Hand of Thorns (2 page)

Pulling everything out of the freezer for more margaritas, while the remaining of us go through the cupboards, she tells us what she wants to do. "Well, I rented a couple movies and figured that we can drink, talk, and have a relaxing night tonight. Tomorrow we can go over to Venice Beach to walk around, shop, and eat. Then we can end the day going out to Tonic, since Saturday nights are eighteen plus. Sunday we'll do brunch and spend the day doing whatever you ladies want." She starts blending a new drink before anyone can question her plans, but since it's not too far off from something we did the last time, I believe we'll all agree.

"What is that noise?" Penelope asks, once the blender is turned off. We all listen closely.

It sounds like a buzzing. "I think it's someone's phone," Rochelle answers. Immediately everyone digs their phone out of their pockets, except me. Mine's in my purse.

When no one else has any phone calls, I realize it must be mine. I walk over to where I put all my stuff, picking up my purse to look inside. The buzzing starts once more, just before I find the phone. "My mom," I sigh. "She's been blowing my phone all afternoon. I guess I better take it or it'll never end."

I slide the green button over to answer. "Hello?"

"About damn time," she practically yells.

"Sorry, I've had a busy day."

"Where are you?" Her words sound needy and rushed. I hate how desperate she is for another prescription.

I roll my eyes even though she can't see. "At Sumner's beach house."

"You need to come home."

"Mom, I can't. I have had two drinks. I can't drive."

"Then get an Uber."

"Mom. Your prescription can wait until tomorrow." I hate speaking those words out loud where my friends can hear. They know about my mom's addiction, but it's still embarrassing.

"You think I'm going to call you over sixty times for a fucking pill?" She snaps. I hate that she is so ridiculously pissed. "No. Get home. I can't discuss this over the phone. Have one of your friends drive you. Order an Uber. Do something, but you need to get here now. It's urgent."

My palms start to sweat. There is obviously something more happening. "I'll see what I can do."

"Please hurry." This time her voice sounds broken like she's about to cry.

"Mom, what's the matter?"

"I can't tell you over the phone, Monica. You need to come home, please."

"I'll call Dad, I'll see if he can grab me," I tell her. Obviously I need to get home soon. I don't think I've heard her this panicked before.

There is a pause between us, before she adds softly, "Monica. Just get here." She hangs up before there is a chance for more.

Looking towards my friends, they're all staring at me with curiosity. "I need to get home," I tell them. "I think something happened to my dad."

"I'll call Derik. He doesn't live far." Rochelle reaches into her pocket and dials his number. He picks up right off, and says he'll be over in ten.

Since Derik drives a pickup truck which has a bench seat and no back, it’s only Rochelle that can ride with us. Not that it matters. The entire ride home seems to be a blur. Every horrible scenario passes through my mind. I’m suddenly no longer buzzing on alcohol.

Rochelle runs her hand over my leg, whispering motivation to me. "It'll be okay," she says. "Everything is going to be alright." She says many different things over the forty minutes it takes to get to my house, but I don't pay much attention. I stare out the window and wonder to myself why I couldn't bother picking up the phone earlier, or what could have happened, and why.

Before the truck is in park, I open the door and hop out, racing towards the house. Rochelle must've jumped out with me, because as I walk through the door, she is towering next to me. "Mom," I yell. "Mom. Where are you?"

She comes around the corner from the kitchen, a cocktail in her hand. Her face is streaked with tears, her chest blotchy. I can see the shake in her hand while she brings the drink to her lips. "Mom," I jeer. "What is going on?"

Placing down the drink on the hutch in the hallway, she closes her eyes. Rounding the corner with her is a police officer. I didn't notice any vehicles in the driveway, but then again I wasn't paying much attention.

"Miss Rockwell?" He asks dispassionately.

Maybe this has nothing to do with Dad after all. Maybe Mom got caught driving while she was drinking or messed up on pills, I think to myself. With a calmer tone than before, I nod my head. "Yes, I'm Diana's daughter. What is going on?"

I glance back and forth between him and my mom. Rochelle grips my hand forcibly. The officer takes his hat off, holding it close to his chest. "Miss Rockwell, I'm Officer Dunkin. I'm sorry to inform you. It appears your father, Terrance, had a heart attack while at work today. It's unfortunate to say, they couldn't save him."

"Wait, what? He works in a doctor’s office! How could they not save him? What do you mean? What does this mean?" I know what it means, but it doesn't matter. I need more answers. I need to hear this isn't happening.

Rochelle's grip strengthens, and I'm beyond thankful to have her here with me. I glance over at Mom, but she stares over at her drink rather than at me. I look back up to the officer in my home, the one who shattered my heart in a few simple words. "Can you answer me?"

