She awoke. Sweat matted her blonde hair into darkened swirls. Her eyes circled the edges of her vision. Everything was blurry and still. Reaching over, she groped for her glasses. Putting them on, they sank into the two small depressions in her nose. Further burrowing into their home; the place they've gradually deepened for years. She propped a pillow behind her and turned on the lamp. The yellow light cast no warmth into the room; instead, it gave off a sickly hue.
The dream had her shaking. She looked to her side. The empty space in the bed lay next to her grinning. She shuddered and turned away. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she put her feet down on the cold, wooden floor and stood up.
The thought entered her mind again. She tried to shake it out. To think of anything else in the world. But the more she thought about not thinking about it, the more it stuck. Clinging stubbornly to her consciousness.
She walked to the window, pulled back the clean white curtains and looked out into the pitch of the night. The air was swelling. Clotting. Preying. She was afraid.
…
The baby cried again, louder this time. She nudged her husband with her foot beneath the sheets.
“Honey, please. I just got to sleep.”
That was a lie. She hadn't slept at all. In fact, she had been lying there for the past four hours waiting for that very cry. Piercing, shrill, almost otherworldly. It screeched again and she jabbed her heel into his shin. He jerked out of bed.
“Okay, okay. I'll get her.
He stumbled out of the room. She listened as his grogginess faded down the hallway. The room was finally still, but it felt the same. As though the ceiling was pushing down on the walls. Bowing them slightly from the strain of the roof. She imagined sinking into the bed until it swallowed her up. She'd never seen quicksand in real life but liked the thought of it slowly devouring whatever was stuck, whole. Or, she thought, like bread dough before all of the flour gets added. Its stickiness clinging to her skin as the weight from her body slowly sinks her further and further, down and whole.
“She just lost her pacifier.” He said, sludging back into bed. “Try to get some sleep, honey.” He patted her arm. Then he rolled away from her onto his side. Within a few seconds, he was snoring.
She stared at the bald swirl forming on the back of his head. It looked smooth and dull and she had a strong desire to flick it as hard as she could. His snores grew in volume. So she rolled her eyes, turned and looked at the ceiling.
The waiting began again. The clock changed the minute. The house popped with its pains. She listened for the next screech to come howling back from the dark part of the house. The hairs on her arm stood up.
…
The baby was kicking her bladder again. She hated how much she had to pee all the time. The line for the bathroom was long and the baby wouldn't stop pressing and pressing. The first pregnancy wasn't this bad. She couldn't remember the first one ever kicking her this much. The line moved up a bit. A lady with brown lipstick and grey hair looked at her through the mirror while washing her hands.
“Well, I'll be! Is that you?” the woman turned the faucet off and rushed to dry her hands with paper towels, fixating on her and her pregnant belly the entire time.
She didn't know who the woman was. Throwing on a smile, she said, “Hi! How are you?” She studied the woman's face. Hoping for some sign of recognition, but nothing about this stranger looked familiar.
“Goodness, it's been a long time! I can't believe you're pregnant again! So soon! How far along are you?”
The woman obviously knew who she was. She knew about her first child. But she still couldn't place her. “About seven months actually. Ready for her to get out.”
“Oh, it's another precious little girl. How wonderful! You must be thrilled.”
She mustered up a yes. The line moved forward. There was a moment of silence, the woman smiled at her. She noticed a smudge of brown lipstick on her teeth. Then the lady looked down at her stomach again.
“May I?” she said reaching her long fingers out toward her. Before she could answer, the woman was touching her belly. The baby kicked her bladder hard, and she winced a bit. “Oh! How lovely!” the woman exclaimed. “She's dancing for me.” Her hands staying on the stomach.
The baby began kicking harder and faster. She thought she might urinate herself at any moment. Looking down at her stomach and the stranger's hands, she saw her stomach move. The skin stretched and pulled. Every push, a form became more visible. It was like someone, something was trying to push itself out through the middle of her abdomen. She looked up at the lady in horror, expecting to see the same look of shock mirrored back to her. But the lady was smiling and looking at her stomach as if nothing was wrong. The line moved forward.
She awkwardly stepped back away from the hands and the woman. “Sorry, I, uh, bathroom's free. Don't want to hold up the line. It was good seeing you.” She didn't even look back as she rushed through the empty stall door and locked it quickly behind her. The baby wasn't moving anymore. She lifted her shirt over the bump and examined her skin. It was normal. It was all very normal.
…
“I don't understand why we have to have this party. It's not like she's going to remember it.”
“C'mon, hun. It's more for memories. Besides, how horrible can a birthday for a one-year-old be? We're only having a few of the neighbor kids over. I'm here, their parents are going to be here, any minute I might add. It won't be that overwhelming.”
She replied to him with an okay and an elongated sigh. Giving a quick glance around the room, she made sure everything was in place.
The doorbell chimed. She took a deep breath and put a determined smile on her face.
“Hi!” She drew on her hospitable, southern accent as much as she could. “So glad y'all could make it. Come in, come in.” She ushered in the neighbors; man and wife and their 10-month-old girl, who sucked her thumb as she was toted around on the woman's bony hip.
“Hey neighbors! Welcome, good to see you” The husbands shook hands and her husband patted his arm with his other hand. She hated how touchy feely he was. He smiled at the neighbor wife, then poked the little girl under her arm pit. “And what are you doing, huh?” She giggled and he wriggled his finger around. “What's so funny? You quit laughing now!” He joked. Then he turned toward her, “Honey, where are the girls at?” He asked eagerly.
She nodded and turned towards the other room with her paper smile still glued on her face. She walked down the silent hall, cracked the girls' bedroom door and poked her head in.
“Girls?”
The room was empty. She took a half step into the room and looked around again. They were not in the bedroom. Stepping out, she closed the bedroom door and turned around. Both girls were standing directly behind her. Alarmed, she jumped back a bit, then tried to channel her sudden fear into anger.
“Christine! How did you get Elley out of her crib?” She demanded.
“Mommy look it!” Christine extended her pudgy toddler arm as far away from her body as she could.
“What is it sweetie?” she said with annoyance.
“My friend. So pretty, so red. See? Look it!”
She leaned down to examine the contents in her three-year old’s balled up hand. Just as she got within a foot away, she noticed the red. It began seeping from the cracks of Christine's tiny little fist. It was blood. The bright liquid started gushing down her small wrist and streamed down her arm onto her clothes. It seemed to pulse out from the small crevices of her clinched fist. The red flowed everywhere. She grabbed her daughter's arm.
“What did you do? What did you do? Open your hand!” she panicked. She forced Christine’s hand open; the blood was gone.
“It's a pretty bug Mommy!”
A ladybug crawled around on the child's pink palm and up her forefinger. Upon reaching the fingertip, it spread its wings and flew off down the hallway.
She followed the bug with her eyes, then looked down at both her daughters. The baby was drooling a stringy puddle on the floor. Christine bent over into a little ball and began talking to Elley while fixing her white, frilled sock, so that the ruffles were going the same direction. She stared at them with uneasiness. A small, sharp pain winced her right temple.
“Honey! Are you coming?” She heard her husband shout from the living room.
“Yeah, I was just making sure the girls were ready.” She picked up the baby and took her toddler's hand.
“Let's go Christine. It's time for Elley's party.” she said, leading her with shortened steps down the hall.