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Chapter 23: Breaks Jorge’s Spell
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Third Wheel Chapter 24: Salt, Tequila, and Lime
Taylor Continues Retelling Her StoryI wave them off as I head to the kitchen for another water. Jorge approaches as I finish a long refreshing drink from the bottle.“Can they search your apartment?” Acknowledging the question forming upon my lips, he continues, “They want to search for drugs that John may have hidden here. They believe he may have a stash and that is why he is so frantic about entering the apartment.” Placing a finger upon my lips to silence me, he finishes, “They will not hold you responsible if they find drugs. They only want to remove them to keep you safe.”I can’t speak. The mere mention that drugs might hide in my presence upsets me. I witness the destruction they reek on the students and their families every day at school. Congenital disabilities, learning disabilities, homelessness, foster care, and addiction to drugs affect many of my middle school students. The thought of such a vile substance in my apartment cripples me. I simply nod in agreement to the se
Third Wheel Chapter 25: My Nice-Guy-Radar Is Faulty
TaylorI meet Jorge’s eyes. In them I see his worry John physically abused me. “No, I feared he might, but he never crossed that line.” I reach for his hand, grasping it between my two, and I continue, “I returned from a trip to Washington D.C. with my students. I found women in bed with him. The apartment was a disaster. Drugs, used condoms, and trash were everywhere. That’s when I threw him out and changed the locks.” Jorge squeezes my hands. “We were over the minute I moved us to Chicago. He found work in a bar. He partied too much. He stayed out, sometimes overnight. We were two roommates, nothing more. It wasn’t a healthy relationship. I did what I had to, to protect myself. I should have found the strength to end it years ago. I just couldn’t bear the thought of being alone.”“But you were alone,” Jorge points out. “You cut ties with friends; you never went out, you worked, and cowered at home alone.”Ouch! The truth hurts.“I thought he was finally out of my life.” I whisper.“
Third Wheel Chapter 26: A Morning Wood!
Taylor Continues Retelling Her StoryI squint, assessing the seriousness of his question. “I lived with my grandmother on a farm in rural Missouri,” I begin. “My mom was in-and-out of my life from the age of four. I realized my education was my only way to escape my trailer-trash life. Cheerleading and straight A’s allowed me to attend college.”“I don’t see you as a goody-goody, snobby cheerleader,” he states.“I wasn’t. I made the grades with little effort, and cheerleading opened more scholarship money for me. Don’t get me wrong, I was good at it, but I lived three very different lives.” I pause, not believing I’m about to share this. I find Jorge too easy to talk to. “In school, I focused. I contributed. As a cheerleader, I was loud, energetic, and creative.” I sit up and sip from my water bottle.“And the third Taylor, what was she like?” Jorge prompts me to continue.Placing my head back on the pillow, I explain, “I partied. A lot. Weeknights and weekends. Alcohol turns off my an
Third Wheel Chapter 27: Busted
TaylorI rise from bed to an empty house. I glance at my phone to see it’s 9:15 a.m. It’s earlier than expected. I tidy up in my bathroom before fixing my toast. On the kitchen island, I find the list Kennedy and I created yesterday. I plan to make my friends’ lives easier while I live here. I plan to clean, shop, and run errands. Jackson claims he has no items for me to help with. Kennedy asks for my help with research on fertility, surrogacy, and a few phone calls. I start my to do list with a phone call.“Thank you for calling The Blue Agency. How may I assist you?” A friendly, female voice greets.“I have questions regarding my coverage,” I respond. I lightly cross off item number two on my list. Pretending to be Kennedy, I give details so the agent may pull up the policy under Jackson’s name through his employer. I ask if fertility treatments are covered and make a note on my list.“Is a surrogate covered?” I ask. At my question, the insurance woman asks me many questions. “Am I
Third Wheel Chapter 28: Need To Up Their Insurance Coverage
Taylor“I popped the popcorn to nibble on while watching the first movie. I moved to the ice-cream after seven, when I couldn’t reach you by text,” I explain. Jackson apologizes, stating, “There was a crisis at the store. I stayed until everything improved, instead of heading home to call and email the store every few minutes.”His white shirt is filthy. I see finger trails from rubbing his dirty hands on the rib area. I assume the blue ovals are detergent or liquid soap. He has a torn left knee in his black slacks. His dress shoes are dusty and scuffed. Whatever it was, it must have been a very messy crisis.“you should go change while I prepare you some dinner,” I encourage.“I can fix my own sandwich,” he states. “I have nothing else to do,” I inform.He drags himself up the stairs as I remain in the kitchen. While butter melts on the griddle, I assemble a ham and cheese sandwich. When the butter hisses, I place the bread in the pan. I quickly grab a fork to assist with flipping t
Third Wheel Chapter 29: Turkey Baster Method
TaylorJackson and I search for words to say.What?Why?How?What now?Are the only words I can come up with. Jackson stands from his chair, wrapping his wife in an embrace. I feel as I am trespassing witnessing this tender moment. “So, we find another way,” I suggest. “We make a new plan. We’re not giving up - this is just a speed bump.” I fight the urge to pace and the urge to hit or throw something. I cannot let her give up. “Ken,” I carefully address her. “Do you have anything in your notebook for this scenario?”I witness my words registering on Kennedy’s face. She pulls away from Jackson, her hands darting for her baby planning notebook. Jackson mouths ‘thank you’ over her shoulder.Kennedy frantically flips page after page, seeking the exact list. She turns more than ten pages in her notebook before finding the information she wants. “Ah-ha!” She shouts, tossing the open notebook in the center of the table. ‘Egg Donor’ heads the page in large bold writing.“I’ll do it!” I excl
Third Wheel Chapter 30: Did I Just Agree To Commit Insurance Fraud?
TaylorAn hour later, I’m on social media in my room.Kennedy as she lurks just outside my bedroom door.“Hey,” I greet.“Can I come in?” She asks. “Of course,” I reply.She joins me at the head of the bed, sitting with our backs against the headboard. “What are you doing?” she asks, peeking at my screen.I show her my Pinterest Boards and new pins I just discovered. As I explain, I find her too distracted to truly see the addiction that is Pinterest. “Spill the beans,” I tell her.“I have yet another favor to ask of you,” she nearly whispers.I search Kennedy’s face for any clues. She’s not sad or mad, stressed maybe.She continues, “I hate to even ask. You already agreed to be our surrogate and egg donor. I fear we’re taking advantage of you.”I place my left arm across her shoulders to pull her in a for a side-hug. “I’m here for you. You are my best friend. You know I would do anything for you.” I close my MacBook, placing it beside me on a pillow. I release Kennedy and turn to f
Third Wheel Chapter 31: Already Ratted Us Out
Taylor2:30 p.m.“Dr. Wilson will see you now,” the middle-aged, red-haired receptionist interrupts my perusal of a random waiting room magazine. Abandoning the tattered tabloid, I rise to enter the interior office of Dr. Wilson, Kennedy’s beloved therapist.I remind myself to keep an open mind. I need to work through my issues with men, and I need to discuss issues with the surrogacy that I can’t share with Kennedy or Jackson. Nervously, I will myself to place one foot in front of the other.I find Dr. Wilson seated behind an imposing, dark-wooden desk. She rises, adjusts her pencil skirt, and walks towards me, extending her right hand.“Taylor,” she greets with a firm handshake. “I’m Dr. Wilson.” She motions for me to take a seat. “You can call me Greta.”I believe she is already testing me. There are three chairs in the seating area to choose from. One, I think, is hers, sits next to a round table with a lamp. Another bright red, over-stuffed chair takes up space directly across fro
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