After a brief but fruitful interlude during which my brain and my muse came up with a brand new idea for a story (and consequently wrote the first chapter for it), I am back to give you chapter eleven of That Froghurt Guy. I think we're finally getting somewhere by the end of the chapter. So here goes.

Chapter 11

Steph could only stare as the young girl she'd given birth to went completely out of her mind. It was no wonder why, either. Imagine being cornered in a room by a little less than half a dozen burly he-men, having just been told that the person who you thought gave birth to you really didn't. In actuality, Steph supposed she was doing quite well in her reaction. She hadn't run screaming from the room - not that she could manage that very easily - and she was still conscious. They were good signs, weren't they?

As she watched, Amabel continued to scream in protestation, her face turning red and her hands gripping the back of the chair she'd been sitting on not long ago. Steph noticed that she used it as a kind of barrier between herself and the rest of the occupants of the room.

"Just calm down, Amabel," Lester was attempting to placate her. "We're not going to hurt you." Then he made one of the worst moves Steph had ever seen him make. He reached a hand out in Amabel's direction. She was sure he'd meant it as a soothing gesture, but in the girls mind it was a threat. Anything they did would be seen as a threat.

"Sit down and we can talk this out," Hank, ever the pragmatic soul, tried, but Amabel wasn't listening. Instead, she was thrusting her chair at Lester's knees, toppling him over, a quick scramble positioned another chair inner grasp and she began aiming for Hank.

Her breathing was laboured and there was a wild look in her eyes. She was acting like a caged animal. "Stay back," she warned, her gaze swinging from Hank, to Hal, to Carlos, to Steph before fixing on the door. "Leave me alone."

"Hank, Lester, Hal, leave," Steph commanded, hiking her thumb at the door. "Carlos, sit down and shut up. And Tank, bring Leah in here." As each command was given the men hopped to it like the well trained soldiers they were. Finally, Carlos was seated in the chair next to Stephanie, leaving Leah a clear path to the door if she so chose to leave.

"You can leave if that's what you really want," Carlos informed her. "No one will stop you. That card will let you out of the building and you never have to return."

She stared at him suspiciously. Like this was some kind of ploy to lull her into a false sense of security before dragging her into a holding cell.

Stephanie let out a sigh. "Would you prefer if Carlos left?" she asked. "We really would like to talk to you about this so that you understand."

*o*

I stared into her eyes, trying to figure out things that I had no clue about. If she really had given birth to me that would make her my biological mother, right? That would mean that Mom and Dad lied to me all these years. But then Stephanie had told her husband that I "wasn't hers." What exactly did that mean? Was she my mother or wasn't she? This woman needed to get her story straight.

Glancing from her to Carlos and back, I took a deep breath, trying to restore a sense of calm – if that was even possible right now – and get some air back into my lungs. I felt my shoulders heave with the effort of breathing as I continued to flit my gaze back and forth, trying to make my decision. I wasn't sure if I trusted Stephanie, but I was pretty darn certain that I didn't like Carlos. He had this weird expression on his face, like he was masking all his emotions. Freak. Finally, I settled my gaze on Steph and told her my decision. "Carlos is out, but I want Hank in here."

They both blinked at me, then at each other. Yeah, I'd confused them. I had a tendency to do that sometimes. I gave me the advantage of surprise and gave me a least a moment to take stock of the situation or whatever I needed to do at the time. At the moment, I just need a moment to breathe without them staring at me. It's kinda creepy having them watch as I tried to put myself back together. What made it worse was that it was their fault.

"Are you sure you want Hank?" Steph finally asked me as Carlos stood to leave. "Most people ask for Lester."

Yes, I thought. Which is exactly why I asked for Hank. I'd sensed that Lester quickly became the favoured guy. He was easy going, quick to laugh and appeared to have all the characteristics of a mischief maker. I could definitely see any other girl asking for Lester to be present in a situation like this. He acted like a dopey older brother. "I'm sure," I assured her, nodding my head. "Hank, not Lester." My decision for Hank had been made easier by the fact that he seemed to be looking out for my best interests. It started with the sunscreen and tan advice. Then yesterday he was the one to suggest that they explain the situation to me.

So once we were all settled at the table, me my side with a clear view of the door and an easy path to get there, Steph and Hank opposite me. Steph looked concerned, eyeing me cautiously and fidgeting in her seat. Meanwhile Hank had an expression of masked confusion. He didn't quite understand why he was here. I didn't quite understand why I was here either. If they weren't looking for my help with understanding Mom what were they after? And why were they lying to me about my birth in order to get it?

I folded my hands on the table top and looked Steph directly in the eye for the first time since my freak out. "What the hell is going on?" I demanded through clenched teeth. She opened her mouth to respond, but I cut her off. "Don't spin me any of your bogus lies. I want the truth."

Slowly, she took a deep breath in, absently rubbing the curve of her stomach. "I gave birth to you," she said calmly.

"Bull shit!" I yelled. "Stop lying!"

"I'm not lying," she explained. "I gave birth to you."

"You're not my mother." My hands, which I had worked so hard at relaxing, were once again clenched in fists on the table top. If I wasn't careful I'd start thumping them down in frustration. I retracted my hands from the table and lay them on the arms of the chair I was in, gripping the padding hard to keep from doing anything rash. Hank followed the movements with wary eyes, probably assessing the situation and the likelihood of me going berserk and striking out at one of them.

"No," Steph said softly. "I'm not your mother."

"Then why do you keep telling me you gave birth to me?" I demanded harshly.

