after a few bites. "Thanks for buying this for us."
She gives me a quick smile while chewing up her shrimp. Once she washes it down, she gives me a sad look. "It's not going to be often that we're able to do something like this, but I am looking for a job so we don't get behind anymore on bills than we have."
I place down my fork and take a deep breathe. I have practiced this several times, I know I can tell her. The counselor told me rehearsing a speech and being straight forward was my best bet, and then to give her time. I thought about buying her a present, but since she's technically not going to be a grandmother, I thought it was kind of mean to do.
"Mom..."
She pauses before taking another bite. "Oh, I didn't mean to stress you. I'll find a job, we'll be fine. Wouldn't hurt you to get a part-time job to help with your college tuition, but I'm not going to ask you to help with the house payment or groceries."
"No, mom. That isn't what I was getting at. I, um... may have found a solution to it all. You're probably going to be upset with me, but I promise I know what I'm doing, and everything will be fine."
"Dammit, Monica, please don't tell me you're selling drugs."
"What? No." I give her a questioning look. I'm not sure why that would be her first assumption. "No," I continue. "I am going to tell you something, but you need to hear me out. Don't judge me, and don't... don't hate me."
"You need to tell me what is going on." Her tone is stern, and she's growing nervous. I have to rip the Band-Aid off.
"I'm surrogating for a couple."
"Oh, no you're not young lady," she starts in immediately.
"But I-"
"No. You are not doing that. You have no idea what it'll do to you. There isn't a justifiable way of life, Monica. The fact you think it's a solution proves you're not mature enough to handle that kind of responsibility."
Ouch.
I stare. My entire speech out the window. My heart racing. My blood boiling.
"It's too late," I blurt out. "I'm already over seven weeks along."
"What. The. Fuck." Mom stands from the table, shaking her head back and forth. "Did you ever think about what that'd do to me, Monica? Are you kidding?" She starts to scream at me, a lot more pissed off than I thought she would be. "This is fucking preposterous! If you think that you're accountable enough to handle that kind of responsibility, then get out of my house. Find your own damn place to live!"
I try to ignore her lashing out. I knew she would, but I didn't think she'd try to kick me out. "Mom," I say with as much plead in my voice as possible. I'm trying to remain calm, while also attempting to calm her down. "Please. Let me explain."
"No." She points her finger in my direction. "I'm trying to better my life, and you're over here ruining yours. Get a fucking abortion, or get out of my house."
Standing from the table, the chair falls back behind me, echoing as it hits the hardwood. I look her square in the eyes, ready to burst into tears but holding them back with all my might. "It's Dad's house, you bitch."
Her hand radiates against my cheek without notice- although I should have seen it coming. It burns intensely. I hold my own hand against it, feeling as it pulsates with pain. "Out. Now."
"Where am I supposed to go?"
"This bitch doesn't care." She turns and storms off. "Thanks for ruining a perfect dinner," she yells as she rounds the corner to her room.
Standing here, I stare down at the table. A part of me wants to clean it all up and put it away so it doesn't go to waste, another part of me wants to smash the dishes on the floor. I'm scared if I start to listen to the first voice, the second one will take over, so before I regret anything more, I head towards my room.
Pulling a duffle bag out from under my bed, I toss it on top of my comforter. Ripping clothes from my closet, I shove them inside. I take more from my dressers. I'm not sure where I'll go, or how long my mom is going to keep me out of the house, but all I know
She gives me a quick smile while chewing up her shrimp. Once she washes it down, she gives me a sad look. "It's not going to be often that we're able to do something like this, but I am looking for a job so we don't get behind anymore on bills than we have."
I place down my fork and take a deep breathe. I have practiced this several times, I know I can tell her. The counselor told me rehearsing a speech and being straight forward was my best bet, and then to give her time. I thought about buying her a present, but since she's technically not going to be a grandmother, I thought it was kind of mean to do.
"Mom..."
She pauses before taking another bite. "Oh, I didn't mean to stress you. I'll find a job, we'll be fine. Wouldn't hurt you to get a part-time job to help with your college tuition, but I'm not going to ask you to help with the house payment or groceries."
"No, mom. That isn't what I was getting at. I, um... may have found a solution to it all. You're probably going to be upset with me, but I promise I know what I'm doing, and everything will be fine."
"Dammit, Monica, please don't tell me you're selling drugs."
"What? No." I give her a questioning look. I'm not sure why that would be her first assumption. "No," I continue. "I am going to tell you something, but you need to hear me out. Don't judge me, and don't... don't hate me."
"You need to tell me what is going on." Her tone is stern, and she's growing nervous. I have to rip the Band-Aid off.
"I'm surrogating for a couple."
"Oh, no you're not young lady," she starts in immediately.
"But I-"
"No. You are not doing that. You have no idea what it'll do to you. There isn't a justifiable way of life, Monica. The fact you think it's a solution proves you're not mature enough to handle that kind of responsibility."
Ouch.
I stare. My entire speech out the window. My heart racing. My blood boiling.
"It's too late," I blurt out. "I'm already over seven weeks along."
"What. The. Fuck." Mom stands from the table, shaking her head back and forth. "Did you ever think about what that'd do to me, Monica? Are you kidding?" She starts to scream at me, a lot more pissed off than I thought she would be. "This is fucking preposterous! If you think that you're accountable enough to handle that kind of responsibility, then get out of my house. Find your own damn place to live!"
I try to ignore her lashing out. I knew she would, but I didn't think she'd try to kick me out. "Mom," I say with as much plead in my voice as possible. I'm trying to remain calm, while also attempting to calm her down. "Please. Let me explain."
"No." She points her finger in my direction. "I'm trying to better my life, and you're over here ruining yours. Get a fucking abortion, or get out of my house."
Standing from the table, the chair falls back behind me, echoing as it hits the hardwood. I look her square in the eyes, ready to burst into tears but holding them back with all my might. "It's Dad's house, you bitch."
Her hand radiates against my cheek without notice- although I should have seen it coming. It burns intensely. I hold my own hand against it, feeling as it pulsates with pain. "Out. Now."
"Where am I supposed to go?"
"This bitch doesn't care." She turns and storms off. "Thanks for ruining a perfect dinner," she yells as she rounds the corner to her room.
Standing here, I stare down at the table. A part of me wants to clean it all up and put it away so it doesn't go to waste, another part of me wants to smash the dishes on the floor. I'm scared if I start to listen to the first voice, the second one will take over, so before I regret anything more, I head towards my room.
Pulling a duffle bag out from under my bed, I toss it on top of my comforter. Ripping clothes from my closet, I shove them inside. I take more from my dressers. I'm not sure where I'll go, or how long my mom is going to keep me out of the house, but all I know
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