“Relieved?” I was relieved to have something else to focus on, even if the topic was awful. “What does that mean?”
“There are prayer vigils everywhere with people standing in the streets for hours, praying for fertile women and their babies. It’s crazy.”
“Crazy,” I repeated.
It was crazy, but it was something else as well. Terrifying. The prayer vigils meant people had not only accepted what the government was doing, but they also thought it was for our own good. It also meant there wasn’t much stopping the Department of Fertility from taking things further. And the general population would never know.
“Anyway,” Marc said, “things have gotten really bad. The death tolls are through the roof. It’s scary out there.”
I thought of Trevor and what he might be going through, wondering if he was sick, if I would ever get to talk to him orsee him again. If the government had their way, probably not. Even if I did get out of here eventually, though, he might not be around. He could die, and I would never have the chance to say goodbye.
I didn’t know if he would be able to do it, but since it didn’t hurt to ask, I said, “Can you do something for me? I mean, if you can, I mean.”
Marc’s mouth turned down in the corners. “Of course. What is it?”
“I want to know if my best friend is okay. Is contacting him possible?”
“You mean Trevor?”
“Yes, Trevor.” I didn’t know if me asking about another man meant Marc would be less likely to do this for me, so I quickly added, “He’s gay, you know. Trevor is gay.”
Marc belted out a laugh. “I did not know that, but you know it doesn’t matter, right? I’m not jealous of Trevor.”
Despite my worry – and the nagging voice in my head telling me to share my news – I managed a smile. “I didn’t know for sure.”
Marc laughed again but quickly sobered. “I can try. I mean, it’s a touchy situation because all our communications are monitored, and it’s not like I can come right out and tell him I know you or anything, but I can send him a Facebook message or something, maybe. If he answers, I’ll know he’s okay.”
That wouldn’t work, but I had an idea. “He won’t answer a stranger, but he is an attorney. Maybe you can message his business or even call and pretend you need some legal advice? I don’t know.”
Marc thought about it for a second before nodding. “I can do that. What’s his last name?”
“Abernathy. Trevor Abernathy. And thank you so much.”
“Anything you need,” he said, his tone dead serious, “I’m here for you, Ara. Forever.”
Forever.I loved the word but couldn’t help wondering if we’d ever get the chance.
I wasn’t able to work up the nerve to tell Marc about thebaby that night, or the one after. I just couldn’t make myself do it.
The next night when Marc came to my room, he had good news.
“I got in touch with Trevor.”
My heart leapt, and I had to fight back tears when they sprang to my eyes. “You did? Is he okay? What did you tell him?”
“I emailed his law firm since I thought that would be less suspicious. I told him I was stationed in the area for a bit and needed some legal advice about an incident and was wondering if he could help me via email. I kept it vague so whoever was reading the message didn’t get suspicious, so I couldn’t exactly ask how he was doing, but I figured if he responded that would at least let us know he wasn’t too sick.”
“Smart,” I said despite my disappointment.
It wasn’t enough, not by a long shot, but it was something and I was so grateful to Marc for taking a risk for me.
“Anyway,” he went on, “he replied the next day, telling me he would be happy to help if he could but that a phone consultation would be better. He said he was available any day, which to me means he’s still working.”
“And he’s not sick,” I whispered.
“Seems like it,” Marc replied.
I blinked back tears. Trevor was okay. He wasn’t sick. At least not now. Thank God.
