The Surrogate

“Everything about that Christmas was pristine. We split our time between Manhattan and the lake house where I grew up. He spared no expense with my happiness. I remember every dinner was extravagant. He spent a small fortune on dresses for me. He bought me jewelry to go with the clothes. I even remember the one red coat Archie gifted me because I liked the look of it in the shop window. He sent my mother flowers to beg forgiveness for my absence at home. He charmed my dad like never before. He took the idea of charm to new heights really, but when it came time for me to go back to school… things changed.

“We spent the night together on New Year’s Eve in a penthouse overlooking Times Square that the family was renovating to sell. I remember the snow. I remember the s*x…” Esther’s voice trailed off for a moment with a small laugh. “After all the effortless charisma for those weeks, he was more awkward than I had ever seen him. God, you should have seen it, Hillary. I mean, I laughed at one point because of something he asked me!”

The friends both laughed then, and Esther took a moment to remember where she was in her story.

She continued. “Archie begged to come with me. He promised he could use connections to get me into an English university, and he knew I had the transcripts to match. He said he would take care of everything if I just agreed, but I had a life in D.C. I had friends. I had an internship for the summer already. I liked my school. As much as I loved Archie that winter, I felt too young to be promising forever, and when I was honest with him he got distant. We said we would keep in touch, but that never works.”

“Did you ever see him?”

“When Mom died, I saw him one last time.”

“I remember you calling me about that.”

Hillary was remembering the summer after they got their graduate degrees just as readily as Esther was. She had been unable to come up for the funeral because of a hurricane, and Esther was newly single. Feeling alone, it seemed heaven sent when Archie showed up in a pristine suit at the end of the visitation line. He was supposed to be at his family’s office in Shanghai, but he set the world aside for her. It was only a day, but it had been the release she needed to be with him again.

One week after the funeral, she was back at her job in D.C. The next day, her boyfriend at the time was at her doorstep with three dozen roses, begging forgiveness and asking to take him back. One month later, Esther was in the United States Virgin Islands with twenty of her closest friends and family getting married to a man who made her feel happy and safe. She did not have to worry about him disappearing at a moment’s notice, no matter how many beautiful things he bought her. Joshua Foster had been the boy-next-door when she moved to Georgia for graduate school. Josh was real, and he was ready to be a part of her dreams.

His soft southern drawl and talent for fixing her car had won her heart. When he had asked her to marry him, she asked for a break, but he came back as soon as he learned of her heartbreaking loss from Hillary. That time, Esther asked him to be her husband, and for eight years he was the perfect husband. He worked as an engineer for the Navy, and she had her work decorating homes for senators and other DC elite. They shared a beautiful daughter Josh named Grace and enough happiness to last a hundred lifetimes.

A car accident changed that for Esther, and Archie did not show up at that funeral.

Grace, now fourteen years old and at the arts school of her dreams in Michigan furthering her mastery of the cello, her child’s passion had somehow forced Esther to face her almost forgotten past. Esther’s life was seemingly circular as she thought of her new future that she would have foreseen all those years ago.

Hillary finally asked as Esther kept unpacking on her companion, “Does Gracie know? I mean, I know you talked to her about the surrogate thing, but does she even know Archibald?”

Esther shook her head. “Not all this. I want to explain it to her when she gets back for fall break this weekend. She knows about Archie being a friend from a long time ago. I remember when we moved to Brooklyn that she told me to look him up, but I was not in the mood to address our time apart. I was not even in the mood to see another person.”

“You were a real hermit back then, but I mean after everything with Josh you earned the right to hide in your bedroom for at least a decade.”

“I know, and maybe I should have kept my distance. I can’t change things, but I am worried about making this work.”

“Well, we can’t have that. That’s not good for you or the baby.”

The baby.

The phrase haloed about Esther’s mind as the idea of it all was still too abstract to sink in. It all seemed more like a dream than real life, but anything dealing with Archie could be described like that. The surrealism itself was familiar.

Esther realized her crappy coffee had dwindled down in temperature to lukewarm at best, and the black metal bench was starting to hurt her butt. Checking her watch, she knew she had some appointments that were with important clients, and Hillary was not free to chat all morning either.

“Hill, as much as I love you, we have jobs to do. It’s going to take me at least thirty minutes to get to my first appointment of the day, and it starts in forty.”

“Okay, but you’re coming over to my house tomorrow so we can talk more about this! My boys are at all something, including my husband being at his bridge club.”

“Can we talk about that too?” Esther interjected as she got up off the bench.

“It’s something he’s doing to spend time with his mother. If something crazy happens, you have to let me know. I spend too much time lugging around my hyperactive children.”

“Well, as they say about the apple….”

Hillary playfully hit her friend. “You’re awful. Love you.”

“Love you too, Hillary,” Esther returned as her partner darted off back toward the office.

Hurrying down toward the nearest subway stop, Esther passed through a pack of tourists as she took the F train uptown to meet with a Columbia Law professor with a loft ready to be molded like playdough. He wanted to shop from rugs, and as he said on the phone “design his new home from the ground up.”

Looking through the Turkish rugs with a man who looked like something out of a 1950s murder mystery, he made polite conversation as he searched for a navy blue carpet that echoed his vision. Esther already knew how she would style and design the rooms. She knew the layout of the kitchen, and had talked prices already with a quartz countertop company to get prices on a few samples she was going to show the professor this afternoon. Work moved like the ocean, it was nice but mostly expected. When he found a rug that was regal blue with scarlet and cream details, they bought it and set it into storage until it could be delivered.

Leading the gentleman across the street, Esther found herself beside a young woman pushing a stroller. Inside was a darling infant bundled up in a cherry red coat. The baby had soft brown curls and pink cheeks. She was enamored with the little teeth the child had, and the color of the baby clothes reminded her of warm cherry pie. Pie with some fresh whipped cream would have been amazing, and her mouth watered as she thought of different kinds of pie.