Her Last Wish Read Free Page A

luck in actually obtaining
one. I had heard back from all but two. I’d been turned down by each of them.
    After only a few
minutes in the coffee bar, my phone rang. My caller ID displayed the number for
Surrogate Solutions, one of the two agencies that I hadn’t heard from. I could
barely contain my excitement. I hoped they had good news for me.
    “Hello?” I asked.
    “Yes,” stated a
high-pitched female voice on the other end. “I’m looking for Connor Mason.”
    “This is Connor.”
    “Mr. Mason, this is
Samantha at Surrogate Solutions. We received your application for a surrogate,
and I need to get more information from you before we can continue with the
process. Are you available to answer these questions?”
    “Of course,” I replied.
I was always a bit shocked that they would even ask if I had time to do
something so simple as answer questions for something so important. Of course,
I had time. I had all the time in the world for this. This had to happen. “Do I
need to come in, or do you want to ask over the phone? I'm free whenever.”
    “Over the phone is
fine. If now is good, I’ll just jump right in, then.”
    “Yeah, now is great.”
    “Perfect. So, you left
your family status blank. Are you single, married …?”
    I directed my gaze out
the window next to me. It was the question I could never bring myself to answer
on paper. I had a hard enough time answering it in my head. Writing it down
felt too official, made it far too real. It figured that they would all need me
to actually fill it in. “I’m a widower.”
    Through the phone line,
I could hear her typing on a keyboard. “I see. So are you in a stable,
committed relationship outside of marriage?”
    “No. It’s just me.” I
never understood why they would ask that. If I were in another relationship,
wouldn’t it make more sense to just let my new significant other do it? It
would have been infinitely easier. Why wouldn’t they automatically see that? It
seemed obvious to me. Maybe I was mistaken?
    I tried to focus on more
specific things outside. I watched the students pass by. I observed the late
spring flowers along the walkways. I tried to find anything, any small, petty
detail, to keep me from breaking down in the middle of the coffee bar. I had to
be strong. That was how men were supposed to act, right? Plus, I couldn’t let
the students see me get too upset. It was unprofessional in the eyes of my
superiors, and even if it weren’t, my students would eat me alive in class
after any signs of weakness had been shown to them. Once I thought about it, I
probably should have stepped outside or, better yet, walked to my car. But it
was too late by that point.
    “Are you requesting a
traditional surrogate, then?”
    “Traditional?” I had no
idea what that meant. I hadn’t gotten far enough in the other interviews to respond
to inquiries on the procedure, itself.
    “A traditional
surrogate would act as both egg donor and surrogate.”
    “No. I have the egg. I
have the doctor. I only need someone to carry it.”
    Her constant typing was
starting to drive me mad. It was even worse that her voice seemed far less
enthusiastic than when I answered the phone. She continued, anyways. “I see you
work for the college.”
    “Yes.”
    “Do you work 5 days a
week?”
    “Six. Sometimes seven.”
    “I see.” More typing.
    I couldn’t let her take
that as something negative. “I can choose my hours at the beginning of each
term. If I need to work fewer hours, I can.”
    “Of course.” But she
didn’t sound as if it had made any difference.
    I didn’t need to see
her face to see how this call was going to end. It would be exactly the same as
the others. My spirits plummeted.
    “Well, that’s all the
questions I have for you today. Our agency will give you a call within five to
ten business days. Do you have any questions for our agency that I might be
able to answer?”
    “I do.” I didn’t want
to ask, but I couldn’t