On the third day, the lock unexpectedly clicked between breakfast and lunch. I was lying on the bed, but I quickly sat up, surprised and also a little worried. Maybe they’d decided to move me to a prison hospital after all. I hoped not. Being locked in this room and having no one to talk to and nothing to do was awful, but I wasn’t stupid. The government hospitals would be worse.
The doorknob turned, and I braced myself. I was terrified of what was going to happen but was determined to face it with as much strength as possible. I would not cry. Would not beg. I would hold my head high.
All my determination melted away when the door swung open, and Marc stepped into the room. A strangled sob broke out of me, and I scrambled from the bed, tears blurring everything. My body was shaking, my legs weak, but I managed to stay standing.
We met in the middle of the room, and I threw myself against him. When he wrapped his arms around me, I was crying uncontrollably and so shaky that, had I been left to my own devices, I would have had no chance of staying on my feet.I clung to Marc for support, tangling my fists in his shirt while he held me, my face against his chest. My tears were hot and seemingly never-ending, and his shirt was damp even before we sank to the floor.
He held me while I cried, whispering soothing words I couldn’t focus on, his outdoorsy scent wrapping around me. I’d thought I’d never see him again, and how he was here now, I didn’t know, but I was so grateful for the chance to say goodbye. So thankful he’d risked everything to come.
“Ara,” he said after what felt like an hour of me crying, “what happened? Why did you attack Hilary?”
I sniffed, wiped my face on his shirt, and pulled back so I could see him. It was a stupid thing to do because the worry in his brown eyes made me start crying again.
“Ara,” Marc said more firmly this time, “tell me what’s going on.”
I tried to control my sobs, but it was no use. “Sh-sh-she said I c-couldn’t k-keep the ba-baby.”
The words sounded barely intelligible to my ears but apparently Marc got the point because he said, “What the fuck! They can’t do that, can they?”
“They can d-do anything.”
“Shit,” he raked his hand across his head. “Why? What was the reason?”
“My – ”
A hiccupped sob broke out of me, and I tried to regain some control. I inhaled, exhaled, swallowed down my tears. I didn’t know how much time Marc had, but it probably wasn’t long, and I had things to say.
“My attitude,” I managed to get out. “My behavior since being in the program.”
“The day I got you in trouble,” he filled in. “Shit. Oh, God, Ara, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
“It wasn’t just that. It was me. I’ve never kept it a secret that I was angry about being forced into the program or that I hated Hilary. She made note of that and anything else I did, and the Department of Fertility decided I wasn’t fit to be a mom.”
“But it’s your baby,” he said through gritted teeth.
“It’s the Department of Fertility’s baby.”
“No.” Marc stood and started to pace, raking his hand through his short, dark hair in agitation. “This is wrong. They can’t do this.”
I watched him from my position on the floor, unsure if I’d be able to stand even if I tried. He was talking to himself, muttering all the same things I’d complained about since entering the program. The injustice of them commandeering my uterus, how wrong it was to treat human beings this way, the irony of women like me being held prisoner while also being the hope for humanity. None of it made sense. None of it was fair. But this was how it was, and we were powerless to stop it.
Something about seeing my own rage manifest itself in him made me suddenly exhausted. I was tired of this emotional rollercoaster, tired of being a pawn in the Department of Fertility’s fight against extinction. Tired of being powerless.
“Marc,” I said after a few minutes.
He continued to pace, continued to mutter to himself.
“Marc,” I said more firmly.
He stopped. Turned to face me.
I patted the floor. “Come here. We don’t have much time.”
Obediently, he crossed the room and sank to the floor at my side. I took his hand, held it, and stared into his eyes, thinking of all the things I wanted to say. There was so much it was overwhelming.
“I love you,” I began. “Never forget that, okay?”
“I love you,” he repeated in a dull tone.
