Monica opened her eyes and again found herself standing in her living room. Jacob was clearly distraught, she saw tears in his eyes, and their son stood off to the side in shocked bewilderment as he watched his mother.
“Hey,” Jacob said, holding his hands out as if he were approaching a circus lion. “It's okay. It's okay, we're here.”
Monica glanced around the room, realizing it wasn't nighttime at all, it was just as bright as it had been when she and Jacob had arrived home from the grocery store. Princess Jasmine rubbed against her leg, sending a shiver down Monica's spine.
“But Zach was —”
“Up in his room, listening to music,” Jacob said.
“Mom? You okay?”
Monica's blank stare did nothing to make her son feel better about what had happened. She opened her mouth, closed it again, suddenly feeling violently ill. She ran to the bathroom and locked the door behind her.
Oh, what it is to be you. What it is to live your fucking life .
Monica crossed the room in two great strides, opening the toilet bowl and dropping to her knees. Tears streamed from her eyes as she vomited again and again, her body shaking.
Jacob tried the bathroom door, calling, "Monica! Please open this door right now."
For all you know he's not even really there. You have lost your grip on reality. You can't even trust yourself.
“Go away!” she said.
“You know I can't do that.”
Monica could hear Zach crying now, asking what was wrong with mom. She could feel a tingling sensation under her shirt. The voices outside the door became muffled as she stood, glanced in the mirror and slowly lifted her shirt.
There, on her belly, were barely visible markings raised on her skin like burn scars.
Symbols.
Just as Jacob broke down the door, Monica passed out.
—
The shades were pulled shut when Monica woke. She could hear talking and laughing from down the hall, and she wasn't sure how long she had been out. Slowly, she climbed out from underneath the sheets and padded across the bedroom floor, making her way to the door and peering out into the hall. There was no one there. No Tall Man either.
Thank God for small favors.
She walked to the kitchen where she found Jacob and Zach eating a breakfast of waffles, bacon, and eggs. Jacob looked up when she entered the room. “There she is! How are you feeling?”
“I don't know,” Monica said. “What happened?”
“What happened is you had a hard day, yesterday. You just needed the rest is all.”
Zach said, "We have to go buy a new bathroom door today.” Then he ran over and gave his mom a hug. “We were worried about you,” he said.
“I feel a lot better,” Monica said. She looked at Jacob. “What about my—”
“I managed to get you to take some of your medicine last night,” he said. “It wasn't easy, but I called the doctor after you passed out, and they said it was important that you get some of it in your system immediately.”
“You called the doctor?”
Jacob nodded. “Of course I did. Like Zach said, we were worried. I didn't know if I needed to take you to the hospital or something.”
Monica looked down at the table and frowned.
“Hey,” Jacob said. “It's going to be okay. I want you to know that the doctor told me that we should see a remarkable change in you with this new medicine.”
You would like that wouldn't you?
Monica didn't know what to say. She did feel better, already, but there was something about the way Jacob had said that. “Well, that's good I guess,” she said, finally.
Jacob walked over to Monica and wrapped his arms around her, caressing her hair, and it was all she needed to make her feel better—to remind her that he really did care. “I have to go to work now,” he said. Monica hadn't even thought about that, he had already missed yesterday to take her to the doctor, and already, he was late today. Jacob seemed to understand exactly what was going through Monica's mind, and he said, “Hey, they're good people. They are very understanding, I'm lucky. Don't worry about it.”
Monica smiled. She wanted to tell him what she had seen in the woods, but he would be leaving soon, and she didn’t want to slow him down any further. She’d have to remember to tell him later.
“I did ask Zach to keep you company today,” Jacob said. “You know, just in case—”
“I get it,” she interrupted. “You don’t have to explain.”
Jacob nodded. “We just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I know.”
Jacob kissed Monica. “Are you sure you're feeling better?” he asked.
No.
“Yes, definitely. I think the sleep helped a lot.”
Monica didn't really feel different in any particular way, she just knew she wasn't currently imagining she was standing in the forest being stabbed in the belly, and that had to be a good thing.
“Okay, I'll see you guys later,” Jacob said. He grabbed his keys and headed for the door and Monica and Zach told him goodbye.
