I slept soundly and alone until around midnight. I wasn't sure if the thunderstorm woke me or if it was a gradual intensifying of my subconscious thoughts that provoked me from slumber.
I slipped into my secret corridor, stopping halfway along to watch lightning strikes hitting enormous rods projecting upward from New York's tallest buildings.
Rain lashed my window, beading quickly and running down the glass like rivulets of icy cold, but although I shivered, wearing only a pink with gold lace silk negligee, I knew it was warm outside.
In my study room, I pulled a few books from the shelf and began reading case law about surrogacy. I needed to brush up and understand where my life was headed regarding potential pitfalls.
A heavy knock at my study room door startled me, and I lifted my head from a book, seeing drool that had dribbled onto the wooden desk surface while I slept.
It was 7 a.m., and I'd fallen asleep.
I shuffled to the door, still half asleep, opened it, and was surprised by the beaming woman on the other side, wearing her gym attire.
"Hi, Amy. I worried you didn't show up at the gym this morning. Is everything okay?"
"Hannah... yeah, sorry, hi. I feel drowsy. Can you give me an hour, please?"
"Make it two because I need to finish my session. Maybe I'll see you in the kitchen later for coffee."
"Yeah, maybe."
Fuck, why did I agree to meet?
I had University lectures starting mid-morning and needed time to revise beforehand, so I quickly showered and groomed, availing myself of the beautiful study gift and getting up to speed on a lecture about indigenous people's rights.
Wearing my signature jeans with a pink t-shirt and sneakers, I got to the kitchen a few minutes after Hannah had, considering the wisdom of that choice, as soon as I saw her looking a little sad.
"Late studying last night, Amy?"
"Yeah, and I have to revise again now, so I have about half an hour before I leave for lectures."
"I missed you this morning at the gym."
"After one meeting?"
"Sorry, yeah... it's kinda lonely here, and I felt we connected."
I can't connect with you.
"Do you have any friends, Hannah?"
"Only athletes, so the conversation usually revolves around cadence, calorific intake, and which coaches hit on you the most."
"Sounds awful. Do coaches hit on you a lot?"
"Yep. They see the body, like the face, enjoy the engagement in personal matters like my menstrual cycle and hormone levels, and then dive right in feeling that I must need comforting and support."
"I'm sure yoga pants have prompted many pregnancies."
"Yeah. Maybe you should wear them all day."
She giggled nervously, and I followed suit politely, but I strictly applied my prime directive, steering clear of any discussion that probed deep into her business or mine.
Don't become friends, Amy.
"Could we become friends, Amy?"
Oh fuck!
"Umm, Hannah... it's not that I wouldn't like to. You're an iconic sportswoman I greatly admire, but surely you must see a conflict of interest."
"In what way?"
"Okay, let's try honesty. You want to become my friend because you're lonely but also to bring you closer to Victor."
"That's true in the first part, not so much in the second."
I admired her honesty and that Hannah's body language and expression showed no defensiveness or hostility. I wasn't calling her out, but being forthright was the only way to survive in this eclectic, almost bizarre household.
"It doesn't mean we can't be friends, although I know Victor would prefer me to leave."
"And there you have it, Hannah... it's none of my business, and what you just said is completely innocent girl talk, but it's kryptonite for me."
"Isn't that a tad dramatic?"
"I don't think so."
"Can you spell it out for me, Amy, because it just feels hurtful."
I sipped my coffee, thinking of the best analogy to make my point. Hannah was a lovely person I didn't want to hurt, but it increasingly occurred that I was the only one in the household fully considering my child's needs.
"When I leave here, Victor and I will stay in touch. If my child ever has a medical emergency and doctors need to understand my history or, god forbid, an organ donor is required, I can step up."
"What does that have to do with befriending me?"
"That's the only contact I want to have with my child."
"I still don't see the connection with my problem that you won't become a friend."
"If my child wants to know me when they reach adulthood, there are provisions in Victor's contract with me to provide for that. It will be their choice."
"Okay, and you're worried a friendship between you and me might prompt that?"
"Exactly. You and I become friends for the next year, and then twenty years after that, you're sitting here with my child, spinning yarns about my pregnancy, telling them how wonderful I am."
"Prompting her to track you down?"
"Her?"
