Coincidences by Maria Savva
‘But how do you feel?’ asked the girl with the brown hair, bringing Stephanie out of her trance.
‘Oh, I’m fine,’ said the blonde girl. ‘It’s a wonderful feeling. I’ve given my sister something she’s always wanted—a child of her own.’
‘But... it’s not really hers.’
The blonde girl took a tissue from her bag and blew her nose.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, Stacy,’ said the brown haired girl.
‘No, no, you haven’t. I just get a bit emotional...’
‘Well, yes, I suppose you would. It must be the hormones. I’m not judging you or anything, but I really don’t think I’d be able to give my baby away to someone else.’
‘It wasn’t hard to do. Josie isn’t a stranger; she’s my sister, and we’re very close. Throughout the pregnancy I told myself the baby was Josie and Paul’s. It is Paul’s baby, and I’m sure Josie and Paul will make the best parents. I don’t regret it for a minute.’
When Stephanie got off the bus, she felt a new sense of hope surge within her. It was raining and she had to open her umbrella, but it seemed to her as if the sun was shining. Roger hadn’t agreed to adoption because he didn’t want a baby that wasn’t theirs. He could still have a baby. Someone could have a baby for her and Roger. She smiled to herself.
Stephanie mentioned the surrogacy option to Rita and she actually asked Rita whether she’d consider having a baby for them. Rita declined, saying she didn’t think it was a good idea. However, a couple of months later, Rita phoned her:
‘Steph, remember you were telling me you wanted to consider surrogacy as an option?’
‘Yes. Have you changed your mind? Oh, Rita—’
‘No, no. I’m not offering. But I talked to a friend of mine and she said she knows someone who might be interested.’
‘Oh. Do you know her?’
‘No. She’s a student, apparently. She has plans to travel abroad but is short of money. She mentioned to my friend that she’d be willing to have a baby for you if you pay her.’
‘Well, how much does she want? We have some savings, but bringing up a child is expensive and we’ll need money.’
‘She hasn’t said how much, but she’d like to meet with you and maybe you could discuss it with her. Her name is Miranda Carey.’
Stephanie told Roger about it when he came home form work that night:
‘Are you going completely crazy?’ was his initial reaction.
‘You know how much I want a child,’ she said. ‘I thought you did, too.’
They were sitting in the living room on the brown leather sofa. Roger was smoking. He put out his cigarette and turned to face her. He saw how his comment had upset her, as her eyes were welling with tears. He reached out and touched her face softly.
‘Darling, you have to admit this is a crazy idea. What woman in her right mind would give up her baby to a complete stranger?’
He was talking softly, but Stephanie felt that there was a patronising tone to his voice. She reached for a tissue from the box just in front of her. As she pulled out a tissue, the box fell onto the floor. Roger picked it up and looked at her sympathetically. Stephanie felt that he was inwardly laughing at her. He was treating her as he always did every time she had an idea; as if she was a little girl, unable to make decisions about anything.
‘Now, let’s forget about all this, shall we?’ He seemed pleased with himself.
Stephanie took a deep breath. ‘There is someone who is willing to have a child for us; so it’s not a crazy idea. I’m not just going to forget about it.’ She sat back on the sofa, folding her arms, and waited for his response.
‘You’re not thinking straight, darling.’ Roger stood up, he seemed agitated, restless. ‘You are asking me to have a baby with someone I’ve never even met.’
‘It’s not as if you have to sleep with her. You just donate your sperm.’
He turned to face her, and looked directly in her eyes, making her feel uncomfortable with his hard stare. ‘I won’t do it,’ he said, angrily, folding his arms and sitting back down on the sofa. He leaned forward and picked up his cigarette packet from the coffee table, his hands shaking.
When he had leaned back again, Stephanie touched his arm: ‘Roger, dear, I want you to do this for me. For us. I want a child; our child. You said you don’t want to adopt; well, this way, the child will be yours.’