Once Jacob was gone, there was a tension in the air thick enough to slice with a knife. There was something about a child being told to look after their parent, what was worse was when that parent had just had a psychotic breakdown a couple days before, nearly harming that child.
“Zach,” Monica said, but she didn't know what she meant to say after that. “I'm… I'm really sorry for what happened. That wasn't me.”
“I know. It's okay.” He took a small bite of eggs and shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal at all, but Monica could see it behind those eyes—he was her son—there was no fooling her. She’d scared him, and she could never take that back.
—
Monica spent much of her day tending to the animals in the backyard. She took it easy, being sure to take breaks often. It was an especially hot summer.
Zach was gracious enough to pretend he wasn't watching her, always standing off to the side, seemingly doing something else. He practiced throwing a baseball into the air and catching it in his non-gloved hand for about three hours. Monica imagined Jacob had probably given him the number to the local police department, and maybe even to the loony bin.
Stop thinking that way.
I can't help it.
She knew Jacob wouldn't be at work right now if he hadn't just started a new job. But since he really didn't have much of a choice, he had casually played it off and made it seem like no big deal.
Maybe if you were working he wouldn't have to work so hard.
At lunch, Monica took her medicine again. She made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for Zach and herself, being sure to cut off the crust the way he liked it. They spent the afternoon watching most of the Back to the Future trilogy—or as Zach liked to call them, ‘The Greatest Movies of All Time.’
“You're growing up too fast,” Monica said. “I wish you didn't have to go back to school in a few days, I miss when we used to hang out all the time.”
Zach laughed. “You mean when I was in preschool?”
“Yeah, something like that.” Monica went into the kitchen to make some popcorn while Zach fiddled with his Game Boy on the couch. She stood at the island and buried her face in her arms, quietly sobbing.
What have you become?
What have you ever been?
“Mom?”
She hastily shoved the popcorn bag into the microwave and pressed start.
“Yeah?” She turned tried her hardest to pretend she didn’t see The Tall Man standing in the doorway. She could feel her heart rate increasing, but then she calmed down, reminding herself that he wasn't real.
He wasn't there.
“Just making sure you're okay.”
The microwave beeped. “For sure.” Monica smiled.
The Tall Man was gone.
“I’m great.”
—
The next few days went by too quickly for Monica's liking, and suddenly she found herself telling her son goodbye as he got on the bus to school. And there she was, alone again. Things had been better for her since she had changed medications, it was a bit of a miracle, really—well, except for the nausea and vomiting, that had been the worst—but Monica had called the doctor, and the nurse had reassured her that it should subside soon. Soon couldn't come quickly enough.
“Good morning, babies,” Monica said as she strolled through the backyard. She was very grateful to Jacob for the fence and her animals. They did make her feel better, but Monica still felt something tugging at her, some want for human connection.
A friend.
Asmodeus and Billie Jean had gotten much better about letting Monica approach Chipper, now only making small grunting sounds when somebody came close. Already Monica could tell that Chipper was growing just fine, and he had an appetite to match. She replaced their water and gave them some fresh hay, patting the three of them on the head as she passed them.
“You know what?” she said to them, “they say talking to yourself makes you crazy, so what does it make you if you talk to animals who can't respond?”
Billie Jean offered a bleat in reply.
Monica laughed. “I guess you can respond, can't you?”
She found herself done with the chores before 10 AM, finding herself wandering around the house doing everything except what she needed to be doing—writing. She was very good at avoiding that.
She sat on the couch holding a cup of coffee between her palms, staring into the backyard, past the chicken coop and the goat house, past the back of the fence line—into those terrible woods.
Something isn't right out there.
“I'm so fucked up,” she whispered to nobody.
Monica kept herself busy until lunch time, flipping the channels on the TV. At lunch, she made herself a salad with a small bowl of soup. It was one of the few things that didn't upset her stomach lately.
As she sipped her soup, she noticed a small white card sticking out from underneath the vase of flowers in the center of the table. She picked up the card and thumbed it over— it was from Sydney Rawlings at the grocery store, her phone number was scribbled on the back.
Monica had completely forgotten about her. She set the card down and looked outside again.
You're not that desperate yet, are you?
She poked at her salad for a while longer, and then finally she picked up the card and stuck it in her pocket, sighing. How bad could it be?
Monica paced the hallway, clutching the phone in her hand, the length of coil gathering around her feet. "This is silly," she said out loud. "Just call the damn woman and get it over with. It's not like I've ever had the luxury of being choosy." She dialed Sydney's number and leaned against the wall while the phone rang on the other end.
Maybe she won't answer.
Probably that's for the best.
“Hello?” came Sydney's voice from the other end after the third ring. A few more seconds of silence went by as Monica froze. “Hello? Is anyone there?”
“Sydney? This is Monica Dresden. We met at the supermarket?”
Monica nearly had to hold the phone away from her head when Sydney said, “Yes! How have you been? I was hoping you would call.” Monica had to laugh a little on the inside, she wasn't used to somebody as boisterous as Sydney Rawlings, and she certainly wasn't the outgoing type herself. But she always seemed to find those kind of friends, if she found any at all—it turns out reclusive, awkward, quiet people were rarely friends with each other.
“Monica? Are you there?”
Monica fidgeted with the cord, “Yes, I'm sorry. I've just had a lot on my mind lately.” She couldn't believe what she was about to ask. “I guess,” she began, “I guess I was just wondering if you'd like to come over sometime for some coffee. Maybe you can give me the town history, so to speak. Sounds like you know a lot about this area.”
“Girl, I would love to!” Sydney nearly squealed. “Tomorrow work for you? 9 o'clock okay?”
Monica said that it was, and gave Sydney directions. As they said their goodbyes, she regretted it already.
—
Later that night as they lie there in bed, reading, Monica said, “So, I did a thing today. You may or may not be proud of me.”
“Oh yeah?” Jacob put his arm around her. “And what was that?”
“I kind of, well, I invited that lady over for coffee tomorrow. You know, the politician lady?”
Monica tried to read Jacob's face but it was nearly impossible. Finally he said, “Yeah? I think that will be good. I mean, I know we were poking fun at her, but—”
“I know, I don't care about that. She does seem a little weird, but I'm weird, so—”
“You're not weird.”
“You can say whatever you want,” Monica said, “but I would beg to differ.” She decided to change the subject. “Do you think Zach is scared of me now?”
Jacob let out a small sigh. “I talked to him,” he said. “I think he gets it. He loves you, I wouldn't worry about it.” And then, “How have you been feeling, though? Any more. . . issues?”
Monica thought for a moment. She had seen things here and there, heard things, but it was nothing like before. She was beginning to feel almost normal. “No,” she said, simply.
And that was that.
—
The next morning Monica was a nervous wreck, already having consumed 3 cups of coffee before she heard the knock at the front door.
This is it. This is your chance to have a friend .
Monica pulled back the curtains and saw Sydney Rawlings standing on their front porch, clutching a small bag. She unlocked the deadbolt and opened the front door.
“Good morning!” Sydney stood on the porch like an overly-excited Girl Scout.
“Please, come in.” Monica stepped aside and motioned inside the house.
Stepping through the front door, Sydney said, “This is just the cutest house. It really is. I remember when they built it.”
“Oh?” Monica didn't remember the realtor mentioning the previous owners at all, really.
“Like I told you,” Sydney said with a wink, “I've been around here my whole life. There isn't much that goes on I don't know about.”
“You have any idea where the previous owners went?” Monica asked.
“Not sure,” Sydney said, admiring the furniture and the staircase. “They were pretty reclusive. One day they were just gone. A lot of people think the husband found a job in Atlanta, but it doesn't explain why they would just leave their home so suddenly. But, as I said at the grocery store, I have been known to be a little bit nosy. I can't help it, it's in my genes.” She laughed. “My point being, I didn't know them very well, so I can't really speak to what happened to them.”
“I see.” Monica led Sydney into the kitchen where a full pot of coffee was just finishing brewing. “How do you take your coffee?” she asked.
“Just black is fine, gotta watch my figure.” Sydney winked again, and Monica nearly rolled her eyes.
This was a mistake .
Monica poured them each a mug full of coffee and took her seat across from Sydney on the island. “There's something I've been meaning to ask you,” she said. “You said your family always wins the elections around here, right?”
“That's right.” Sydney took a small sip. “And I already know what you're going to ask.”
“Is that so?”
“You're going to ask who I'm running against, am I right?”
Monica blushed. “Well, yes actually.”
“It was a joke, mostly. To see if you knew who I was. The thing is, I'm already the mayor. I'm running for reelection. And while I do take time to meet all of my citizens, I want you to know that I really am glad you invited me out here. I want you to consider me a friend, Monica.”
If only you knew about me .
—
After they had finished their coffee Monica took Sydney on a tour of the property, starting with the backyard.
“I love what you guys have done with the place,” Sydney squealed. “You should call it the Dresden Farm,” she chuckled.
“Jacob is a good man,” Monica said. “He knows how much I love taking care of animals, so he built this for me.”
“Maybe I'll find one of those one day,” Sydney said. “I just stay so busy, I never seem to find the time to go on dates or anything. How did you two meet, if you don't mind my asking?”
“We met in college—Georgia Tech. That was back before. . .” she trailed off.
Back before you realized you were too crazy for the medical field.
Hell, too crazy to be a cashier .
A stamp licker.
“Back before what?”
“Uh—”
Oh God, here you go being awkward again .
“Back before I decided I didn't want to be a nurse," Monica lied. “Back when things were easier, to tell the truth.”
Sydney smiled. “Trust me when I say I understand that.”
Monica lead Sydney into the goat pen, and Sydney asked if she could feed them.
Monica shook her head. “Better not, Asmodeus and Billie Jean can be a little testy when people approach Chipper. I wouldn't want you to get bitten or anything.”
Sydney nodded and kept her distance, and Monica couldn't help but notice Asmodeus staring a hole through Sydney like he would like nothing more than to tear her in half.
“My goodness,” Sydney said. “That coffee must have run right through me. I'm so sorry, but do you mind if I use the restroom?”
“Not at all,” Monica said. “It's just on the other side of the kitchen, take a right and you can't miss it.”
“Thank you, sorry again.” Sydney disappeared inside the house and immediately Monica could see the goats beginning to calm down.
“I didn't like her at first either,” Monica whispered. “But she's not so bad if you give her a chance.”
Asmodeus gave off a noncommittal bleat and lowered his head to return to his hay.
Monica moved on to the chickens, spreading feed on the ground and talking to them like she always did. Jacob liked to poke fun at her for talking to the chickens, but she knew they liked it, even though she may as well be reading off the recipe to Colonel Sanders’ famous chicken for all they knew.
Monica finished up outside, and, wiping her hands on her pants—a childish thing she would seemingly never get over—she went back inside to wash her hands and clean up. She came in through the back door and walked over to the sink, pausing before turning on the water. There were whispers coming from down the hall.
What the hell?
She walked through the far kitchen door, turning to check the bathroom, but the bathroom door was wide open, the lights off. Still she could hear whispers coming from the other side of the hall. “Sydney?” she called.
The whispers suddenly stopped. Monica walked down the hall to her and Jacob's bedroom. There, kneeling in the middle of the room was Sydney, staring at the floor. She jumped at the sight of Monica, clearly embarrassed.
“Is the bathroom not through here?” she asked.
Monica paused. "No… it's just through the kitchen and to the right, like I said.”
What the hell is she looking at on the floor?
Sydney frowned and stood. “I'm so sorry, I'm the worst with directions. My mother always told me I couldn't find my way out of a wet paper bag. I'm pretty sure that's not the right expression, but you get what I mean.”
“That's okay, it's just down here,” Monica said. She pointed to the bathroom just down the hall, honestly flabbergasted at how anybody could miss it.
I guess we're just two peas in a pod.
As Sydney headed for the bathroom, Monica stepped into her own bedroom, checking to see if anything was out of place. There was a foul stench in the air, and Monica suddenly had the urge to throw up. She ran down the hall and, remembering the bathroom was taken, into the kitchen. She grabbed both sides of the trash can and heaved into it once, twice, and a third time. She could hear the toilet flush and the sound of running water. Her head felt like it would explode. She felt the urge rise up again and once more she vomited into the can.
