I shifted so I could look him in the eye. “I told you I wasn’t here by choice.”
“I know,” he said, shrugging, “but I’ve heard some womenkeep the baby anyway.”
“Not me.” I rested my head on his chest. “I don’t want to be a mom.”
“That’s cool,” he replied, sounding genuine.
Again, there was a pause, and I braced myself, knowing we’d reached the point where we were going to have to talk about the elephant in the room. The conversation was inevitable, but that didn’t mean I was looking forward to it. I really, really wasn’t.
“Should we be using condoms?” Marc finally said.
I closed my eyes and exhaled. It wasn’t what I’d expected him to ask, but it led to the same topic.
I swallowed and with my eyes still closed said, “So, you know your status?”
Almost fifty percent of men were also infertile, and while the Fertility Act didn’t require them to get tested the way it did women, they could easily go to the Department of Health and find out. Not everyone did, but it happened. It was better to know than wonder.
“The girl I dated in high school was fertile, so I got checked. In case.”
That was a scenario I hadn’t even considered, and it hit a little too close to home for comfort.
When I said nothing, Marc shifted, pulling his arm out from under me so we were side by side. I opened my eyes to find him studying me like he was either trying to figure out what was on my mind, or to come up with something to say. Since I had no idea what to think or how to approach this situation, he wouldn’t find the answers to his questions. It was all so confusing because I was here to get pregnant, and we were having sex. But what should we do about it, if anything?
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Marc said, his tone gentle and slightly hesitant. “I know you’ve thought about this. I know you’re thinking about it now. I need to know, Ara, so I can figure out what I should do. I mean, you’re the one in the program, and you’ve already had enough taken from you. I don’t want to be responsible for taking more.”
“I’m thinking,” I said, pausing as I tried to collect mythoughts, “that I don’t see the point in using condoms. One way or another, I’m going to get pregnant. It’s the only possible outcome to this scenario. This way, maybe I’ll have a better shot, and then maybe I can go home.”
Marc frowned. “And leave me?”
My heart twisted just thinking about it, but I couldn’t lie to him. I didn’t want to stay here. At the Stanley Hotel, I was a prisoner. Nothing was up to me, and my life wasn’t my own. If by some chance I could go home, I could be free. But I also wasn’t going to lie to myself. We barely knew one another, but I didn’t want to leave him.
I took Marc’s hand and lifted it to my lips, pressing a kiss on his knuckles. “I don’t want to leave you. I don’t. But this place is horrible, and the longer I’m here, the worse it will get.”
He exhaled and flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “I know.”
“Can you leave too?” I asked. “Assuming I am allowed to leave after giving birth, can you get reassigned?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” He frowned, still staring at the ceiling. “I could check into it.”
“Then that’s what we do,” I said. “When the time comes, we try to get out of here together.”
I put my hand on his cheek, turned his head so he was looking at me, and kissed him gently.
For the next two nights, we were like teenagers trying to abstain from sex, and it was great. Amazing. And so were the conversations we had. That didn’t mean I wasn’t thrilled when my period finally came to an end.
The sex that night was great, but it wasn’t nearly as important to me as the time Marc and I got to spend together. With each passing day, I got to know him better. Got to know therealman. The one behind the uniform. And with each conversation we had, I liked him more. I even began to suspect that I might be falling in love with him.
But did he feel the same?
He wanted to be with me; the looks he shot me when we saw one another across the dining room told me that. And I knew bythe questions he asked and how attentive he was that he wanted to get to know the real me, too. But was he falling for me the way I was for him? If so, would he feel differently if he knew the truth about my past?
Abortion wasn’t just illegal; it was considered morally reprehensible by most people. Humans were on the endangered species list. We were living on borrowed time. Which meant we had to do whatever it took to ensure we didn’t go the way of the dinosaurs. Yet I’d ended a pregnancy. Ended a life. Most people would see that as unforgivable, but what would Marc think? Would he understand, or would it change how he saw me?
Five days after my period, I knew I had to bring it up. In a matter of days, I would be ovulating, and between my nights with Marc and the IUI, the odds that I would get pregnant were good. I had no clue how he’d react, how I would react, or what it would mean for us if things got that far, but I did know one thing. I needed to make sure he knew who I really was before we reached that point.
The fourth floor was brighter than usual when I reached it, which immediately had me on edge. Sometime between last night and this evening, someone had replaced all the dead lightbulbs. With everything else going on, I’d barely given what Marc told me on our first night in room 417 much thought, but it all came back now. The government was rounding up all the fertile women and girls who weren’t in the program under the guise of keeping them safe.
It sickened me, but also had me wondering what Marc and I would do once this floor was occupied. Could he come to my room? It would be risky, but I thought it might be possible. That was assuming he’d even want to continue seeing me after he learned the truth.
