Next Steps
1571 Words
CAMELLIA
Two days later...
It's been two days since I went to the clinic. Two days since I went to work.
The bar still remained the same. Nothing had changed, yet everything had.
I stood behind the counter tying my apron, my fingers fumbling with the knot. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Sleep had barely touched me since the clinic.
Every time I closed my eyes, numbers floated behind my lids. Loan balances, interest rates, that compensation figure Lina had said so calmly, like it wasn’t a lifeline.
“Hey.” Maya’s voice cut through the noise.
I looked up. She stood at the end of the bar, arms folded, eyes sharp but worried.
Not angry. She's never angry, and that somehow made my chest hurt more.
“Hey,” I said.
We stared at each other for a moment, the space between us heavy with what I hadn’t said the night I stormed out.
“I owe you an apology,” I said finally.
Maya raised an eyebrow. “For what?”
“For leaving mid-shift. For causing a scene. For… everything.”
She sighed and leaned her elbows on the counter. “Cam, you didn’t cause a scene. He grabbed you.”
“I still shouldn’t have left you short-staffed.”
She waved it off. “I locked the door early. Anyone who complained got told to drink somewhere else.”
I blinked. “You did what?”
“I own the place,” she said simply. “I can do that.”
Something warm and painful spread through my chest. I looked down at the counter, blinking hard.
“I hate that it happened here,” I said. “I hate that you had to deal with it.”
Maya softened. “I hate that some men still think they can put their hands on women and walk away.”
I nodded. Silence stretched between us, filled with clinking glasses and low music.
“You okay?” she asked quietly.
The question cracked something open.
Maya is my best friend. I don't like keeping secrets from her.
I opened my mouth, closed it, then let out a breath that felt like it had been trapped in my lungs for years.
“No,” I said.
Her gaze sharpened. “Talk to me.”
I hesitated. My fingers curled into the edge of the counter. This was the part I had been avoiding. The part I knew would change things.
“I went to a fertility clinic,” I said.
Maya screamed with her sharp voice. “What?”
"Shhhhhhh. Keep your voice down, Maya." I half yelled. “I applied to be a surrogate.”
The words landed between us, loud even over the music.
Maya stared at me like I had spoken another language. “You what?”
“I’m getting paid,” I rushed on. “A lot. Enough to clear my student loans. Enough to breathe.”
Her mouth opened. Closed. She dragged a hand through her curls.
“Camellia,” she said slowly, “tell me you’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
“You hate hospitals,” she said. “You faint at the sight of needles.”
“I’ll manage.”
“You barely eat when you’re stressed.”
“I’ll learn.”
“You don’t even like kids.”
“That’s not true,” I snapped, then softened. “I just… I don’t have room for them right now.”
Maya laughed, sharp and disbelieving. “So your solution is to grow one?”
“It’s not mine,” I said. “It’s theirs. I’m just carrying.”
Her eyes flashed and opened widely.
One thing I love about Maya's physique is her close curly hair and big eyes.
“You’re not an incubator.”
“I know that.”
“Then why does this sound like you’re treating yourself like one?”
I flinched.
“I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d react like this,” I said quietly.
She leaned back, crossing her arms. “So you knew it was a bad idea.”
“No,” I said. “I knew you’d try to save me.”
Her expression faltered.
“I don’t need saving,” I went on. “I need money. I need out. I can’t keep living like this, Maya. I can’t keep pretending another double shift will fix my life.”
“I would help you,” she said immediately. “You know that.”
“I know,” I said. “And that’s exactly why I can’t take it.”
She frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means I won’t turn you into my solution,” I said. “I won’t owe you my future.”
“You already do,” she said. “We’ve been friends since we were broke and stupid together.”
“That’s different,” I said, my voice shaking. “This is my mess.”
She opened her mouth to argue again, but my phone buzzed on the counter.
I froze.
Maya noticed immediately. “Who is that?”
I looked at the screen.
Lina:
Your test results are back. Everything looks good. You can come in to proceed with the remaining steps.
My throat tightened.
Remaining steps.
Blood work, hormone injections, legal contracts, and transfer preparation. These things made everything more real in a way that signing those papers hadn’t.
“What?” Maya pressed.
“They got my results,” I said. “They want me to come in.”
Her eyes widened. “Already?”
I nodded and showed her the message from Lina.
“What does that even mean?”
“It means I’m medically cleared,” I paused. “Next is legal matching and prep for transfer.”
Her face was drained of color. “Cam…”
“The money is big,” I said quickly, before she could say anything else. “Big enough that I won’t have to stand behind this bar forever. Big enough that I can finally start something of my own.”
“You don’t need to sell your body to do that.”
“I’m not selling my body,” I said, louder than I meant to. A few heads turned. I lowered my voice. “I’m using it. There’s a difference.”
She shook her head. “You’re putting yourself through nine months of risk for strangers.”
“I put myself through risk every night here,” I shot back. “At least this one pays.”
“That’s not fair,” she said with her voice low.
“It’s true.”
She leaned closer, voice dropping. “I can lend you money. Not all of it, but enough to ease the pressure. We can figure out the rest together.”
My chest tightened painfully.
“No.”
“Camellia—”
“No,” I said again. “I won’t accept it.”
“Why are you so stubborn and determined to suffer alone?” she demanded.
“Because this is my responsibility,” I said, my eyes burning. “Because I signed my name on those loan papers, and I’m tired of being the friend who always needs help.”
“You’re not a burden,” she said fiercely.
Tears spilled from my eyes before I could stop them.
“I feel like one,” I whispered.
The bar blurred. My shoulders shook, the weight of everything crashing down at once. The debt. The fear. The quiet shame of being educated and broke and exhausted all the time.
Maya came around the counter and pulled me into her arms. I clung to her like I was drowning.
“I don’t support this,” she said softly into my hair. “I hate it. I think it’s dangerous and unfair and that you deserve better.”
I nodded, pressing my face into her shoulder.
“But,” she continued, “it’s your life.”
I pulled back, wiping my cheeks.
“And I won’t abandon you,” she added. “Even if I don’t agree with this crazy idea.”
I managed a weak smile. “I knew you’d say that.”
She snorted. “Of course you did. That’s why you didn’t tell me.”
I looked down at my phone again, Lina’s message still glowing.
Maya stiffened. “You’re really going to reply?”
I nodded. “I have to.”
My fingers hovered over the screen, then typed.
When can I come in?
Her reply came faster than I expected.
As soon as possible. A family is very interested in moving forward.
My stomach flipped. Somewhere, people I had never met were waiting for a body like mine to carry their future.
I locked my phone and slipped it back into my apron.
Maya watched me, her eyes filled with worry and something like grief.
“Whatever happens,” she said, “you call me. Day or night.”
“I will.”
“You don’t go through this alone,” she added.
I nodded.
But as I turned back to the bar, the weight in my chest told me something else entirely.
Whatever family was waiting on the other end of that text message was about to change everything.
And that the life I was trying so desperately to escape was already closing in around me.
- Writer
