The unplanned surrogacy

The morning light was creeping into the thin curtains of the apartment of Mariam Harrison, as it fell on her face and the mirror glass before her. She looked at herself, without speaking, the face she had long been studying, learning how to love, how to become better, how to become perfect. She wasn’t vain, not really. She simply had an idea of what the world wanted of her. Beauty in modeling was more than a gift; it was a ticket to entry, and she could not in any way afford to waste it. Her big body moved in a manner that was graceful due to discipline and not accidental. All the curves of her body were stories of dedication, early morning gym workouts, evenings in the kitchen cooking meals, hours of posing before this very mirror. Her complexion was smooth and caramel colored and shone slightly in the light. Her dark hair was long and healthily waving over her shoulders. At times, she still found it weird, how interested she was in her appearance, but yet how remote it was. She even saw strength in certain days. On other days too, she witnessed a girl who was still trying to make herself feel at peace. She pulled the hem of her beige dress and took up her purse. It was not a casting or audition day, it was her checkup day, a pap test checkup. She was serious about her health. Everything, body, energy, time, might be required of modeling, and she did not allow neglect to ruin her dreams. She was thinking, as she opened the door to her apartment and passed into the dim morning of Velani International. The largest modeling company internationally. The dream. She still recalled the first time she had laid her eyes upon one of their campaigns: huge billboards, radiant women, all the self-confidence in every frame. She had auditioned for them. She had always entered in hope and both times she had left, attempting not to cry. You are so pretty, Mariam. However, we want something a little different. Those words had never ceased to ring in her ears. She gave a sigh and stared on the road as she was driven along by her driver in the city. The crowd had swept by, life had passed on, but she had a response of stagnation within her. As though she was awaiting something which she did not know. At the hospital, the air was lightly impregnated with antiseptic and lemon polish. It was familiar. Comforting, even. The nurse in the reception was smiling at her. Good morning, Miss Harrison, she said in a pleasant voice. Mariam smiled back. “Morning. I came here to have a check-up routine. The nurse nodded, and took her details and pointed to the corridor. Mariam was slow in her walk, clicking softly with her heels on tiles. This was not new to her, the whitish walls, the low groans of air conditioning, the dull effect of swinging doors. It was all the same as brushing her teeth or tallying calories. As she walked into Dr. Smith's office, he rose out of his desk and smiled at her just as he always did, politely. ‘Mariam, I am glad to see you here’, and shook her hand. ‘Good morning, Doctor’, she replied, and returned the gesture. But as she sat down, something wrong struck her. His face, which was usually very steady, quiet, bore an expression, as though something rested on it, disengaged. He turned slowly through her file, reread the same line. She put her head back, wondering and not saying. People had bad days. Doctors, too. He started questioning her when she last came, was there any changes, the way she had been feeling. She responded to each of them in a cool, soft, but confident manner. “I’ve been fine,” she said. “Just… tired sometimes. Work’s been a lot lately.” He nodded absently. “Modeling, right?” She smiled faintly. “Yes.” There was a pause. There was a kind of something unspoken in the air. Mariam touched it, and he was unable to call it by name. When he at last requested her to go to the examination room, she did just as she always did, calm and stable. It was a checkup, a usual one, and, nevertheless, there was something heavier than usual in the silence between them. She once or twice caught him looking aside, brooding. She sat back at his desk when it was done as he scribbled notes. ‘All is very well,’he said, at last, with a reassuring smile which did not so much get to his eyes. You are well taking care of yourself. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I try.” He nodded. “Keep doing what you’re doing. You’re doing it right.” Something in his tone was not only professionalism, but silent admiration. This gave her a slight sense of warmth in her chest, but she denied it. Mariam looked deep in the face, as she went out of his office, grasping the fresh breath of the passage. The checkup had gone well. That should’ve been enough. She could not get rid of the queer sadness she had caught on his features. Nevertheless, as she went outside into the sunshine, she suppressed the thought. Her phone rang, a message from her agent concerning a potential photoshoot next week. Her heart made a leap, though only a moment. She had been taught not to be overcrowded. Only when things were definite. She put her phone back into her bag and made the crossing of the street at the gym. Life went on. Dreams didn’t wait. And even if she desired hers, she could not. However, as she walked, a little disturbing thought came to her mind, that type of thought that sneaks in but does not want to go. What do you think the distracting factor of the doctor was not that of himself? What if it was about her?