‘Why should I have to pay someone to give me my own child? We can’t afford to pay out money to this woman.’ He lit his cigarette and shrugged Stephanie's hand away from his arm. He blew out a circle of smoke, then turned to face her, his dark eyes narrowed: ‘If we could have had a child of our own, it would have been great. But we can’t. Just face it. We can’t do something like this, it’s wrong.’
‘No, you’re wrong. It’s the perfect solution.’ Her voice came out high-pitched. She felt a frantic need to find a way to convince him. It was as if she was holding on to a fraying piece of rope, her dreams tied to the end; she had to pull in the rope before it snapped, and he had to help her. But his eyes were distant. There was no emotion in his gaze. It was as if he had given up and decided she was foolish.
He leaned back on the sofa and took a deep drag from his cigarette. She watched as he exhaled the smoke in front of him, staring blankly ahead, but she could see his mind ticking away trying to think of what he could say to her. Eventually he spoke, without looking at her.
‘This is the maddest thing you’ve ever thought of. Sometimes I wonder what is going on in that head of yours. All you can think about is having a baby. Baby, baby, baby. Blah, blah, blah.’ Then he turned towards her, irritation showing in his eyes. ‘I didn’t say anything before, because I know it was hard for you to hear that you can’t have children. I thought in time you’d come to accept it, but no; you just keep wittering on and on and on like a broken record. Well, I’m sick of it.’ He stood up as the ash from the end of his cigarette fell onto the cream carpet. He stubbed the cigarette out into an ashtray and folded his arms in front of him looking down his nose at her. ‘You should know that if God had wanted you to have children, you wouldn’t be bloody infertile!’
Stephanie gasped. ‘How dare you! You... You... insensitive... bastard!’
Roger looked suitably embarrassed. ‘Sorry,’ he said, under his breath. ‘I shouldn’t have said that, but—’
‘This is the most important thing to me, and all you can do is mock me,’ she said through sniffs and tears. ‘You just don’t love me anymore; that’s the real problem, isn’t it?’ She looked up at him, her green eyes full of tears.
He handed her a tissue and sat down beside her: ‘You’re losing touch with the real issue here, Steph. You’re losing your grip on reality.’
‘What—’
‘Let me finish,’ he said, agitated. He looked at her and smiled a sad smile. ‘You just said that having a baby is the most important thing to you. Shouldn’t I be the most important thing to you? Think about it... you’re the one who’s putting a wall between us. You’re more concerned about having a baby than you are about the way I feel.’
Stephanie sat in stunned silence. She knew what he said made sense, but her mind was not ready to hear that she had to give up her dream of having a child. She wanted to be with Roger, but she also wanted a child. ‘Is it so bad that I want us to be a family?’
‘Look, if it will mean I can get some peace, I will come with you to meet this woman, but I’m not promising anything. With any luck, you’ll come to your senses and we can leave this in the past.’
‘You’ll come? You’ll meet Miranda?’ She smiled through her tears and shrugged away the doubts that were creeping into her mind. She wanted to focus on the positive. Roger seemed to be coming around to the idea. At least that’s what she tried to tell herself.
‘Don’t get your hopes up, we haven’t met her yet.’ His voice was flat, emotionless.
Stephanie put her arms around him. ‘Thank you, darling, tha
After meeting with Miranda, Stephanie and Roger discussed the matter again, and Roger’s attitude seemed to have changed. It appeared that he had recovered some hope, and Stephanie felt that this would indeed be just the thing they needed to save their marriage: Roger would have a child of his own, and Miranda would be out of the picture once the baby was born; she’d said something about wanting to take a year off to travel abroad. Everything seemed to be coming together perfectly.
Miranda was twenty-two years old. She was quite ordinary looking; she had mousey-brown hair and was slightly on the plump side. She was pretty enough that Stephanie didn’t have to be concerned about what the child might look like, but plain enough so she didn’t have to worry about Roger taking a fancy to her.