Slowly his head shakes back and forth. "I'm sorry for your loss. If you need anything, I have left my card with your mother. I'm available at any moment."

I'm still bewildered. Frozen. Distraught. I can't think. I can't speak. I can't fathom a life without my father.

"Thank you, Officer Dunkin," Rochelle says after a moment of a deafening silence. "We appreciate your consideration and condolences at this God awful time. If Diana or Monica need you for anything, I'll make sure they give you a call personally." She reaches forward to shake his hand.

He nods his head at Rochelle's thoughtfulness, before looking at me. "Again, my apologies. Someone from Cedars Medical Center should be giving you a call in the next 24 hours to discuss some information. Also, I have connected your mother with a few local funeral homes."

"We can't afford that," I tell him. I'm not sure about a life savings or anything from my Dad, but I know he didn't have much set aside.

"They have aid to assist your family with expenses. If you have any questions, again, please call. I will help in any way I can."

"Thank you," Rochelle chimes in again. "I will help her as well."

He pats my shoulder as he walks on by, leaving us to be alone.

Mom picks up her drink and turns around, heading back towards the kitchen. I shake my head at her, disgusted by the mere fact she couldn't hold her daughter in her arms for comfort, instead she sought comfort for herself by choosing booze over me... again.

Rochelle on the other hand turns me towards her and holds me tight. I don't have tears streaming down my face like my mom had. In fact, I don't even feel the urge to cry. I feel... numb.

Alone.

Useless.

Scared.

I feel many emotions, but I don't feel sad.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," Rochelle whispers. She runs her hand up and down my back to comfort me, except... I'm not so sure I need comfort. I think at this point, I just need to be alone.

Pulling back from her hold, I look towards the living room at our family portrait. I smile at Dad. He sure was handsome. Thinning brown hair with a few gray strands in it, eyes the color of the ocean, and a smile that made you feel happy in an instant. Not to mention, he had a heart made entirely of gold. Maybe I shouldn't think it, but my mind can't seem to wonder why he was the one to pass rather than my mom. She does nothing with her life, and I don't even think she loves me the way a mother is supposed to- but my dad saved lives, he took care of people, he worked endless hours, and he always made sure everyone else's needs came first. It isn't fair for him to leave. Not yet.

"What do you need, Monica? What can I get you?" Rochelle asks.

I look up to see that even she is crying. She's trying to hold it back, I can tell, but the sad fact is that she is crying and I am not. Does that make me heartless?

Swallowing against the pain, I tell her, "I just need to be left alone.”

"I'm not leaving you. You need me. I won’t bother you, I'll keep mum as long as you need, but I am staying here because there will be a moment when you break down, and you'll need me to be the one to help you."

"I said I'm fine," I tell her.

She shakes her head. "Monica. Don't make me be forceful. I'm staying."

With a sigh, I walk towards the living room, grabbing the blanket placed on the back of the couch. Walking over to the rocking chair my dad favored, I wrap myself up in the blanket and stare out the picture window that overlooks the side road I live on.

I have no idea what this means for my future, but I can sense everything I’ve ever known is about to change forever.

It didn't take long to get back into my systematic schedule. In fact, it probably should have taken much longer. One month has passed by, and in those weeks I have not shed one single tear. I have not missed any school except for the day we laid my father to rest. I've put in a few job applications so I can hopefully somehow pay for college next year. I've hung out with my friends a couple times. Although they all try so desperately to be extra kind to me, which makes things awkward, and I end up feeling lonelier with them rather than without.

The good news is that finals are coming up in two weeks before summer vacation begins. Since my life is kind of in a rut, I have tons of extra time to study and focus on anything I choose to. I don't let my mind wander about Dad, I don't let Mom's late night sobs keep me awake, and I don't allow my friends to get me to open up. I read, I write, and I study. Then when I have free time, I try to find a job that will pay for college, or I visit the beach to get some sun.

Today, however, is a gorgeous Saturday afternoon and I have absolutely nothing to do. Sumner has convinced me that I need a day of retail therapy and my nails done. I don't have the money for it, but she insists it's the least she can do for me, and since I know her family can certainly afford the extra credit card charges, I willingly accept. Mainly because I know I sort of need it, too.

I walk into Blackbird, a small cafe that sits downtown. Sumner stands to the side of the counter, typing away on her cellphone. "Hey," I say, trying not to scare her.

She smiles but doesn't look up from her phone. After a second she slides it into her purse. "Hey, sorry. Thanks for meeting me. Hungry?"

I look up at the menu, trying to figure out what I'm in the mood for. "Um, yeah. I'll have a bagel and an all berry smoothie."

Sumner walks up to the cashier, ordering us both food and drinks, then when she gets the tray, we head together outdoors to sit on the sidewalk patio. "So it seems like weeks since I've seen you," she states when we both sit down.