Standing in the doorway, Sydney said, “How far along are you?”
Monica wiped her mouth and stood up straight. “I’m not pregnant,” she said abruptly.
“Oh? I could have sworn you said—”
Monica's mind raced. Was she pregnant? She had been throwing up off and on since starting the new medicine, but surely she couldn't be pregnant . Could she?
“I… I don't feel so well,” Monica took a seat in the nearest chair.
“I'm sorry,” Sydney said, “I didn't mean to scare you. My mistake.” She walked over and placed her hand on Monica's shoulder and Monica blacked out.
—
Monica lay back on an exam table, wincing as a pretty young nurse squirted cold gel on her abdomen.
“Sorry,” the nurse said. “I know it's cold.”
Monica's eyes darted around the room. Jacob sat next to her, holding her hand. A few moments of terrible silence passed until finally a small flutter erupted from the machine.
A heartbeat.
“There's your sweet baby,” the nurse said with a smile.
Monica stared up at the screen in wonder. She never thought she would find herself in this predicament again. She was on the pill, and even then, her and Jacob had barely had time to do anything lately—let alone have sex.
After taking off her gloves, the nurse told them she would be right back with the doctor. As she shut the door, Monica used the paper towels she had given her to clean off her stomach.
Jacob looked at her. “Wow,” is all he seemed to be able to say.
Monica didn't know which emotions to feel. She thought Jacob seemed happy, but she didn't know if she was, this wasn't in their plan.
Did anything ever go to plan?
“I hope you're happy,” he said abruptly, a sneer creeping across his face.
“This is my fault?” Monica asked.
Jacob stood up and began pacing the room, his face in his palm. “Do you think we are made of money? Do you think I will like working 12 hour shifts every day? Of course you don't think about those things,” he said, reaching onto the counter and grabbing a sharp instrument. He lunged across the room and held the weapon against Monica’s throat. “It’s not like you're even mentally stable enough to raise a child. All you do is sit around and rot, you worthless cunt.”
There was a knock at the door, and the doctor opened it and stepped in, introducing himself as Doctor Deckert. Monica looked over and saw Jacob sitting next to her, holding her hand and smiling a tired smile. A face that said ‘We can do this. I have no idea how, but we can.’
Across the room, Monica could see that sharp instrument Jacob had been holding–only he had never picked it up at all.
Flipping through Monica's chart, the doctor said, “I'm sorry to say this, but the medication you're on and pregnancy don't mix well. It's a new drug, and we don't quite know the effects on the baby just yet. I'm going to recommend switching you to Haldol. It's not quite as effective, but it's proven to be safe on your baby.”
Jacob looked at Monica. “We have to do what's right for the baby, right?”
Monica didn't know what to say. She never knew why anybody asked her opinion about anything. “I guess,” she said.
“I'm going to be quite frank here, Mr. and Mrs. Dresden,” Doctor Deckert said. “It's really your only option. Now, given your. . . situation, I do recommend weekly visits both to our office, and to your psychiatrist. Just to make sure everything goes smoothly for you.”
—
“What a fucking quack,” Jacob scoffed in the car on the way home. “How am I supposed to get you to two different doctors appointments every week?”
Monica gazed out the window, barely hearing what her husband was saying. “Maybe Sydney can take me,” she offered.
“Maybe.” Jacob's hands tightened around the steering wheel. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I don't know what has gotten into me lately. I just feel so tired all the time.”
“You work really hard,” Monica said. “It's no surprise, really.”
Jacob smiled. Yawning, he said, “We'll make this work. I promise.”
After picking up Monica's new prescription at the pharmacy, they picked up some dinner and brought it home. Zach stood outside, throwing a baseball against the side of the house.
Jacob stepped out of the car and shouted, “Zach, what have I told you about that?”
“Sorry!” Zach's cheeks flushed and he ran over to help his parents unload the car.
Monica didn't do much the rest of the day; she just stared into the backyard lost in thought.
He's going to come back now.
You knew you couldn't run forever .