She liked Miranda on first meeting her; she seemed sincere and very polite. When Stephanie questioned her about whether she’d given thought to how difficult it would be for her to give up her child, Miranda had replied: ‘Some women are just not natural mothers, I suppose. The way I see it is, you want a baby and I can give that to you, in exchange for the money I need to travel. It’s a fair swap. I don’t really fancy sleepless nights and endless nappy changing at my age. I want to travel and see the world. My mum had six children and I’m the oldest; I was always being called upon to look after the younger ones. I made the decision a few years ago, when I was knee high in potty training and dirty nappies, that I don’t want children of my own. Who knows, maybe when I’m older I’ll change my views, but for now I want to be free to enjoy my life.’
Miranda seemed like the perfect surrogate mother.
Once all the details had been agreed, Roger became more loving towards Stephanie; he began to pay much more attention to her, which seemed to be his way of assuring her that he loved her even though he would be having a child with another woman. He seemed much more considerate of her feelings and sensitive to her insecurity. It was a side of him that Stephanie had not seen for some time. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long.
Almost as soon as Miranda announced she was pregnant, Roger became more distant. He spent most of his time at work, and would not return home until the early hours. Their relationship was once again failing, and Stephanie began to worry that they had made a big mistake in agreeing to the surrogacy. How could they bring up a child together if they hardly ever communicated? She spent most of her lonely nights crying.
When Alice was born, however, Roger’s attitude seemed to change again, and they spent a few happy months together. Stephanie dared to believe that their marriage was back on track, but the happiness was short-lived. Roger began to stay out late more often. This led to arguments which became progressively worse. Finally, Roger left.
Stephanie thought back to the time of Alice’s birth. The surrogacy arrangement now seemed like something murky and unspeakable, that was better forgotten. Even after all these years, she still could not get her head around how Miranda had so easily given up her child for a bit of money.
Stephanie wasn’t present at Alice’s birth, and neither was Roger. Miranda had insisted she didn’t want them there. This made Stephanie jittery, worried that the girl could easily change her mind about giving them the baby. Her marriage seemed to be hanging by a thread at that stage, and her one hope was still that as soon as Roger saw his child he would become a loving husband again. She sighed at her naiveté whenever she thought back to that time. It was as if there were red flashing warning signs all over the place about the dire state of the marriage, but she chose to ignore them.
She had desperately wanted to take more of a role during the pregnancy, but Miranda had only agreed to meet with her and Roger twice in the nine months, and both times she had told them that she thought it was best if they kept their distance and treated it as more of a business arrangement so that emotions would not be involved. Miranda seemed to be acting rather neurotically, so Stephanie thought it best to go along with whatever she wanted.
When Alice was born, Miranda insisted that only Roger could attend to collect her from the hospital, as he could pretend to be her husband. She wanted things to look as normal as possible to the hospital staff.
Stephanie remembered how she had waited in anticipation for Roger to arrive back from the hospital with Alice, and how perfect Alice had looked. They told their friends that they had adopted her. Stephanie took comfort in knowing that this wasn’t a complete lie as she did have to adopt her to make everything legal.
Looking up at the kitchen clock, as she ate her breakfast, her mind soon came back to the present day. She would have to meet Rita in less than half an hour. She finished her coffee and set off towards the Tube station.
***
Alice finished her shift at the bookstore at 1 p.m. She had lunch at a nearby café and then decided to visit her mother. Since yesterday, Alice had been feeling guilty about upsetting her by mentioning her father. Her mind battled between not wanting to hurt her mother’s feelings, but at the same time wanting to acknowledge her own curiosity about the man who had abandoned her as a child.
On the way to her mother’s flat, Alice saw a man selling flowers in the street. He had a few bunches of roses in his bucket, and when he saw Alice approach him, he picked out a bunch of yellow roses and held them towards her, smiling. His face looked dirty and weather worn, but his eyes were beautiful, an almost translucent blue. Alice remembered that Stephanie used to always buy yellow roses for the flat, saying that they reminded her of the sun and made her feel happy.
