From the Desk of Director Sarah Martinez, Entry 6
October 14, 2101
Yesterday was Eric’s 14th birthday.
Goddammit, what is wrong with me? No, he’s not my son. Well, he is, but he’s not.
Can’t explain this in writing any better than in person, I guess.
Connie wanted two kids, but after the emergency surgery from when Jewel was born, she couldn’t have anymore. Which is why she and Krish asked me to donate eggs.
I mean, I still owed her for when I popped her in the nose, so I said yes. That’s what friends do, right? Help each other out in impossible situations? And it’s not like I had to carry him; they hired a surrogate for that.
Eric looks like my dad. Even through the thick, black hair from Krish…
There. I said it. He looks and acts like my dad. He’s all jerky, moving all the time like a fucking puppet with a drunk puppeteer.
Okay, that’s not true. He’s just a kid, but whenever he moves that little shock of panic fills my chest and it takes everything I have not to run away.
I just hope Connie raises him in a way that keeps him from becoming the same as my dad. She knows what happened, after all. Wasn’t going to curse her to something unless she was ready to take ownership over it. And she did.
Connie and Krish did. Eric is a fine kid. He’s smart and nerdy, but also plays on a semi-pro gaming league. He’s always covered in Ladders swag.
Yeah, he’s a good kid. I’m just a broken adult.
Two minutes left, but I don’t have any free time left today.
I’m gonna call him.
See you Monday.
— Sayre
P.S.
I tasked his mother with extra work to cover for me on her son’s birthday. I am a horrible person.
That is all.