She took another deep breath. "Because I did."

"You didn't!"

Steph shook her head and looked over at Hank, like he was going to be of any help. He look just as clueless as I felt. "Maybe we should wait for Leah," she suggested, still looking at Hank, but I had a feeling the statement was directed at me. "She could probably explain it better than me."

I rolled my eyes at her. "Not to mention I could tell if she was lying to me," I retorted. "I don't know you from a bar of soap."

"I'll go see where Tank is," Hank supplied, rising from his chair before either of us could tell him to stop. He didn't even have to leave the room though. As soon as he opened the door, Tank was standing there.

"She's escaped," I heard him say quietly to Hank.

Escaped. That sounded to me like they were holding her captive. Not that it surprised me, given recent events. I mean, come on. They must all be insane. Maybe I was actually playing with the inmates of a mental institution. That would explain all this crazy talk.

"How could she have escaped?" Hank was asking.

Tank gave him a look that immediately shut him up. It was plain to see who was in charge in that relationship. "Just don't let Amabel leave. We need to get this sorted today." With that, Tank pulled the door closed, leaving Hank staring at the back of it.

"So," I said. "Tell your story. If you really gave birth to me – which I still don't believe, BTW – how is it I ended up with Mom?"

She sighed. "I was in college. A sophomore. And your Mom had recently graduated and gotten married. I'd shared a dorm with her for a year and we were kind of friends, so we kept in touch. One day we met for lunch, it was pretty late in the semester. She was telling me about how much she and her husband wanted to have a baby, but no matter how often they tried or what the conditions were like when they did, she couldn't fall pregnant. Apparently she'd been to a gynaecologist the week before and told that it was physically impossible for her to fall pregnant."

Okay. That was a bit confusing. But I think I was starting to see where this was going.

"It really broke my heart to see her so down. She really wanted to give James a child. The tension of the situation was hurting their relationship. So I made her an offer. I did it without thinking about the consequences for myself, but she'd hurriedly thanked me for the offer and called James to let him know the news. After that things happened fairly quickly. By the end of the semester I was pregnant. I went home for the holidays, promising to keep in touch with her. I figured I could spend this vacation at home and pretend everything was normal. Hopefully I wouldn't start to show before the next semester started. I did continue to go to school. I got through another semester no worries, but there was no way I could go home for vacation now. Everyone would know. The 'Burg would look on me with even more disgrace than they already did. So I stayed with Leah for the four weeks, and then continued living there until the baby was born. You. Until you were born.

"I'd had a choice in regards to my schooling for that semester. I could either continue for as long as I was comfortable and then just allow myself to fail overall. Or I could just defer. Given that I was planning on telling my family that I'd failed the semester anyway, it seemed logical to do the former. So I failed. And spent time getting my body back to normal. When I finally returned home after college no one was any the wiser."

I stared at her as she grew quiet. Apparently that was the end of her story. It didn't really answer all the questions zooming around my head. Like, sure, she explained how she gave birth to me but, how I'm actually Mom's. But there were bigger questions here. Really massive questions looming over my head. She was ignoring the pink elephant in the room.

"Who is my mother?" I asked her, articulating each word very carefully to avoid any confusion.

"Leah is," she said, readily enough.

"Leah is my Mom," I agreed. "Who is my biological mother."

Steph looked up at me. "Leah."

A growl of frustration ripped from my throat and I felt the urge to start pacing, which I more than happily gave in to. It was much easier to not leap across the table and shake them if I was moving aobut.. "I don't understand!" I exclaimed. "How does that work?"

"Surrogacy," Hank said in a hushed tone. "Leah's egg, fertilised with James's sperm was implanted into Steph's body."

I glanced up from my pacing, pausing for a mere moment to see if Steph confirmed it. She nodded politely, rubbing her stomach again. And just like that, all the wind went out of my sails. I plonked my body back in the chair and stared at the table. "Oh," I murmured. "That must be what Mom was referring to at the beach."

At that moment an anguished cry – a very familiar anguished cry – carried through the closed conference room door, making both Hank and Steph sit a little straighter in their chairs. I, on the other hand, slumped a little lower. Mom was so embarrassing sometimes. Probably, she could have saved us all this trouble and confusion by, I don't know, letting the big burly men know why she was here? They seemed perfectly okay with it now that it was all out there. Maybe if she'd said something about it we could have gotten it over with days ago and gone to the beach, rather than pussyfoot around telling lies all over the place.

"NO!" I heard Mom cry out. "I need to find Steph! Let go of me!"

I looked from Steph to Hank and asked, "Is it alright if I go see what's going on?" They nodded their ascent, not that I was going to sit around twiddling my thumbs if they said no, and I made my way to the door. I opened it and calmly stuck my head out. Lester was standing beside the door but none of the other men who'd been there earlier were anywhere in sight.

"What's up, Amabel?" he asked

"I heard my Mom," I informed him. "Are they bringing her this way?" He pointed toward the other side of the room, and sure enough, there was Mom, held on both arms by more big burly men, with Tank trailing behind them. I stuck my hand into the air and waved. "Mom, relax," I called. "She's over here."

Her head shot up and her eyes pinned me to where I stood. That was the beginnings of panic face. Joy. "Amabel?" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

I shrugged and leaned against the door frame, trying for casual and almost succeeding. "Oh, you know, this and that. Learning about my birth mother. That kind of thing."

Aaaaaaand she fainted. Just like that. Good thing the BBMs were holding her up.

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