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Authors: Erica Chilson
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her to give her a sip of water. I dab her chin where she dribbled some that didn’t make it past her lips.
“I’m Grant. I believe you’ve met my sister , Adelaide.” Grant sits at the edge of the bed and takes her hand. I walk backwards to the door not wanting to intrude on their conversation.
“How is your sister? I have n’t seen the girl in months. I was worried that they weren’t getting along anymore.” Grants eyes tighten around the edges when he hears that his sister won’t visit. I leave them not wanting to hear what they talk about.
I sit on the couch and begin to worry as I watch the time tick on our cheap, plastic wall-clock. The minute-hand is broken and now shorter than the hour-hand. The ink on most of the numbers has faded to a pale gray. I stare at the second-hand as it makes its twenty-seventh revolution around the numbers. The ominous tick… tick… tick… of my life changing by the second drowns out any noise from the building or street. It becomes deafening.
“What took so long?” I ask Grant when he sits next to me on the ratty couch. It’s clean, but I’m embarrassed to see his designer clothing si tting on something that should be on the curb for garbage collection. I blush when I realize that he’s sitting on my bed with me as I had last week with him on his.
“Since you wouldn’t listen to my proposition I asked for permission with your mother. To say she wasn’t pleased is an understatement. I didn’t want to upset her, but she wants you taken care of. She wants to know that you have security before she parts our earthly plane. She gave permission when I told her what my Father has in store for you if you don’t come willingly,” he says miserably.
He tries to hold my hand. The innocent gesture of his fingers on my skin lights me up and I hate it. I hate that I react to someone I should despise. I despise everything he stands for. Most importantly, I shouldn’t respond like this with my dying mother in the next room. Why should I get pleasure while all she feels is pain? Why should I enjoy anything when she will cease to exist?
I pull my hand away and tuck it under my thigh where he can’t get to it. It doesn’t matter because he places his hand on my knee anyway. It isn’t sexual. I can tell he means it as a comforting gesture; one that will connect us as he tries to talk to me. But my body is making more out of it than it should. I disgust myself.
“I don’t want anything from you, Grant. I wouldn’t even accept my scholarship if it wasn’t for the fact that I earned it. I don’t want a handout. I sure as hell don’t want one from a Whittenhower.”
“You have to surrogate for me and my wife. There is no other option. I wish I hadn’t shown any interest in you. When Albert reported to my Father that you were in my bedroom he read too much into it. He won’t back down and the consequences will be yours.” His blue eyes try to seek mine out and I glare at him. He’s weak for not standing up to his father and wife. I don’t like weakness.
“I have two jobs and a scholarship. I have goals in life that I wi ll reach. I just turned eighteen. I’m too young to have a baby, especially someone else’s.”
He doesn’t say anything. He just sits beside me on the couch. We both wait for the other to speak as we stare at the clock. When thirty minutes pass es he speaks.
“I will pay you for your services. You can go to school and still reach your dreams- only faster.” He tries to reason with me. He tries to find that one thing that will make me say yes.
“I’ m not whoring myself out. I know that I won’t truly be a whore, but it’s basically selling my child. I don’t like how Whitt is being raised, why would I allow my child to grow up like that?”
“It’ s a great sacrifice. I realize this. My father and Cora do not see it as that. I don’t think like them. I know you see me differently than I am, Regina. I am as much a victim to their
“I’m Grant. I believe you’ve met my sister , Adelaide.” Grant sits at the edge of the bed and takes her hand. I walk backwards to the door not wanting to intrude on their conversation.
“How is your sister? I have n’t seen the girl in months. I was worried that they weren’t getting along anymore.” Grants eyes tighten around the edges when he hears that his sister won’t visit. I leave them not wanting to hear what they talk about.
I sit on the couch and begin to worry as I watch the time tick on our cheap, plastic wall-clock. The minute-hand is broken and now shorter than the hour-hand. The ink on most of the numbers has faded to a pale gray. I stare at the second-hand as it makes its twenty-seventh revolution around the numbers. The ominous tick… tick… tick… of my life changing by the second drowns out any noise from the building or street. It becomes deafening.
“What took so long?” I ask Grant when he sits next to me on the ratty couch. It’s clean, but I’m embarrassed to see his designer clothing si tting on something that should be on the curb for garbage collection. I blush when I realize that he’s sitting on my bed with me as I had last week with him on his.
“Since you wouldn’t listen to my proposition I asked for permission with your mother. To say she wasn’t pleased is an understatement. I didn’t want to upset her, but she wants you taken care of. She wants to know that you have security before she parts our earthly plane. She gave permission when I told her what my Father has in store for you if you don’t come willingly,” he says miserably.
He tries to hold my hand. The innocent gesture of his fingers on my skin lights me up and I hate it. I hate that I react to someone I should despise. I despise everything he stands for. Most importantly, I shouldn’t respond like this with my dying mother in the next room. Why should I get pleasure while all she feels is pain? Why should I enjoy anything when she will cease to exist?
I pull my hand away and tuck it under my thigh where he can’t get to it. It doesn’t matter because he places his hand on my knee anyway. It isn’t sexual. I can tell he means it as a comforting gesture; one that will connect us as he tries to talk to me. But my body is making more out of it than it should. I disgust myself.
“I don’t want anything from you, Grant. I wouldn’t even accept my scholarship if it wasn’t for the fact that I earned it. I don’t want a handout. I sure as hell don’t want one from a Whittenhower.”
“You have to surrogate for me and my wife. There is no other option. I wish I hadn’t shown any interest in you. When Albert reported to my Father that you were in my bedroom he read too much into it. He won’t back down and the consequences will be yours.” His blue eyes try to seek mine out and I glare at him. He’s weak for not standing up to his father and wife. I don’t like weakness.
“I have two jobs and a scholarship. I have goals in life that I wi ll reach. I just turned eighteen. I’m too young to have a baby, especially someone else’s.”
He doesn’t say anything. He just sits beside me on the couch. We both wait for the other to speak as we stare at the clock. When thirty minutes pass es he speaks.
“I will pay you for your services. You can go to school and still reach your dreams- only faster.” He tries to reason with me. He tries to find that one thing that will make me say yes.
“I’ m not whoring myself out. I know that I won’t truly be a whore, but it’s basically selling my child. I don’t like how Whitt is being raised, why would I allow my child to grow up like that?”
“It’ s a great sacrifice. I realize this. My father and Cora do not see it as that. I don’t think like them. I know you see me differently than I am, Regina. I am as much a victim to their
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