The Surrogate

by Freida McFadden

All we get on the landline are telemarketers. Then again, I wouldn’t mind yelling at a telemarketer right now.

sounds like my grandma

That’s the best part about having a landline. You can slam it down. You don’t get the joy of slamming a phone down when you’re on a cell phone. What can you do—press “end call” really angrily?

Denise doesn’t find children cute. She could look at a little girl like this one, shrug her shoulders, and go right back to texting on her phone.

Relatable

I grab him by the arm. Ooh, nice biceps. Thanks, Gym Membership.

“Life lesson—you can’t trust men. None of them.”

Whenever I get a headache, it’s always in my left temple. Why is that? Is it a sign of a tumor?

hey me too

He’s being a gentleman like I told him to. I wish he would cut it out.

I know she’s going to say, “I told you so.” And I don’t need an “I told you so” right now. But on the other hand, I need to talk to someone about this.

I don’t take meth. I don’t even know how to take meth? Do you snort it? Smoke it? Chew it? Mix it in a blender with bananas and yogurt?

“He winked at you!” my mother cries triumphantly. “So?” “So you should go talk to him.” I gape at her. “I’m not going to do that!” “Why not?” “Because I’m married to another man?” “Yes, well, it’s good to have a backup, isn’t it?”

Jesus christ

“Abby.” His voice softens. “Don’t cry.” Nope. Still crying. I don’t think I can stop.

I’m not a crier. I never cry. Maybe once a year, I have one big epic cry just to get all my frustration out of my system, then I’m good for the next three-hundred-and-sixty-four days.

Hey me too

“She put a lock on her door, so how could we, right? But she was convinced. She said she was putting a camera in there, so she’d know if we went in.”

Oop guilty of this one

“You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.” No, I’m just hungover. But I don’t say that.