FOUR
Mia managed to get her groceries home before the frozen goods had melted. While the much-anticipated carton of ice cream was a little soft on the sides, she thought it would be okay after a few hours in the freezer.
She went about her chores, loading the washer with the clothes she would need for the work week and cleaning up the dishes from her breakfast that morning. She wasn't in the mood to face more chores, but getting them finished would give her at least a little peace of mind. As she wandered around her house, going from task to task, she began, almost involuntarily, to think about Rami.
It was bizarre that someone like him, with all the money anyone could ever dream of, would ask someone like her-a broke, struggling English teacher-out for coffee; more so that he wanted to see her again sometime. Rami could ask out literally any woman he wanted and probably get a 'yes', Mia thought, as she finally sat down to look over the pile of papers she had still to grade. "He was just being nice. He probably felt guilty for going off on me, or whatever." That made more sense. Figuring that she would probably never hear from Rami again, Mia went about the rest of her afternoon focused on her regular routine.
She was beginning to consider what to make for dinner when she heard her phone ringing. Assuming that it must be her mother, Mia dashed through the living room and into her bedroom where her phone was charging. "Shit, shit, shit," she muttered as it rang a fifth time before she got to it. "Please don't let it be a heart thing. Or a lung thing." When she picked up the phone, however, the screen lit up with Rami's phone number. What could he want to call her about so soon after their semi-date? Mia considered letting it roll over to voice mail, then decided against it; maybe she had left something behind at the caf?-her ID for school, maybe. "Hello?" Mia sank down onto her bed, attempting to cover the breathlessness in her voice.
"Mia! I'm glad you picked up."
"Sorry," she said, with a flash of guilt. "I was on the other side of the house, my phone was charging in my room."
"It's all good," Rami said. For some reason she couldn't quite understand, Mia pictured the well-dressed man leaning back in a chair somewhere, lounging, completely at ease. She shook her head, clearing the mental image away. "I actually wanted to ask you for a favor."
"A favor?" Mia felt irritated. Of course, the only reason Rami had asked her out for coffee, or paid any attention to her at all, was because he had a favor in mind.
"Yeah, I know-I probably should have mentioned it back at the caf?, but it didn't really cross my mind until about an hour ago. Listen, promise me you won't just hang up when you hear what I have to say." Mia pressed her lips together, glancing at her phone in instinctive distrust.
"I'm listening," she said finally, sinking back onto her bed.
"It's kind of a weird favor, so please-just hear me out, okay?"
"I will hear you out," Mia replied. She felt a low stirring of dread at what Rami might be about to ask her. She did owe him, in a certain respect; he had paid for her car repairs-and for more than the damage he had actually done-out of his own pocket. But the accident was his fault. If he hadn't paid out of pocket he would have had to go through insurance. That wasn't a favor-it was for his convenience.
"Okay," Rami said, and for the first time since she'd met him, he actually sounded a little uncertain. "I want you to be the mother of my child."
"What?" The word left Mia's mouth in a near-shriek. "I barely know you!"
"Not-it's okay, Mia. I don't mean like, a baby-mama or anything like that." Mia's mouth opened and closed without any words leaving it. She stared up at her ceiling in shock.
"Maybe you should explain to me what exactly it is that you mean," she said.
"I want to pay you to carry a child for me," Rami told her, speaking slowly. "I'll pay for the doctors, the treatments, everything."
"And why, exactly, do you need a child?" Mia couldn't get over the initial shock of what he had proposed.
"I want to raise a child the right way, and there's no better time than now." Mia reflected in silence for a long moment, remembering their conversation about children during their "date." She would never have imagined that the outcome of that conversation would be Rami asking her to carry his child. "In addition to paying for all of the medical costs, I would of course pay you."
"Wait-wait, you mean?" Mia felt her indignation rising again.
"No, not that-no. I would want you to conceive through IVF. But I would be paying you a monthly allowance, so that you wouldn't have to work. I want you to be completely healthy and stress-free right from the start. I was thinking maybe a hundred thousand a month, plus the medical bills and maybe extra for your groceries?" Mia's eyes widened and she stared at her phone in amazement at the figure he mentioned.
