3: 3

3.

Not two minutes later, my mother showed up. She let herself into my rented apartment and started laying into me.

"Martha, are you done throwing your tantrum? I'm doing this for your own good! You don't want to carry a child, so Elaine's carrying one for you. You're still the wife. The baby will call you Mom. You lose nothing!"

"She's been so good to you, and you lock her out on the doorstep? Where are your manners? Go apologize to Elaine, right now!"

I didn't answer. All I could think about, suddenly, was my father.

My father had loved me dearly. If he were still here, he would never have stood by and watched something like this happen to me.

I still remember the year he passed, when I was fifteen. He pressed a jade pendant into my palm and told me that from then on, whenever I looked at it, I should think of it as him protecting me.

At the memory, my chest ached in a way I couldn't name, and without thinking I pulled open the drawer of my vanity. The box was empty.

I dumped everything out of the drawer like a woman gone mad, but the jade was nowhere to be found.

"Oh, are you looking for that jade?" My mother's voice came from behind me, matter-of-fact.

"Elaine said she liked it a while back, so I gave it to her. And she told me her morning sickness eased up once she started wearing it. Quite the lucky charm."

My whole body was shaking. I turned to face her. "That's Dad's keepsake!"

But there wasn't a trace of regret on her face. She threw it back at me instead. "It's just a piece of jade. Which matters more, a person or a thing? Isn't Elaine your closest friend? What's wrong with lending it to her to wear for a while?"

I couldn't stand to hear any more of it. I grabbed my phone and rushed out the door, only to find Elaine still standing right outside. She hadn't left at all.

She'd probably heard my mother and me arguing. With a hint of smugness, she tugged the pendant out from under her collar and asked, feigning innocence,

"Martha, why do you keep staring at the pendant on my neck?"

I pointed at it and said flatly, "That's my father's keepsake. Give it back."

Elaine touched the jade, a wounded look crossing her face, and said in an innocent little voice,

"This is your father's keepsake? Your mom didn't say that when she gave it to me. I thought it was just an ordinary piece of jewelry."

"But it really is lucky. My morning sickness cleared up after I put it on. Could you lend it to me for a few more months?"

Listening to her, I clenched my fists until my nails dug into my palms, a piercing sting shooting through my hands. I said it word by word.

"I'll say it one more time. That is the keepsake my father left me. Give it back, now!"

Elaine's eyes went red in an instant, and she put on a helpless little act. "Can I give it back after the baby's born? Taking it off now isn't good for the baby, and you wouldn't hold a grudge against a baby, would you?"

At some point my mother had come up behind me, and she cut in. "If your father were still here, he'd want you settled and married too. What's the harm in Elaine having the jade? Your best friend is having a baby just so you can get married!"

I looked at the jade around Elaine's neck, at the entitlement on my mother's face, and said nothing more.

"All of you, get out!" I all but shoved my mother out of the apartment, snatching the spare key out of her hand as I did.

My mother's scolding carried in from the other side of the door. I slid slowly down against it until I was sitting on the floor, feeling more helpless than I ever had in my life.

The tears fell, one after another. I wiped them away with the back of my hand, but I couldn't stop them coming.

4: 4

4.

Three days later my mother called, saying she wanted to sit down and talk. At home. She said she knew she'd been wrong and wanted to apologize.

When I stood at my own front door, I could smell food cooking.

I pushed the door open and found the living room full of people. Both sets of parents, Clarence, Elaine, all of them there.

The table was covered with dishes, and in the middle sat a printed agreement.

Cassandra Simmons stood, smiling wide. "Martha's here. Come, sit."

My mother pressed me down into a chair, her voice light. "Stop scowling. You've cooled off now, haven't you? We've talked it over. You sign this, and we treat the whole thing like it never happened."

She slid the agreement in front of me.

I glanced down at it.

One. I was to publicly acknowledge Elaine as a "benefactor," and state that her pregnancy was "a decision we made together."

Two. After the child was born, I was to pay Elaine two million dollars in "nourishment" money.

Three. I was to remain childless for life, to guarantee this child's sole right of inheritance.

My mother explained beside me. "See? Mom's thought it all through for you. Once Elaine takes the money, she cuts all ties with the child. The baby is yours and Clarence's, the two of you marry, and everything's perfect."

Elaine rose sweetly and poured me a cup of tea.

"If you're still not at ease, Martha, I can write a written promise. The moment the baby's born, I'll sign him over to your family. I'll never come near you again."

I looked at Clarence. He sat there, silent.

I stood up. My voice was steady. "I won't sign."

"Martha—"

"I said, I won't sign."

I turned and left. No one came after me, because they were sure I'd give in sooner or later.

Back at the rental, before I could even get the door open, a wave of dizziness hit me and I passed out on the doorstep.

Thank God a neighbor called an ambulance.

When I woke, I was lying on a bed in the emergency room, and a doctor came over holding a stack of reports.

"You have severe anxiety disorder, with somatic symptoms."

He flipped to the pages behind, his tone softening into something like advice.

"There's one more thing. Your bloodwork shows traces of long-term use of a powerful contraceptive. The side effects of that kind of drug are severe."

"Because of it, you can no longer bear children. You've also developed breast cancer, though thankfully it's early-stage, still treatable."

I froze. And all at once I thought of the past seven years, of Clarence handing me a cup of warm milk every night, telling me to drink it before bed. To help me sleep, he'd said.

I picked up my phone and sent Clarence a message. "What did you put in the milk you gave me?"

About half an hour later, he replied. "You found out?"

Then a second message. "Contraceptives can fail and you could still get pregnant. I didn't want you to be scared, so I kept giving you the strong stuff."

"But I did it for your own good. I only wanted you to feel more at ease."

For your own good. That line again.

All I felt was nausea and despair, and after I'd cried myself out, the storm inside me slowly went quiet.

I checked out of the hospital and went back to the rental.

I pulled out my suitcase, packed everything, and left with it rolling behind me, without once looking back.

I was leaving this city. Going somewhere none of them would ever find me.