"It's been like five days," I state.

"I know, but seems like forever. How are you feeling?"

I can sense her attempt of trying to be casual, but I know she has an underlining meaning. Giving her a pointed look, I tell her, "Not today. We're not doing this today."

She sighs, rolling her eyes. "I care about you, Monica. I want to make sure you're doing alright."

"I am. I'm out and about, I'm eating and drinking, I'm doing awesome in school. I don't need to talk about it."

"Okay. We won't talk about it. Have you found a job yet?"

"No. I don't know what to do. I got a job offer at Juicy Burger, but they don't have the pay I need. Plus... it's a burger joint."

With a laugh, Sumner shakes her head playfully. "Good. You can do so much better. I can speak with my dad, see if he needs a personal assistant of some kind, or if he knows of someone."

"I want to do this on my own," I tell her.

"It doesn't hurt to ask for help, and you know it."

"I know," I admit shamefully. "Give me three weeks. If I don't find a job for summer vacation, I'll use your resources."

She grins with feat. "Good."

We leave it at that and start in our food. I'm thankful to steer away from my stresses.

"So. I think I met someone,” Sumner states after a few minutes- surprising me entirely.

"What?" I gasp. "No way!"

"Yeah, he is in my Literary and Cultural Analysis course. I've been eyeing him since January when he sat two rows in front of me, but hadn't said anything to me. Mom always told me not to get distracted by boys while I'm pursuing my dreams, but... he's distracted me already. Last week he finally sat next to me and introduced himself. His name is Gunther Allen, and he is fucking gorgeous." I swear her eyes are shaped as hearts as she stares off into space for a second. With a large smile, she glances back at me. "Yesterday he asked to take me out to dinner tonight."

"That is awesome, seriously! I'm so happy for you. About time you thought about more than just your future."

"Yeah. I'm scared to tell my parent's though. They'll be so disappointed."

"Well, I guess it's a good thing it's only dinner and not a date." I wink, causing Sumner to softly chuckle.

After brunch we head downtown to do a little shopping. Mostly window shopping, but Sumner does end up buying me a pair of nice dress shoes and a blouse- stating I'll need them for job interviews- while she buys herself a whole new outfit for tonight, accessories included. Three hours later, our feet are both acing and we decide to grab a couple caffeinated drinks while heading in to get pedicures done.

Sitting down in the padded leather salon chair is beyond relaxing. It's heated and reclines just enough. I soak my feet in the hot water while a soft tune hums from the speakers above us. I melt right into the chair, taking sips of my iced macchiato every now and again. Nothing distracts my relaxation, not even when the nail technician starts to grind away at the dead skin around my large toe.

I listen as she speaks to her neighboring employee, the one who is working on Sumner's feet. They talk about their week together, their tones soft.

"Did you hear about Kelly?" Mine asks in a hushed tone.

"Yes, that she decided to become a surrogate?" The other whispers.

"Yeah, whatever would cross her mind to do that?"

"Money."

"But seriously, being pregnant for nine months, destroying your body, and not even being able to keep the child after? I have a feeling she'll regret it in the long run."

"She gets over four thousand dollars every month until after baby is born, plus medical costs, a retreat, and all this other stuff. Hell, if I didn't have four kids at home, it is something I'd definitely consider. I have to work two jobs and I hardly even make that a month."

I listen with a little more clarity after that statement, but unfortunately I don't get much more information.

"Still," the first nail technician states. "She has no idea what she is getting herself into. The hormones alone are going to wreck her."

"She is strong willed and determined, and putting herself through law school. I say good for her."

Their conversation dies down and I can feel the tension between them.

Peeking over, I think Sumner is pretty well focused on the relaxation part of the whole thing, rather than listening to their conversation such as me. I'm curious what she would think about that. About being a surrogate. In less than a year I could pay off the next three years of college and still have money remaining- well, so long as my Financial Aid still stands.

I try to think of the pros and cons of the situation in my head, but all I see are dollar signs. In an attempt to shake the thoughts from my head, my mind automatically jumps to the idea of being able to give someone a child, while in return making a future for myself- and any future family I may have.

The amount of times I tell myself I'm being ridiculous is close to the amount of times I also wonder if it's the solution to many of the problems that fell into my lap. Maybe I can even save Mom from losing our family home, because Lord knows that she'll probably do nothing except ingest away any money we receive from Dad's life insurance.

By the time our pedicures are done, I've decided that the least I can do is a bit of research. Starting with Sumner's nail technician.

"I need to use the restroom," Sumner states once she's paid.

I use the time as a perfect opportunity. Sneaking around the counter, I cozy up next to the lady who is washing her hands. "Hey," I loudly whisper.

