Two days had passed, and Monica and Jacob had still not told Zach about the baby. Monica told herself it was because she wanted to be sure the baby was going to be okay, but deep down she knew they had to tell him either way. She just wasn't ready to talk about it yet.
She sat at her typewriter, pecking away at the keys—trying to drown herself in her own world that she had created.
Trying to forget the real one.
It wasn't that she didn't want a new baby, it was that she didn't deserve one—and that the baby deserved better than her.
The sudden change in medication had done a number on her body, making it nearly impossible to get any sleep, as if being pregnant wasn’t hard enough on its own. Her nights were spent in abject terror, staring into each dark corner of the bedroom praying she wouldn't see The Tall Man. She felt her stomach tighten as the nausea began to take hold of her again. She quickly got to her feet and dashed to the bathroom.
It was never this bad with Zach.
After finishing, she flushed the toilet, and jumped when she heard a banging sound at the front door downstairs.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Who would be banging on the door like this in the middle of the day? Jacob had returned to work and Zach was at school. Monica was terrified.
Where does he keep his gun?
She peered out the bathroom door and down the stairs. Again she heard it.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Monica was nearly paralyzed in fear. Slowly, she crept down the stairs, praying she could just get to the knife block in the kitchen. She heard the front door handle jiggle. And then a sound as if a large body was slamming against it. She let out a small moan.
I'll call the cops. I'll get a knife and I'll call the cops and everything will be fine.
She was in the kitchen now, grabbing the largest knife she could find and backing into a corner.
If I had any sense I would just hide.
Or go out the back door.
The banging at the front door had ceased and Monica took her chance. She bolted for the back door, but just as she placed her hand on the door knob she heard the—
BAM! BAM! BAM!
—on the back door.
“Leave me the fuck alone!” Monica shouted. She took off running up the stairs, tears streaming down her face as she tried to think of somewhere to hide.
I'm going to die.
Monica went into her study, shutting the door quietly behind her. She looked around the room in a panic, finally deciding to hide in the closet. She opened the door and slipped inside, sliding her body behind some boxes in the far left corner.
She held the knife out in front of her, listening intently for the intruder. She could hear the steps creaking on the staircase.
He's inside the house.
Out of the corner of her eye, Monica could see a suit hanging on the other side of the closet. It swayed gently from her movement.
He's getting closer now, I can hear him.
She tried to keep her breath under control. She tried not to panic, but it was impossible.
And then she heard something else: something coming from inside the closet, a creaking noise from the other side, just above the suit.
Monica fumbled in the dark for the light switch. She could hear her pursuer enter the room.
She found the light switch and hastily turned it on. On the far side of the closet from her, The Tall Man hung from a noose, his neck purple and his eyes bloodshot. He lifted a single finger to his mouth slowly, and said, “Shhh.”
Monica exited the closet screeching like a banshee, holding the knife out in front of her. And there standing in front of her was Sydney Rawlings, her eyes wide.
“It’s just me!” she yelled, holding her hands in front of her. “I didn’t mean to scare you! I found the hide-a-key and I heard shouting so—”
Monica dropped the knife.
“How do I know you’re real?” she asked.
“Um, I guess you’re just going to have to trust me,” Sydney replied.
Monica was silent for a few more moments. “It's not you that I can't trust,” she said. “It's my own perceptions I can't trust. My own reality.”
Sydney only nodded, not saying anything.
“I can't even write my fucking book because I can't stop hearing things that aren't there. I can't imagine a positive future for my baby. I can't even take the medicine that I need. I'm always here alone, and you keep stopping by randomly and I've never had any friends, so you'll have to forgive me if I can't just trust you. If you're even standing there.”
“Monica —”
Monica heard the closet door slowly creaking open. She turned to look over her shoulder and watched a dark hand slowly wrap its long fingers around the door. From behind her she heard Sydney say, “He wants to join us, but not without the sacrifice.”
Monica raised the knife. She turned around and saw that Sydney's face had transformed into an awful dead rotting thing with gray skin and putrid pus seeping from open wounds. The thing opened its maw and in two separate simultaneous voices it said, “He demands it.”
Monica cracked.
—
“I think she can go home today,” the nurse said reassuringly. “Don't quote me on it, but I heard through the grapevine her recovery has been spectacular, I expect them to let you know any minute now.”
“Thank you so much,” Jacob said with a smile.
“Yes, thank you,” said Sydney.
The nurse winked. “Thank Monica,” he said. “She's one of the best patients I've ever had. She made this possible with her cooperation and miraculous recovery.”
