The Surrogate

After she finished with the professor, Esther found a deli selling homemade pies. Sitting alone, she savored each bite to the best of her ability, but she ended up buying an extra slice to go.

That evening Esther ate it at home with her dinner. Esther had carefully curated her apartment as part of her own job. She had always been one to stay in rather than go out, but the pride of her success on this project kept her at home more than anything.

Being one of her first jobs in New York, Esther had been hired by a local flipper who had bought the brownstone in a gutted condition. Looking to divide into three apartments, Esther took to the task of getting open floor plans, while maintaining the historic value of the home. The exterior walls were exposed brick, which had been painted milk white to match the accent walls. The pine floors were restored to their original condition after stripping off some lead paint left from decades before. Plus, the tall thin windows let light stream in from the city, and gave a magnificent view of Prospect Park. It made the space feel large and bright as her designs gave each space in the main room a defined area.

The compact kitchen was against the far wall adjoined to her bedroom, complete with the luxury of a tiny dishwasher. The counter between two of the windows boxed in that area and gave space for a large farmhouse-style sink instead of the typical coffee-mug-sized sinks seen in New York. It also gave her a place to sit, eat, and work at the counter where she could look out the window easily from the colorful stools her daughter had painted cherry red.

An extendable dining table divided her living room from the kitchen under a vintage chandelier she had found in a flea market in Queens. The white Moroccan rug underneath she found at an estate sale in New Jersey. Even though the table was only set for two, it could fold it out for six, but that only ever happened on Thanksgiving. Otherwise, it sat largely untouched because most of the life in that apartment was done on the long tufted couch.

If Esther had nothing else, she would have that sofa. Its navy blue linen fabric was so soft to the touch, but held up to the years of coffee spills and movie marathons. Being eight feet long, Esther could lay flat like a board on that piece of furniture and still have room to move up or down. She remembered crying when it was finally delivered the day she began staging the apartments for rent, and confirmed her belief that she needed to rent one of those three apartments. Grace built a life in that house.

Taking up the top floor that used to be a former library, Grace covered the window sills in little potted plants. Esther hung her daughter’s watercolors and sketches from school in the main room. They lined the old bookshelves on the walls of both their rooms in trinkets from their past life. Esther even found a sunflower yellow trunk to serve as a coffee table and companion to that beautiful sofa.

It wasn’t grand like Archie’s mansion, but it was home.

Sitting in front of the television on her cherished sofa, she watched a crime show as she ate her butternut squash lasagna and pie. She wanted to cry over how good the crust was on the flaky dessert, and she wanted to cry at the commercial using a litter of kittens. Wiping her eyes, her phone began to vibrate with a familiar name lighting up the screen.

“Archie,” she answered.

“Essie,” Archie’s voice chimed back. “What are you doing?”

“Eating. What are you doing?”

“Well, I was hoping I could take you out to a late dinner, but it seems I am too late.”

Esther decided that she wanted to fudge the truth.

“I haven’t had dessert. There’s a good place over in Park Slope that serves cheeseburgers after nine o’clock and I like their cake. They have a good panna cotta too.”

“I do love panna cotta.”

Esther smiled to herself, glad she still remembered his dessert preferences even if they were a bit abnormal. Forty minutes later, they were entering the tiny American bistro on Brooklyn’s Seventh Avenue. Esther had wrapped up her hair in black silk that matched the soft wrap of her jersey dress, which in turn matched the blue color of Archie’s loosened tie. His navy suit was a bit rumpled from the day, and his eyes were tired looking at their corners.

The place was just populated enough to be warm with the heat of others, but not too noisy for soft conversation. The lighting had been dimmed for the night, while leaving soft candlelight to illuminate the tables. Greenery decorated the bar with vines climbing downward and across the brick walls. It was prototypical for Brooklyn aesthetic these days, and while Archie seemed amused by the restaurant Esther had seen it time and again. Still, she loved their burger.

Tucked in a corner, Esther placed her order for a virgin cocktail and a cheeseburger, while Archie ordered a Cuttlefish dish with a beet salad starter that gave Esther a churning feeling in her stomach. The waitress brought them a bottle of still water for the table, and left them in peace.

“You shouldn’t give into your cravings, Essie, but I never was good at refusing you.”

Esther smiled. “Well, we can say I’m making up for the breakfast I lost this morning.”

“Morning sickness already?”

Esther shrugged. “Well, I had it early on with Grace as well. If it is anything like my first pregnancy, I will be done with sickness in about a couple weeks. Really, I’m going to want to eat everything I see for the next nine months. I will probably turn into a human equivalent of an empty pit.”

Archie smiled at the levity, but stiffened as he heard the name of the young girl, saying politely, “How is Grace doing at school?”

Esther could tell that Archie was still getting used to the idea of the life she had before. His earnest expression also told her he was trying his best.

“She has a concert that she’s starting to prepare for. I will be leaving the second week of December to go see it and collect her for winter break. If you want to come for the concert, I am sure Grace would be happy to have some extra support in the audience. It is her first with the school’s symphony, so I can tell when we video chat that she has her trepidations about the whole thing.”

“She plays cello, right?”

Esther smiled, happy he remembered their conversation about her daughter. “Um, yeah. She picked it up at age six after seeing one at the music day camp we sent her to, and she has loved every moment with it.”

“I bet she gets it from you.”

Esther shook her head. She and Josh had talked about that through every lesson and phase. Grace had adored opera as a preschooler. She listened to ballet music on stereos. When other girls in her class loved pop stars, she had studied Debussy and Chopin.

Even as Esther sat there in the Brooklyn restaurant she was certain of her response. “I don’t know where she got it from, but I promise you it wasn’t me.”

“Do you know if she needs anything? My own family has a collection of instruments here at the house. My father aspired to be creative as a younger man, so the room came from that fruitless venture.”

“I remember a stint with a harp.”

Archie chuckled. “Oh god, don’t remind me.”