Alice reached into her handbag and took out her purse. The man smiled, revealing surprisingly white teeth. ‘Thank you,’ he said in an accent she did not recognise, as he handed her the bunch of roses.
The perfume from the flowers wafted up to Alice’s nose as she walked along the street, the aroma reminding her of days when she was younger and more carefree, living with her mother. The flat always seemed to smell of roses in those days.
At 2 p.m., Alice arrived at Stephanie’s front door. As she opened the door, she could hear laughter. Realising that her mother was not alone, Alice wondered whether she should leave and come back another time. She had only really wanted to make sure that her mother was okay, and not lonely, and she’d wanted to try to make up for upsetting her. From the sound of the chat and laughter emanating from the kitchen, she was fine. Alice smiled to herself. She decided she would leave the roses in the lounge with a note. As she was looking inside her bag for a pen, she heard a familiar voice. It was Rita’s. The memory of the recent meeting with Rita in the café piqued Alice’s curiosity. This woman knew about her father. Maybe it would be better to go into the kitchen and introduce herself. If she got to know Rita, she could find out all she wanted to know about her father, and she wouldn’t have to bother Stephanie about it anymore.
Alice closed the front door slowly, trying not to make any noise; it occurred to her that maybe her mother and Rita would be discussing old times, which might include some stories about her father. It was hard to make out what the women were talking about, so she slowly crept towards the kitchen, glad she was wearing trainers as they didn’t make too much noise on the wooden floor.
When Alice was standing outside the kitchen door, she heard Rita say: ‘I still think you should tell Alice. She has a right to know.’
Alice raised her eyebrows.
‘I can’t. Well, at least not yet,’ replied Stephanie.
Alice frowned. What was this secret that her mother was keeping from her? Just then, her keys fell from her hand onto the wooden floor, making a loud clanging sound as they landed.
‘What was that?’ said Stephanie.
In a panic, Alice quickly opened the kitchen door and said, ‘Hi, Mum.’
Stephanie’s eyes widened. ‘Oh... er... hello, darling.’ She was seated by the kitchen table opposite Rita.
‘Hello,’ said Rita, smiling.<
‘Hi,’ said Alice, nodding at Rita.
She was kicking herself for dropping her keys. What were they talking about?
‘Mum, I got you these roses.’ She handed the flowers to Stephanie.
‘Thank you, sweetie. They’re lovely. My favourite.’
‘What a thoughtful girl,’ commented Rita.
Alice couldn’t help feeling tension in the air. She had walked in when they were discussing something, and she had stopped them mid flow.
Stephanie began arranging the roses in a glass vase.
Alice sat down next to Rita, feeling slightly awkward.
‘Er... would you like a cup of tea, Alice?’ asked her mother.
‘Um... okay.’
Her mother filled the glass vase with water and put it on the kitchen bench. She then took a cup from the cabinet and poured Alice some tea from the pot on the table.
Alice was only too aware of the silence in the room. Her mother and Rita had been chatting away together before she’d walked in. It was as if they were waiting for her to leave so they could continue; at least it felt that way to Alice.
‘You were only a baby when I left London,’ said Rita, breaking the silence.
‘Yes, my mum told me,’ said Alice, smiling.
‘Your mother and I were just catching up on old times. We’ve been out of touch for over twenty years.’
‘That’s a long time,’ said Alice.
‘Darling, how’s your arm? Did you go to the doctor?’
Alice was sure that her mother had interrupted to try to change the subject. She remembered Rita’s words just before she’d dropped her keys: ‘Alice... has a right to know.’
‘My arm’s fine. Nothing to worry about.’
‘Good.’ Her mother smiled, then asked: ‘So, have you been at work today?’
‘Yes, I was there in the morning.’
‘Have you had lunch?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good.’