“Fair enough.” He drummed his fingers on the desk as he paused to think, then said, “Do you at least have a copy of thiscontract?”
“Yes. I can email it to you.”
“Okay. That’s good.”
“But,” I hesitated, “I don’t want to get you in trouble. I mean, is it okay to share it with an attorney even when I signed a non-disclosure agreement?”
“Yes, you are always entitled to legal counsel. Not that I think it will go very far when it comes to dealing with the Department of Fertility.”
“Great.” I slumped back.
“But email it to me anyway and I’ll look it over. And if you’re told you have to go to this hospital, I want you to ask for a revised contract and insist you have your lawyer present. If for no other reason than that it will ensure I know what’s going on with you.”
“That makes sense.”
Again, Trevor hesitated, and this time when he spoke, he was no longer in lawyer mode and his voice was softer and full of concern. “I’m sorry, Ara. I never thought anything like this would happen. I mean, the program is bad enough, but this is…” He gritted his teeth as he searched for the right word. “Awful. Wrong. They shouldn’t be allowed to do this.”
“No, but I’m pretty sure they will, and I don’t think that will be the end either. I think we’re going to see a lot of changes down the road. And none of them are going to be good for women like me.”
Twenty-Four
Two days later, as I was getting ready for work, my phone began vibrating. I froze in the middle of pulling my long, dark hair into a ponytail, unable to do anything but stare at the screen. I didn’t register it when I dropped my hair or when my hands began to tremble or when my heart began beating harder, because I was too distracted by the sight of Hilary’s name. This was it. I’d known it was coming, had expected it, but just like the morning I’d found the letter from the Department of Fertility in my mailbox, the knowledge hadn’t prepared me for reality.
I waited longer than I should have to answer the call, and as I pressed my finger against the screen, I could picture Hilary’s irritated expression, an image that was solidified when she snapped, “What took you so long?” before I’d even had a chance to say hello.
Ignoring her impatience, I said, “When do I have to leave?”
She huffed, and I wondered if she’d been looking forward to giving me the news. If so, I was glad I’d decided to face reality head on. I didn’t want her getting any more satisfaction out of the situation than she already was.
“Today,” she replied, her tone crisp. “You’re to report to the Department of Fertility by noon.”
Noon. Less than three hours from now. It wasn’t enough time.
“You’re to bring one suitcase and are encouraged to pack essential items only, although the Department of Fertility understands you may want to bring personal items such as pictures of family or other loved ones. You don’t need to bother with any hygiene products since those will be provided for you, and rest assured, the facility you’ll be staying at will be stocked with things to keep you entertained. Books, movies, games, and other items. Everything will be provided and anything you need to maintain your home while you’re gone will be taken care of, such as utilities, rent or mortgage, and upkeep, including yard work. Do you have any questions?”
My mind spun with so many questions I had a difficult time focusing, and I took a moment to organize them before deciding which to ask first. “Where will I be going? Will it be far?”
“A secure location,” she replied. “That’s all I can tell you.”
Unsurprised by the elusive answer, I went on. “Will I be allowed to contact anyone while I’m there?”
“That is a question for the people working at the facility, I’m afraid.”
I blew out a frustrated breath but chose not to debate the issue. “What about a new contract?”
For the first time, there was a note of surprise in Hilary’s voice. “New contract?”
“Yes, the terms have changed. I deserve to have a new contract outlining the changes, and I deserve to have legal counsel present when I sign it.”
“Miss Murphy,” she said, once again annoyed, “let me assure you that the Department of Fertility has your best interest at heart and that there is literally no reason for you to obtain legal counsel when we have the best attorneys on our side and ready to assist you if necessary. Which it is not at this juncture.”
“Not from my point of view. I’m about to be taken to a facility against my will, you refuse to tell me where it is, I have no idea how long I’ll be there, and I don’t even know if I’ll be able to contact my loved ones to fill them in on how I’m doing or make sure they’re okay. Not a single part of that plan makes me feel like anyone has my best interest at heart, soexcuse me if I’d like to make sure my rights aren’t going to be violated any more than they already have.”
“You have no rights,” Hilary snapped, then sucked in a breath like the outburst had shocked her.
I was just as surprised, but also not surprised at all. All the evasiveness and carefully worded assurances had never been able to hide the truth from me, and I wasn’t stupid enough to think Hilary actually believed any of it either. She was one of the zealots, one of the people who thought all this was actually okay simply because I was fertile. She knew I had no rights; she just didn’t care. It was all justified to her.
After a brief pause, Hilary exhaled, and when she spoke again, her tone was more controlled. “There is no new contract, Miss Murphy. The original is enough because of the clause that allows the Department of Fertility to make changes based on extenuating circumstances, such as a new pandemic. We are completely within our rights as granted by the United States government under The Fertility Act. That is the last I will say about it, and quite frankly, I don’t have the time or patience to deal with it right now. I have four other women to call and a lot to do before we head out this afternoon, and what’s more, I’m tired of your selfishness. You have a duty, and you will perform it or suffer the consequences. Noon. Not a minute later, do you understand?”
