It might make me somewhat of a masochist, but I was glad that I’d overheard that conversation. It made me aware of who I was really dealing with and what this whole arrangement really meant to him. He’d sounded so businesslike, so professional, talking to another woman about her fertility. He was thinking about cancelling my “contract” without even discussing it with me first. I had to stop on my way to the hotel and buy a bottle of tums. My stomach was still churning over it all.
Before I left the apartment I’d cleaned up the breakfast dishes and sat down to compose a note for my “boss.” I wasn’t sure at first what to say, but I decided to just let the words in my heart pour out through my pen: