“Are you okay, Momma?” Clementine asks. Her hand rests on my lower back, giving quick little pats. I’ve scared her. But before I can tell her I’m okay, I heave again. This time nothing comes up.
Pull yourself together.I take a couple of deep breaths. The nausea abates.
“I’m fine,” I manage, turning on the water to rinse out the sink, and my mouth. “Sometimes the baby doesn’t like early mornings. It’s nothing to worry about, honey.”
Wyatt walks into the kitchen then. From his expression I know he senses a shift in energy. Luckily he’s arrived a few moments too late to know exactly what’s transpired. He raises an eyebrow, looks between us. “Everyone good?”
Clementine glances at me, her eyes full of concern. I nod at her, then smile at Wyatt. “All good.”
“Come here, kiddo,” Wyatt says, and Clementine obliges. He hugs her, then kisses her atop the head. “We’re leaving in ten minutes.”
She says she’s ready to go.
“Have you brushed your teeth?” He pours himself a coffee.
“Not yet.” Clementine looks chastised.
“Well, guess that means you’re not ready,” Wyatt says. “Hop to it, bunny.”
Clementine smiles at the pet name, then picks up the Nancy Drew book to take back upstairs.
“You know what, Clem?” I say. “You can take that book to school. I know you’ll be careful.”
“I will, I promise.” She smiles wider, and I hold out my hand to slide the book into her school bag. She takes off up the stairs to brush her teeth, and Wyatt and I are left alone.
“You sure everything’s okay?” he asks. “Seems I walked into something there.”
He sips his coffee, staring at me over the lip of the mug.
“A small issue with the book. She wanted to take it to school for reading time, and I didn’t think it was a good idea. But I changed my mind. So yes, everything is okay.” I reach for my mug to refill it with coffee, out of habit.
“Haven’t you already had one?” Wyatt asks, glancing at the coffeemaker. The number on the display reads “6.” Our machine makes eight cups every morning. He’s had one and knows I’m a “the minute my eyes open” coffee drinker.
“No. I had an herbal tea. Your mom had a coffee, though.” The lie is easy. Wyatt will be gone in ten minutes, and Shelby is in the shower getting ready for her day.
“Herbal tea, huh? That might explain the tension.” Wyatt laughs easily. He pours coffee into my mug until its half-full. Like,preciselyhalf-full. The machine’s display switches to “5.5.”
I take the mug, thanking him. Inwardly, though, I curse his controlling behavior.
He smiles, oblivious. “You’re welcome, darlin’.”
—
For a time, nothing unusual happens and the unsettling moments further lose their sharp edges.
My blood pressure, zinc levels, and stress hormones remain stable. I have gained the appropriate amount of weight, according to MotherWise. My watch spits out gold stars, and Dr. Rice and Ana, still on twice-daily visits, are pleased.
“Well done, Mathilde,” Ana declares, after a full week of consistently excellent results. “Your body seems strong, and all systems are singing beautifully. How are you feeling?”
“Great,” I say, and it’s true. My arm has fully healed, the scar patch making it less noticeable every day. I’m also more clearheaded than I’ve been in weeks; productive too. No signs of apparitions, no hallucinations, no “bumps in the night” that steal my sleep.
I suspect I’m only a handful of sessions away from completing the cleaning.So close, which means I’ll soon be able to finish the treatment and collect my fee. Not to mention, get a reprieve from the work. I long to be free of the painting, even as I’m increasingly drawn to it.Soon, Tilly. We’re almost there.
I daydream about squeezing in a mini vacation before the babycomes. Ana said if things continue as they are, we can reduce her visits. A couple of times a week, maybe, with only daily virtual check-ins.
“What do you think about Disney World?” I ask Wyatt as we snuggle in bed. Clementine has visited the theme park in VR but not yet in person. “We could rent a car? It’s only a few hours’ drive. Shelby and Stanley can join us.”
“Let’s see how things shake out,” Wyatt replies, with a gentle smile meant to placate me. My enthusiasm doused, I bristle at his tepid response. But it’s late, and I don’t want to fight before bed. “Sure,” I say, to appease him.
