid shows with adult actors. The same goes for reading material. To pass the time she takes naps in between meals or puts together intricate puzzles and then takes naps. Right now, she’s working on a thousand-piece puzzle which should be an image of The Kiss by Gustav Klimt when finished. Sometimes in the quiet she thinks she can hear the faintest of screams. When she goes to bed at night, never when she naps, she has dreams about Procne eating Tereus’ baby boy.
The crash of the water as Careen plunges the cloth under brings Tallum out of her stupor. Tallum’s back rests on the back of the tub as she disdainfully looks at Careen openly and is only met with the upturned corners of her mouth. She begins with her legs, and Tallum turns her head to the stomach that was once hers.
As quick as lightning, like a quick minnow darting underneath the surface of the water, she sees a nudge. It is not a regular nudge though. When she saw the nudge, it was as if she could articulate each finger through her skin. A sharp breath catches in her throat.
“What,” Careen stops mid-stroke. She looks so concerned, which infuriates Tallum because she knows this woman does not truly care about her.
“I just-I just saw a hand press out from my stomach.”
Careen’s eyes squint and Tallum can see all the pity in her face and for the first time she wants to hit her, “Sweetheart sometimes pregnancy is not kind to the mind. It was probably your imaginat—”
“How long have I been pregnant.”
Careen’s forehead wrinkles and her eyebrows pinch, “You’re in the third trimester.”
“How long have I been in the third trimester?”
“What are you insinuating?”
Tallum raises her hands slams them in the water with a grunt. Water flies everywhere and Careen doesn’t even flinch as drops of water hit her face. “This baby needs to come out. NOW!”
“You have not carried to the full gestation period. I know it may feel long but that’s because a lot of people are under the misconception that a pregnancy lasts for nine months, when it’s actually closer to ten. You’re in the home stretch hun, you can make it.”
“No! Get this baby out of me.” Tallum begins to claw at her stomach. Angry red welts appear as she tries to excavate the critter out.
Careen does not try to restrain her. Instead, she pulls out a mask from her pocket and hits some buttons on a control panel. Small squares of ceiling flap down exposing black openings. A mist pours out and Tallum’s eyelids become heavy and so do her arms. She stops moving altogether. Her head slumps on the back of the tub and Dr. Samuel and nurse Careen place her body on a gurney and take her back to her room.
That night when Procne is about to take the first bite of her baby roast, Tallum feels something wet between her legs. Did she pee herself again? But then a striking pain wracks her body, making breathing unavailable for a moment. When the pain leaves, she catches her breath, and a weariness falls heavy on her. She looks down below and instead of a wet mark, there’s a pool of thick red blood. Her face splits in half as she lets out a horrific scream. Hot tears run down her face, saliva strings come out of her mouth, snot comes into her mouth. Careen runs into the room along with Dr. Samuel.
“Do you want me to get the gurney sir,” Careen asks dutifully.
“I don’t think we have time. You grab her by the feet, I’ll get her by the shoulders.” Dr. Samuel moves to grab Tallum under her armpits.
“GET IT OUT OF ME!” Tallum wails. “GET IT OUT OF ME! GET IT OUT OF ME! GET IT OUT OF ME!”
They pay her no mind as they carry her to another room, a room that Tallum has never been to before. There is an unusual number of items in the room, the complete antithesis of the other spaces she’s been in before. There’s a tray with tools, a large screen giving readings, and huge lights hanging above an operating table.
Is Tallum about to be free? They lay her on the table. They mention nothing about pushing or an emergency c-section. The last thing she sees is Dr. Samuel looking at her like a faulty mechanical part, like she is a mathematical equation that needs solving, like she is a task. In those deadened, dull eyes she realizes this man does not see her as a human, and when she sees that she gasps.
He does not react, he simply places a mask over her mouth and nose and her vision goes immediately black.
