Chapter 8: Don't Do This

Vanessa

I sit in the hospital waiting room with Grandpa Delta and Isley. Grandma Suzy-May's doctor left minutes ago. However, the person from the financial department sits with us.

"It's an elective procedure," he says, looking through his notes. "Of course, it's needed, but medicare doesn't think it's vital to Mrs. Martin's health."

"So, who can we appeal to, Mister?" Grandpa Delta asks, sounding frustrated.

"We can try," the financial counselor says, shaking his head. "It's tough."

"Listen," Grandpa Delta points at him, "explain everything again. Why is the surgery important to the doctors but not the health insurance?"

I don't want to hear the same thing for the fifth time.

"Excuse me," I tell them, heading for the exit.

Once I walk to the elevator, I realize I'm not alone.

Isley's following me.

"Are you alright?" He punches the "down" button.

"I can never understand why Grandpa must hear the same explanation fifty million times," I say with a sigh.

We enter the elevator and don't speak until we're in the hospital lobby.

"She's going to be alright," Isley tells me, patting me on the back.

I nod.

My mind's not on grandma right now. I'm still thinking about Brent and his offer. What's wrong with in vitro?

"Spill it, Isley says, taking a cigarette from his pack. "What did Mr. Halladay want?"

I follow Isley outside.

He lights his cigarette once we're across the street from the hospital.

"Well?" Isley prods.

"He wants to hire me as his surrogate."

"Surrogate?" Isley puffs on his cigarette. "Hmmm. How much money? A couple of grand?"

"Ten million dollars," I answer, quickly saying, "I turned him down."

Isley's eyes widen. It looks like their going to fall out of their sockets. "You did what?"

I shrug.

The sun hovers over us, making me squint. I shield my eyes with my hand. "It makes total sense, Isley."

"If you're insane," he says, waving his hands. "Ten million—"

I interrupt, "Mr. Halladay wants this baby the biblical way."

"Biblical?"

"Yes, sex—"

"I know what it means," Isley interrupts. "I'm wondering why you care."

"Sex, marriage, and love go together."

Isley shakes his head. "Yeah, in romance novels and TV movies, not real life. If that were the case, I wouldn't be here."

His comment reminds me of my conversation with Brent. I shrug. "Men think differently."

"No way," Isley says. "He wants to have sex with you. Who cares? Women have sex with a guy for a lot less."

"I wasn't raised that way," I tell him.

Isley drops his cigarette into the ashtray. "I'm telling you, please reconsider. You're not in the best financial situation, and that money will set you—"

"I choose money over morals," I interject, feeling lost.

"Morals aren't going to pay for Suzy-May's surgery."

Good point. I rub the back of my neck.

"If you take the money, think about the things you can do." Isley slaps his hands on his thighs. "Is it too late?"

"Too late?" I frown.

"You told him no," he says, "you can tell him yes."

I shake my head. "I have twenty-four hours to give him my final answer."

Isley fist pumps. "We're in business. Call, tell him you've changed your mind."

Although I open my mouth to speak, I stop.

"Suzy-May's surgery."

I shake my head. Am I the only sane one in this insane world?

****

I'm getting sick of this Navy blue suit.

Another interview.

This time, the job is data entry. I'm confident I'll get the job more than during my interview with Brent.

Brent.

As I sit in the outer office of, hopefully, my future employer, I think about Brent's offer.

Why do I see things so differently than Isley and Brent?

I'm pretty sure if I spoke to a woman about it, she would have my perspective on the issue, not theirs.

"Ma'am, are you finished completing the application," the secretary asks, pointing at the clipboard.

I nod and take the application over to her desk.

The secretary tells me, "Mrs. Walsh will be with you shortly?"

Sighing, I return to my seat and retrieve my phone from my purse.

I shouldn't do this, but Isely is making me feel guilty.

Grandma Suzy-May needs surgery.

I have a plethora of bills.

Morals can't pay for any of those things, right?

I call Brent's number.

Linda answers, "Benson and Brash."

"Uh, may I talk to Mr. Halladay?"

"Who’s calling?"

"Vanessa Martin."

"He's not here," Linda sweetly sings. "Would you like to leave a message?"

No.

I bite my bottom lip. "Yes."

"I'm ready."

"Please tell Mr. Halladay that I need an extension on his deadline because my grandmother is ill," I explain.

Linda cheerfully says, "Will do. Bye now."

"Vanessa Martain."

I look up and see an older woman holding a clipboard. She searches the outer office as if a group of people is in it. However, I'm the only one in the office besides the secretary.

I stand and smile.

She looks past me.

****

My interview with Mrs. Walsh is almost over, and I know I'm getting the job.

Mrs. Walsh asks, "What is the best asset you'll bring to this job?"

"My ability to be a team player," I pause to smile, then I continue, "data entry may seem like a solo task, but it involves everyone doing their part to ensure everything is correct."

"Well, Ms. Martin," Mrs. Walsh says, closing my file, "I'm extremely impressed with your references and answers today."

"Thank you."

She opens my file again, reading something. "Um, we filled the third shift position you applied for, but we have a first shift available. Would you like that one?"

My shoulders sag. The first shift doesn't work for me.

Isley works the first shift. He's able to sit with my grandparents overnight.

"Ms. Martin," she interrupts, her voice softening, "the pay is actually higher because we've traditionally had a harder time filling the daytime positions."

"I care for my grandparents. So, the third shift is ideal for their schedules," I hesitate, my emotions taking a deep dive into the abyss. I need this job. "Is there a way I can switch with another employee on the night shift?"

Mrs. Walsh frowns. "I'm afraid not."