Tigger has been gone for a few weeks by now, but I miss those late evening walks so much. I took one solo to walk off the huge platter of Indian food a few friends and I shared earlier in the evening. Pretty balmy tonight, making for perfect walking weather. Stroll I did and when nearly done I went searching for her. The usual spots were empty and I worried she had left the neighborhood. I walked all the way around just to make sure and there I saw her inside the gated park. Tonight she could sleep serenely, knowing noboby will steal her belongings. The gates lock everyone out so she can enjoy a good night’s sleep inside. Makes me rest easier seeing her so comfortable on a warm night. I am so hoping I can tell this woman’s story on film. Maybe I will take a room at the Park Hotel once and if my condo actually sells. The Indian grandfather told me through puffs of cigarette smoke that he charges $150 a week. This brick building sits right across the park where Jewel lives.
A friend told me at a sobriety meeting that my maternal side is spiking unusually high. Maybe so and maybe because I’m back in the surrogacy game. My first conversation with a new potential surrogate flowed easy enough. Next Saturday I will meet her. The spark of connection reminded me of my first meeting with Elimisha Fussell. We laughed for several hours and connected. Or so I thought, of course. Starting over again reminds me that I actually took the process pretty serious and treated Ms. Fussell decent. I can still recall the many times I would fill a bag of expensive groceries and deliver to her. Who would intentionally hurt someone as she planned and plotted for so long? For the money? Unlikely because the amount remained pretty low by average surrogacy fees. So, why then? Strange. Most likely just the adrenalin rush of seeing someone suffer. Evidence for this exists in the last month they ran me around everywhere. Completely unnecessary. Their game was already up. They just did the chase for the pure demented thrill of manipulating another human being. Must say–doesn’t feel so good to write these words. Perhaps the super scary part is what childhood condition would hardwire an adult to enjoy watching another person squirm. Probably a statistical certainty that Ms. Fussell and her gang experienced similar sadistic suffering; it’s just this time, unlike when they were children, they had all the control. Not any more, of course, since now all I need to pursue is relentless focus on justice. Because whatever reason drives people to behave inhumanely, they are still accountable. Always will be until restitution is made, even if just by expressing remorse. We will see what follows.
My vote is on faith. Keeping it so that I eventually become a mother, an effortless goal for so many and yet a challenge for me so far. I still have all the baby supplies, including all the clothes, so I am ready well in advance. I’ll just rely on blind faith then. That’s enough–more than enough.