***
Tallum does not know where she has been, but it has not been in her body. Somehow, she forgot she had one of those, that she belonged inside of something. She forgot what it was like, and then something hurt and she did not even register that hurting is bad. She felt something that she forgot she could experience. Then she realized she could see a little bit more than darkness. That there was something behind the darkness. She felt something apart of her twitch. And then she felt a short tremor in front of what she identified as her skull and that the tremor is coming from her eyelids. The twitching, the digits of her fingers, pain in her abdomen. She forces her eyes to open and it takes a lot of willpower. She is not in the operating room. She is in a normal patient’s room. Something is not right. Something is wrong, and she feels the ache in her jaw and gags and chokes on whatever is in her mouth. Careen’s hair comes into the view and the intense emotion of anger comes over and overwhelms her. Wherever she had been was peaceful, and to be brought back so abruptly, and have all the memories dump into her head caused her cranium to pulsate. Careen removes the tube, and her tongue feels like a tumor that needs to be removed. Her mouth feels like it belongs to a mummy.
Then she remembers why she’s here in the first place. Tallum looks down and appraises her stomach and for the first time in a long time it is flat. She realizes the pain she felt must be from the incision from the C-section. She looks past her belly but sees a curtain of white across her torso blocking her view.
Careen moves the mobile divider. Tallum first sees Dr. Samuel in a corner conversing with a toddler on her hip. The kid whips his curly brown head around, mouth open so Tallum can see some tiny teeth impaling their way through the gums. Tallum stops and really looks and notices the bright red hair behind the child’s head. It’s Mrs. Res in an all-white gauze outfit that consists of wide-legged pants and a simple square top. Whose child is that? Tallum wonders.
“She’s awake,” Careen announces.
“Ah, good.” Dr. Samuel has a smile that says a job well done. “Hello, Tallum. You did well. The c-section went without a hitch and we were able to bring you to, without any complications afterward.
“Bring me to what?”
Dr. Samuel looks back at Mrs. Res, whose eyes are open wide and her lips pinched close together like she has a secret.
“You were in a coma for about two years,” Dr. Samuel says slowly.
“Wait, what? No, I just gave birth,” Tallum shakes her head, not computing.
“Two things can be right at the same time Tallum. We kept the baby inside you for about three years.” Dr. Samuel sounds like he’s hiding annoyance behind his polite tone.
Tallum’s words wobble and warble out of her mouth, her throat so dry and scratchy, “What,wh-h-how”.
“If you read our agreement” Mrs. Res begins, she says the words slow like Tallum is cannot comprehend anything, “I contracted you out so that by the time the baby was born he would be two years old. I did not want to go through the whole newborn phase. Now all my baby needs is a little physical therapy to get him walking, and a speech pathologist to get him talking.” She nuzzles her baby’s stomach with her face.
“You-you know I didn’t read the agreement. You watched me sign it.”
“Well, that’s on you dear. You did me a huge service and I will be forever grateful to you Tallum. I mean that.” She nods her head at Tallum trying to convince her.
“Your body is very sturdy Tallum,” Dr. Samuel says, “If you’d be willing to be a participant again, I’ll definitely recommend you to other parents as soon your body recuperates. You’ll of course need to go through some rigorous physical therapy since your muscles have not been in use.”
“How is this even possible?” Tallum gets out.
“To put it simply we prime your body, all those milkshakes were preparing you for your hibernation period. To prevent you from giving birth before we want you to, we give you hormone blockers throughout your coma so that the contractions don’t start. During your coma, we gave you a bunch of supplements for you and the child to come out as healthiest as possible-”
“If this was in my contract why did no one ever mention it, why were there no calendars or clocks available to me.”
“Well, Dr. Ahmund found out during our research phase that a pregnancy that lasts that long wreaks havoc on the pregnant person’s psyche, so we try not to mention it to the patient at all.”
“Is that why you put me in a coma for two years,” Tallum bites out.
“Well, not only that. We do it for your physical body as well. By putting you in a coma, we decrease your mobility. Being pregnant for such a long time with such a large child becomes stressful to the body and in turn the child. Being in a coma is what’s best for you both.”
Tallum involuntarily smiles. She becomes a well and laughter splurges out of her. “Best-ha-ha-Best? Best-ha-for-Best-ha-ha-for us-Best for us both ha-ha-ha,” and she cannot stop laughing.