Monica lay in the bed, pretending to sleep. The baby in her belly kicked as if it understood the news. She had been under watch in the psychiatric ward for months, after cutting her arms and nearly bleeding to death in her study. Sydney and Jacob had been by her side ever since. The former more than the latter—as much as Jacob hated it, he still had to work to support them.
“Did you hear that?” Jacob whispered to Monica. “You get to go home today. They say you're all better.” Jacob knew that ‘all better’ just meant they didn't see any immediate signs of danger in her, but Monica was sure he still knew what she was.
Worthless.
Somehow he loved her anyway.
Monica placed her hands on her belly. She hoped it was true, that she was truly better. That she could give this child the life it deserved. She hadn’t had any more episodes, nothing. She knew there was no such thing as The Tall Man, that he had been a figment of her imagination. It was as if she’d bled out all of the bad energy, bled it out all over the area rug.
She said, “That's great.” She was definitely excited to see Zach more often—as it was she barely got to see him.
The hospital discharged her at noon, and Jacob drove her home.
In the car, Monica tried her best to lighten the mood—to be normal, happy. “It’s so pretty out today,” she said.
“Sure is.” Jacob smiled.
She had told him—and everyone else, multiple times—that she had never intended to harm herself, that she had accidentally cut herself up while defending herself from The Tall Man, but she wasn’t fully sure Jacob believed her. How could he? How do you explain something like that to a person with a normal brain?
Monica felt the baby kick again and it snapped her back to reality. She looked down and watched the little foot push her skin outward and shuddered. Her life had been a shambled, confusing mess since moving to southwest Georgia. Something in her had snapped, had reverted back to a previous version of herself—tormented inside her own mind. It wasn’t a comfortable place to be, and there was no escape.
She ran her fingers through her hair, noticing the place where her hair was considerably shorter. She dragged a finger across a long scar and winced. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Jacob’s worried expression.
Please remember this time, his face seemed to say. I grow tired of repeating myself.
“I had. . . brain surgery.” She sat back in her seat and searched Jacob’s face.
His expression said it all.
“Twice,” she added.
“You had—”
Cancer.
Don’t worry, Mrs. Dresden, the doctor had said to her as soon as she’d been conscious enough to understand. You’re good as new now. We found the tumors, and cut those rotten little things out. You’re free to live your life.
You’re all better now.
—
Jacob pulled the SUV into the yard and Monica smiled when she saw Zach standing by the front door of the house, Princess Jasmine walking excitedly between his legs. Jacob pulled in next to a small car with an ALL IN FOR RAWLINGS bumper sticker.
“Sydney beat us here,” Jacob said.
Monica forced a smile. Sydney was always there for her, and Monica didn’t know why. What was so special about her?
Jacob got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side, opening Monica’s door and reaching to help her to her feet. Slowly, Monica stood, feeling faint. Brain surgery aside, she was far into her pregnancy, her sizable belly making things even harder for her.
“Let me help,” Sydney called from behind Jacob.
Jacob pointed, “If you could get her walker out of the back.”
“No,” Monica insisted. “I don’t need it.” She reached out her hands for Jacob and Sydney to pull her up.
“Hey, mom,” Zach said, coming in for a hug. “How do you feel?”
“Like crap.” She smiled. “Can’t lie.”
Glancing at her belly, Zach said, “Picked a name yet?”
Jacob laughed. “We don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl yet.”
“Yeah, because you think it’s a good idea to wait,” Zach said. “You could know if you wanted.”
Once inside the house, Sydney poured Monica and Jacob each a cup of coffee. “I know things have been. . . hard these past few months,” she said, pouring into her own mug, “but you’re home now. This will be over soon.” Sydney seemed to think about what she’d said. “What I mean to say is—”
Lifting the mug to her lips, Monica paused. The ticking clock on the far side of the kitchen was driving her mad, it was one of the things she’d noticed since the surgeries—her hearing seemed to amplify at times, certain sounds skewing and warping, and at other times her hearing seemed to fade out nearly altogether. She saw Jacob’s lips moving, and suddenly everyone was looking at her.
“What?”
“I asked if you were ready to stop being pregnant,” Jacob said.
Monica laughed. “I’m just glad I don’t have to be big during the dead of summer again.” She glanced into the backyard. The goats seemed happy, the chickens healthy. She was surrounded by her loved ones and getting ready to bring another person into the world, and most importantly, she was finally healthy—she no longer heard and saw things that weren’t there.
Things were really starting to look up for Monica.