Desperation
878 Words
Elena Martinez stared at the medical bill in her trembling hands. Fifty
thousand dollars. The numbers blurred as tears threatened to fall, but
she blinked them back. Crying wouldn't change anything.
"Miss Martinez?" Dr. Rodriguez's voice was gentle but firm. "We need to
discuss your father's treatment options."
Elena folded the bill carefully, as if treating the paper with respect
would somehow make the amount smaller. "What are our choices?"
"The experimental treatment I mentioned last week is showing
promising results. However, insurance won't cover it. The cost would
be—"
"Fifty thousand upfront, plus ongoing care." Elena had memorized every
detail of her father's case. "How long do we have to decide?"
Dr. Rodriguez looked uncomfortable. "Your father's cancer is aggressive.
Without treatment, perhaps three months. With standard
chemotherapy, maybe six to eight months. The experimental treatment
could give him years, possibly even a full recovery."
Elena closed her eyes. Six months versus years. The choice should be
simple, but fifty thousand dollars might as well be fifty million.
"I need some time," she whispered.
"Of course. But Elena..." Dr. Rodriguez had known her family for years,
had treated Elena through childhood illnesses and her mother's death
five years ago. "Time is not something we have much of."
Elena nodded and left the hospital in a daze. Outside, she called her
supervisor at the law firm.
"Richardson and Associates, this is Jennifer."
"Jen, it's Elena. I need to ask about that advance we discussed."
"Oh honey, I talked to Mr. Richardson this morning. The firm is going
through budget cuts. He can't authorize any advances right now. I'm
sorry."
Another dead end. Elena had exhausted every option – bank loans
(denied due to insufficient income), credit cards (maxed out), family
(her father's relatives in Mexico had disowned him years ago for his
political activism).
Her phone buzzed with a text from her roommate: "Check your email.
Found something that might help. -Rosa"
Elena stopped at a coffee shop and opened her laptop. Rosa had
forwarded an advertisement from a high-end surrogacy agency:
"Seeking healthy women aged 21-30 for surrogacy arrangement.
Excellent compensation for the right candidate. Discretion guaranteed.
Serious inquiries only."
The compensation amount made Elena's breath catch. Five hundred
thousand dollars.
She read the advertisement three times, certain she was
misunderstanding, but the number remained the same. Half a million
dollars to carry someone else's baby for nine months.
It was insane. It was impossible. It was...
"The only option I have left," Elena whispered to herself.
Her phone rang. Her father's name appeared on the screen.
"Mija, how did the meeting with the doctor go?"
Elena forced brightness into her voice. "Good, Papa. We're exploring all
the treatment options."
"I don't want you worrying about money. If it's my time—"
"Don't talk like that." Elena's voice was sharp. "We're going to beat this. I
promise."
After hanging up, Elena stared at the surrogacy advertisement. Her
father had sacrificed everything for her education, working three jobs
to put her through law school. He'd been a respected journalist in
Mexico before his political articles made him a target. Coming to
America had saved his life once. Now it was her turn to save his.
Elena clicked reply and began typing:
"I am interested in learning more about the surrogacy opportunity.
Please contact me at your earliest convenience. Elena Martinez."
She hit send before she could change her mind.
Her phone rang immediately.
"Miss Martinez? This is Dr. Sarah Chen from Manhattan Fertility
Associates. Thank you for your interest in our surrogacy program."
The woman's voice was professionally warm, the kind doctors used to
deliver both good news and terrible diagnoses.
"I... yes, I saw your advertisement," Elena stammered.
"Wonderful. Are you available for an initial consultation tomorrow
morning? We're located in Midtown Manhattan."
"Tomorrow? That seems fast."
"Our client is very eager to begin the process. Time is a factor."
Elena thought of her father's three-month prognosis. "Yes, I can be
there tomorrow."
"Excellent. I'll email you the address and some preliminary paperwork.
Please bring identification, medical records, and be prepared for a
comprehensive interview."
After the call ended, Elena sat in the coffee shop, watching people live
their normal lives. Yesterday, she'd been a struggling law school
graduate working three jobs. Today, she was considering carrying a
stranger's baby for money.
Her laptop chimed with an email from Dr. Chen. The address was in one
of Manhattan's most expensive districts. Elena googled the building and
whistled softly. The pictures showed marble lobbies and doormen in
designer uniforms.
Whatever was offering half a million dollars for a surrogate wasn't
hurting for money.
Elena's phone buzzed with a text from the hospital: "Miss Martinez,
please call regarding your father's treatment schedule."
She deleted the message without reading it fully. First, she'd go to this
consultation. She'd learn what was expected, what the process involved,
and whether she could actually go through with it.
Then she'd decide if saving her father's life was worth nine months of
her own.
As Elena packed up her laptop, she caught her reflection in the coffee
shop window. She looked tired, desperate, exactly like someone who
would sell her body to save her family.
Maybe that's exactly what she was.
- Writer