She startles a little, giving me a sideways glance. "Can I help you, Miss?"

"I think so. Does Kelly work here?"

She looks around for a second before nodding her head. "Part time. May I ask why?"

"I wanted to ask her a few questions about surrogacy."

Her face completely contours. She looks concerned now rather than distraught. Wiping her hands on the towel, she gives me a straight look, being quiet with her words. "She'll be here on Monday at ten until closing. I shouldn't have said anything in front of you, but I will give her a heads up you'll be in for questions." She glances me over for a second, biting on her lips nervously. "It's a special gift you can give someone, but keep it noted that in the long run, it can do a lot of damage to you."

"Well the good thing about being young means I can join the gym and get back to normal in no time."

"Bless your heart, but I don't mean ruin your body. Postpartum is a nocuous bitch."

I add that to the cons list mentally. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you."

"Good luck," she states boldly as I walk away. Sumner walks out of the restroom completely clueless about anything going through my mind right now.

"Ready?"

"I am," I answer. "Where to now?"

"I'm thinking about getting my hair done. What do you think? Want your hair dyed?"

"No, but I do have some homework to do, so while you're getting yours done, I can do that."

She grins, pleased by my acceptance to still hang out with her. "Then let's go grab your laptop before we go."

Sitting in the salon, I stay in the back corner, close enough that I can hear Sumner but far enough away that neither of us are a distraction. I don't actually have any homework that needs immediate attention, but I do have research to do. Opening up the browser, I type into the search engine about becoming a surrogate mother in the Los Angeles area. There are many different sites that pop up, all offering better than the last, but too many of them seem too good to be true.

I open up the notepad on my computer and write down different information so I can compare notes later on. A tingling sensation forms in the center of my stomach, not quite butterflies but close. My body telling me that I'm actually considering doing this.

I think of those flutters within me being baby kicks and wonder to myself if that is something I could actually handle. An alien growing inside of me kicking and pushing and punching me all hours of the day and night. Strangers trying to catch a feel whenever I go grocery shopping. It could be interesting, heck it could even be fun. I wouldn't know, as I've obviously never been pregnant.

              Mom doesn't talk much about her pregnancy with me. What I do know is that she tried to get pregnant for so long, with two prior miscarriages that left her nearly defeated. When she found out she was pregnant, she wouldn't let anyone touch her until her third trimester unless it was her doctor, Dad included. I also know that she went four weeks over the due date, so I ended up being a hefty sized infant. The knowledge of my time in her womb is minimal, but I feel like maybe I should ask her about it. Get some insight on how I'll feel and the things I'll need to get used to.

Sumner finishes up minutes after I close my laptop. Her hair is styled with a French braid on one side being pulled into an elegant bun, with a few strands falling all around her head, which are curled loosely. She radiates when she smiles.

"You look amazing. They did a great job," I tell her.

She grins, happy for tonight. "Thanks! I love it, too. I can't wait to see how it looks with my new outfit."

"Then why don't we get back to your house so you can try it on?"

Looking down at her phone, she loses a hint of her smile. "I have just over an hour until he's picking me up, so I should actually drop you back off to your car. I'm sorry."

"No, not a problem at all. I expect a picture of your attire before you go out tonight though. Then I want all the details first thing tomorrow morning."

"Deal."

Sumner hugs me off before I climb out of her car to get into mine. I wish her good luck before closing the door. I'm excited for her to finally attempt sticking her feet into the dating pool. I had encouraged her several times in high school, but she was too scared of being grounded or having her parents in any way object to her decisions. She hasn't even had sex yet. Not that I can say a whole lot about the topic.

I lost my virginity to Dustin during senior prom last spring. He broke up with me three days later. So I've had sex once.

It chewed a chunk of my confidence away, which I didn't have much of anyways. After many tears and conversations with my friends, I chopped it up to a life lesson somehow. We were together most of high school, and he never once encouraged me to sleep with him, even if there were subliminal hints now and again, so I'm not exactly sure what the life lesson is- but that is what we still decided it was.

Sometimes I want to pretend it never even happened. I want to tell my next boyfriend I'm a virgin, because I do feel like one more often than not. I just can't justify lying about it, but I'm not sure I'll feel comfortable enough telling someone I've had sex once with a long term boyfriend then he turned around and broke up with me. Whoever I'm dating I'm sure will think I royally suck in the bedroom, and not the good kind of sucking either.

I sneak through the house once I get home, heading straight for the bedroom. I have a minifridge in my room, my dad had bought it last Christmas in case I had decided to dorm somewhere for college. I pull out some yogurt and Sprite then settle on my bed with my laptop, opening it to do more research on the subject. The more I think about it and the more I keep seeing the numbers pop up on my computer screen, the more I become obsessed with the idea.