Chapter 7
753 Words
This is going to be a very stressful week.
And it was. On the final day of my trial run with the Moretti's, I lay in my new bedroom. I'm
absolutely pooped. Not only am I physically exhausted from all the activities we've been doing,
but also mentally. Troy's careful touches and sideways glances haven't gone unnoticed. Amidst
trying to land this job and simultaneously trying to figure out what's up with him, I have a
constant headache.
Troy and Jasmine are supposed to give me their final decision at dinner tonight and to say I'm
stressed is an understatement.
I need this money.
I want nothing more than to start over and escape the ever clutching grasp of Ryan Roberts.
Luckily the Moretti's aren't calling anyone for references that I know of, so he can't possibly
mess this up for me.
This is my one chance.
The only way left for me to make a living. I sold my body once and now I'm doing it again, just
in a different way.
Though I'm sure it will be just as painful, if not more so.
God help me. I need this job.
..........................................................
Come dinner time, I follow the smell of some sort of cheesy concoction down to the dining room
where Jasmine already occupies the long dinner table.
Lifting her head, she gives me a strangely kind smile and stands.
"Ah Tess. I'm afraid my husband won't be able to make it on time. He's caught up at the office,
but he hates to keep people waiting, so I'll give you the final consensus. Walk with me."
Though I almost feel that Jasmine is warming up to me, I can't shake the nervous feeling when
she throws an arm around my shoulder and starts us off down the hall.
"Now I stead of making you sit through an entire dinner with anticipation, I thought I'd make
things easier on all of us. The truth of the matter is that you just aren't in the right shape to do this
for my husband and I. You're practically anorexic and don't think I don't notice how little you
care for your body."
Her head tilts and her eyes scan my lower half as we turn a corner.
This isn't going well.
"What I'm trying to say Tess," Jasmine says coming to a stop at the front door and putting her
hands on my shoulders, "is that you don't meet the requirements we have for a surrogate. Sorry
dear. You're bags are already in the car."
A small gasp leaves my mouth as my almost employer walks away. I-im not- I didn't get the
job?
My eyes are wide and I can feel my throat tighten I as tears well in my eyes.
I'm not good enough. Not good enough to be a mother and not even good enough to carry a baby
for someone else.
I can't do the one thing that nearly every other female can. The Moretti's don't trust me enough to
do so.
Now I'm back to where I've started. I'll have to get used to going back to two small meals a day
and getting rejected from every job I apply for.
Swallowing both my pride and my sadness, I leave the lavish mansion without a proper goodbye
and hop in the back of the car. Carl doesn't say a word, but I can tell he's a bit upset as well. He
was probably made to pack my things.
It's a depressing ride back home and it seems suitable to my situation when it starts to rain.
Carl and I run my bags up to my room before the fourty-something year old man frowns and
shoves his hands in his pockets.
"I really thought you were going to get it. Jasmine scared away all the others who were
interviewed, but I could've sworn you made an impression. You're the only one who stayed until
the end. It was a please knowing you Ms. Tess."
I thank him for his kindness before receiving a tip from his hat. Escorting him out is just as hard
as leaving my temporary housing was, but it needs to be done.
These are the repercussions of my failings. If I had lied about my diet, or said that I was into
jogging, I might have gotten the gotten the job.
However, as I sit back at my computer and pull up the familiar job hunting website, it’s hard to
rekindle my hope.
- Writer