"You'll have a daughter, Amy. I'm certain of it."
"I doubt I'm even pregnant yet."
"You're ovulating, though. Through my sport, I'm an expert in women's menstrual cycles, so I can tell. When is your next period?"
"Thirteen days from now."
"You're at the height of fertility."
Exactly the conversation I didn't want to have.
"Forgive me; I must leave now, Hannah."
"I want you to know I'm weaning myself off Victor."
"Okay, but It's none of my business sweetie."
I almost sprinted away from Hannah, careful neither to befriend or offend. When Greg pulled the car out front, and I slipped in, the early morning rush hour gave me time to think.
I need to manage sex with Victor and my cycle a lot better.
This month is probably a washout, but I should try harder and fuck him more frequently.
That's why he wants me to control our sexual contact.
How could I be so obtuse? He made the point over and over.
I cursed my lack of preparedness, resolving to figure out a copulation calendar to discuss with Victor. At school, I went directly to the empty lecture hall assigned, took up residence in the middle, and began revising a few final points of law.
The class discussed First Nation rights using Australia, rather than our own country, as a case example. Professor Henderson was a favorite scholar of mine and pointed at me, always keen to drag his students into the debate.
"Why am I using Australia for this study example, Amy?"
"We are mostly Americans and have formed opinions around our specific cultural challenges regarding indigenous rights."
"Absolutely correct. Anything else?"
"The situation in Australia is very different, which adds complexities, frictions, and possible litigious aspects we don't have here."
"Profoundly correct, my dear. Well done."
Our lecture went well, and his cheerleading squad surrounded Professor Henderson at the end as I gathered my things to leave. He raised a hand, waving at me, shouting across the hall.
"Amy, could you meet me in my study, please?"
I nodded and left by the side entrance, walking an extended access corridor to his sanctuary amid a row of academic and small study library dens. I let myself in, as was his standing instruction to all students.
His study was a disaster zone, with papers strewn across every desk, dozens of books open at specific reference pages, and piles more on the floor.
He arrived after ten minutes, shook my hand, and sat behind his desk, looking studiously at me.
Please don't.
"Don't breastfeed this baby. Doing that will make it impossible for you to let go."
Oh dear, you did it... here we go.
"I'm not taking advice or opening myself to discussion on the matter, Professor."
"That's why I said it before you rebuffed me."
"Objection, your honor."
"Sustained Amy, however, the jury can't unhear what I said."
"It's true. Can we move on now?"
"Yes, of course. I want you to know that I am available for any online tutorials you need when pregnancy happens. It's free of charge."
"Do you mean if I can't make it into class?"
"Yes. You are my finest student ever. I want to help you any way I can."
"Thank you, Professor."
"You can call me Simon when we're alone. If you ever need help out of hours, please message me first; my husband and I have a pretty hectic social calendar."
"Oh. I had no idea you were gay."
"I don't tell anyone, and the only reason for disclosing that to you now is so you don't worry that my offer is an attempt to hit on you."
"I didn-."
"Amy, you'd be a poor lawyer if you didn't consider it possible."
"Well, okay. Is that all for today?"
"Yes, we're done. Good luck, Amy."
Before I could shut down the discussion, he'd used a classic lawyer trick to make his point. Breastfeeding was an issue; I knew that perfectly well, and the dilemma between giving our child the best start possible with mother's milk or walking away to avoid attachment was occupying some of my thinking time.
Greg hung around near the parking lot at an old Citroen van converted into a coffee shop. He was reading when I slipped in beside him with a small cup of espresso.
"Are you having coffee, Amy?"
"No, but we have plenty of time, so please enjoy yours."
"Thank you."
"What are you reading, Greg?"
"Another biography about Picasso. I study fine art at night school."
"Ahh, a hidden benefit of working for Victor?"
"Yes. He pays my fees and books."
I was getting a vibe that Victor was a philanthropist at heart, both close to home and from a much broader perspective through his foundation doing good work for the homeless that I'd read about.
"I like Picasso's sculptures more than the paintings."
His eyes lit up, and I knew instantly Greg was an art fanatic.
"Most people don't know Picasso was also a fantastic sculptor."
"The University is putting on a show at the Wallach gallery in a few months. Should I get you a VIP ticket?"
