Page 20 of The Surrogate Nanny
I thought of all the missed opportunities—the tender moments I’d never get back. I missed her birth. I’d never be able to relive Nori taking her first breath or cry. I could barely contain my excitement when Simone entered the final stretch. I stayed up most nights, too keyed up to sleep. Instead, I spent the nights inventorying my baby supplies. I counted the boxes of diapers and wipes stacked in the corner of the nursery, wondering how long my small hoard would last. I researched extensively which nipples and bottles were preferred by babies and couldn’t decide, so I ordered an array of them of all shapes and sizes. Her newborn onesies were washed in baby-friendly laundry detergent and hung in a color-coded row. I had enough clothes to last her until she was three and had them laundered, folded, and stored in plastic storage bins. I had enough stuffed animals to make a carnival jealous and enough pacifiers to wear one on each finger like a ring. Everything was top-of-the-line; car seat, stroller, highchair, crib, rocking chair—you name it. They were the Volvo of baby essentials and worth every penny.
My cheeks heated as I recalled all the parenting classes I took with expectant mothers. I was the only male in attendance, and the mothers assumed I was gay and adopting. I didn’t correct them because I didn’t want their pitied pouts and words of condolences. It was easier that way.
Nori grabbed my attention again when she banged on her tray for more blueberries. I sprinkled a few on the blueberry-stained top and watched them roll on the tray.
“This week has not gone as expected. Truthfully, I don’t know what I expected—a happily ever after that I don’t deserve, I guess. But...I may have been in a coma, and I may have missed your birth and many other firsts, but I’ve always loved you. Hell, I still have your very first sonogram folded in my wallet. Your mother is a very exceptional woman—no one can convince me otherwise. She carried you for nine months and took you in as her own. What am I saying? Despite the uncanny resemblance, you are hers...more than mine. I think...I believe your mother will share custody with me. I couldn’t see her doing to me what I did to her, but on the off chance that she deems I’m unforgivable and that you’re better off with her, then I’ll have no choice but to oblige. I’m not a parent, maybe in name, but a true parent understands sacrifices and doesn’t make the mistake that I did. My selfishness caused you suffering. I apologize, Nori. Whatever happens, I’ll always be here for you, your mother included. Neither of you will want for anything. I hope it’s enough to right my wrongs.”
Chapter Eleven
Simone
I think I’m losing my mind.
My fingers wrapped around the wine bottle’s neck as I gazed at my fate—the carefully lined-up pill bottles. I figured I’d take an assortment. I could swallow all of them down with a few gulps of wine. Maybe my actions were drastic. Perhaps I was pitiful, but since Nori left, I felt stuck in one of those thriller movies where the main character relives a horrible day over and over.
I stared at the pills and felt nothing. My heart was empty, but she consumed my mind. I thought I’d be desperately crying and screaming—making one last ditch effort to see her, but shockingly I felt peace—acceptance.
It’s finally about to be over. I’m here with pills galore. I’m not happy. I’m not sad. I’m nothing. And nothing will stop me. Nothing can intervene at this moment but me. A part of me is screaming under it all...stay alive. You’ve only got one life. Things may get better tomorrow. You can win the lottery, or Anthony could be hit by a truck and die for real this time—anything can happen tomorrow, but you have to live to see it.
I sighed and pressed Nori’s favorite stuffed elephant to my nose. I closed my eyes and inhaled her sweet baby scent. I fucked up. I shouldn’t have gotten attached. I shouldn’t have brought her home. I had done my job. I did what I was paid to do—carry her for nine months. If she went to foster care, then that wasn’t on me. I shouldn’t have gotten attached because I wouldn’t be here if I had never loved her.
I’d never been one for attachments. My parents died when I was young, friends never stuck around for long, and the one serious boyfriend I did have kicked me to the curb as soon as I gave him my virginity. Nothing had ever attached me to life until I had Nori. Like a Marine, I had to be the best I could be for her. When I carried her, I ate right, exercised, caressed her, sang, and read to her. I wanted to live my best for her, even then, even when she wasn’t mine. And then she came...and she was mine. I wanted her life to be exemplary. I wanted—no—I needed her life to be better than mine ever was. It had to be filled with beauty, love, and laughter. I wouldn’t be satisfied until she had all that and then some.
I think I did well. She seemed...happy.
Why is there no word for what a mother becomes when her child is gone? I’m used to being an orphan, but what is this?
I unscrewed the bottles, dumped out the pills, and mixed them like I was about to play a round of Dominoes. It was 9:00 AM. The birds were chirping, and the sun was shining.
It’s 9:00 AM. The birds are chirping, the sun is shining, and I’m going to kill myself.
“It’s a beautiful day to die,” I said before scooping up a handful of pills and dumping them into my mouth.
Knock!
The sudden intrusion forced me to spit out my concoction.
“Who is it?” I demanded irritably.
“It’s Jonathan Baker...Mr. Powell’s attorney.
“Go to Hell. You helped take my daughter away from me, you piece of shit!”
“Ms. Livingston, what if I said I could reunite you with Nori?”
Reunite me with Nori?
I ran to the door and edged it open. “What?”
“I’d like to discuss the matter further with you. Preferably out of the sweltering heat. May I come in?”
I glanced back at the pills on the table.
Shit.
“Give me a moment.” I shut the door without waiting for a response and grabbed a towel from the kitchen. I haphazardly swiped the pills into the towel and disposed of them and the wine.
A few moments later, Jonathan Baker, crooked lawyer to baby snatcher Anthony Powell, sat at my kitchen table. He opened his luxury briefcase. My lips turned down as I wondered how much it cost. It was probably worth a few months’ rent.