"One hundred thousand a month?" A voice in the back of her mind suggested that with that kind of money, she could close out all of her mother's bills and pay for years of medication.
"Of course, I'd pay you a larger sum once the baby is delivered," Rami continued, as if he hadn't quite heard her question. "I was thinking an even million, but if you think that you'd need more to give up a child you'd borne?" Mia could barely even think, much less speak. A million dollars, after earning a hundred thousand a month for nine months or more.
"This is crazy," Mia said, shaking her head. "Why do you want to pay me to carry a baby for you?"
"It seemed like a pretty good deal," Rami replied. "You get money that you need, I get the kid that I want. If it's not enough money I can talk to my accountant?"
"No, no it's not-it's not the amount," Mia said quickly. "It's more that it just seems so bizarre to be paid to do something like that."
"People do it every day," Rami said. Mia could just picture him shrugging at the other end of the line, as if offering someone two million dollars-maybe even more-was the most casual thing in the world. "Plenty of wealthy women don't want to carry their children, or can't, so they hire a surrogate and pay them. I'd want you to keep quiet about it, of course."
"It's just that?it seems so weird," Mia finished, bringing her hand up to her forehead. "I really need to think about something like that, Rami. It's a kind of a big favor you're asking."
"Like I said, if you think you need more money to be able to do it, I can work something out."
Mia shook her head. "I just-it would mean changing everything in my life, and-and I'm not sure if I'm even ready to be pregnant. Or to give up a kid that I'm carrying. Just?let me have some time to think about it, okay?"
"Take all the time you need," Rami told her. "It is kind of a big favor, I know. But I hope you'll agree to it." Mia barely remembered what she said to end the call; she was fairly certain she agreed to get back to him when she had made up her mind, but her brain seemed so thoroughly frozen by the magnitude of what Rami was asking-and the staggering amount of money he was offering her in exchange-that she couldn't be sure of the words that came out of her mouth.
The rest of her chores, everything she intended to do that evening, fell by the wayside. Mia simply lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to digest the incredible phone call. Part of her cringed at the idea of carrying a child that she would give up once it was born. Even if she wasn't being paid to have sex with someone-and Rami had managed to make it clear that he wanted her to undergo IVF-the notion of being pregnant, giving birth and then never seeing her child again, was unthinkable to Mia. I would be no better than my birth parents, she thought, bitterly.
But then-she wouldn't just be giving the child up. The child's life wouldn't be like hers at all. Mia thought back to the bleak, institutional orphanage-the group home-the location of her earliest memories. If she did agree to carry Rami's child, that baby wouldn't be housed in a sterile, featureless crib, wouldn't eat the same bland, if nutritional, meals three times a day, wouldn't play with an ever-changing bunch of kids she barely knew-some of whom were badly beaten, still bearing scars of abusive parents, both mental and physical. Any child that Mia carried for Rami w
ould be guaranteed all of the luxuries that wealth had to offer. Hadn't she told Rami that she wanted that for her own children, or at least as many of the finer things as she was capable of providing for them?
Mia couldn't deny that the money Rami was offering for carrying his child was almost absurd in its generosity. A hundred thousand dollars a month, with her medical bills taken care of, would allow her to clear her mother's debts in record time. She could take a sabbatical and get away from the school that had become more like a prison to her. "With the million at the end, I could go back to college, get another degree in something else." Even more than that-she could pay off her own debts. She could buy a house, something modest, but something that was hers outright. With a better job, no debt to hold her down, and her mother's care covered for at least for a few years, Mia could actually consider finding her own partner, having her own child.
But then, her mind countered, she didn't know how pregnancy would treat her. She had no idea what kinds of genetic diseases her birth parents had bequeathed her, no clue of how her birth mother had weathered her pregnancy. There were countless ways that a pregnancy could go wrong. She knew she was lingering on the worst-case scenario, but there was a small chance she could die if there were severe complications. Mia thought grimly that if Rami came up with some kind of contract, she would insist that on a clause stating that if Mia were to die in the process of carrying the child or giving birth to it, the remainder of the money would be paid to her mother.