In the weeks to come nothing changed your opinion that a baby was a very bad idea. But what could you do; it was a done deal.
Days passed, and you and she pursued your lives as though nothing had changed. She never referred to her condition, and if it wasn't for a large bottle of neo-natal vitamins in one of the kitchen cabinets, you would have believed it had all been a strange dream.
One night, you found it impossible to sleep. It was odd; you had never before suffered insomnia. You lay in the darkness, which enveloped the room, and she slept silently next to you. You puzzled at your lack of drowsiness. Maybe you'd drunk too much coffee? Maybe you ought to switch to decaf-- just in case…. Soon you discovered how frustrating insomnia can be; you didn't know what to think while waiting to fall asleep. All you could focus on was your sleeplessness, which, after a moment became very boring. Never having been a daydreamer, you were unable to entertain your mind with visions of your hopes and fantasies. It was a sort of torture, being limited to contemplate the stark present: the dark, the woman, the baby….
Insomnia took root that night, and every night afterward you regarded bedtime with growing despair. There was always the darkness. Her presence next to you in the dark seemed unreasonable; she seemed like a stranger now-- you realized how little you understood her. You'd watch the bedroom slowly brighten as the sun rose outside. Your eyes became continuously bleary, so that you had trouble focusing on whatever you were drawing at work, and dark swollen circles formed under your eyes. Each time you watched her wake, you detested the way she, fully rested, slipped out of bed to dress and meet the new day as though nothing at all was wrong. Over breakfast you sat with her but did not speak, and the silence between you and she was maddening. You wanted to scream something at her. You felt in some way she was mocking you.
Then something strange happened.
While enduring another night of sleeplessness, you saw in the darkness of your room a brightness. It began as a dim smudge of light that seemed to hover in the air. You believed at first it was just eye stain or some figment of your weary mind. But the light intensified and began to take shape. It looked like a small rainbow that was devoid of color. It was floating just over your girlfriend, whose form you could barely make out in the dark.
You were fascinated by the phenomenon, which you suspected might be nothing more than an hallucination.
But then came the voice, saying, Because she knows….
It was a tiny voice, neither male nor female, the voice of a child, although tinged with a world-weariness-- as though that child had survived some unspeakable abuse.
Your skin crept at the sound of the words. You were certain that you were awake and that your girlfriend wasn't playing some kind of joke on you. Your breath came in short strangled gasps, as your mind attempted to process the experience. The words were obviously directed at you, but you couldn't detect its source.
“What?” you heard yourself whisper, your voice dry and raspy.
For a moment there was silence, broken only by the heavy thudding of your heart.
Then, again, Because she knows….
“Knows what?” you murmured in the dark.
But then the voice fell silent and the light faded away, leaving you in a state of wonder and dread.
Sitting on a crowded el train the next morning, you were still replaying the small tortured voice in his mind. People tramped in and off the train at every stop. They jostled each other as they tried to win a seat. Those left standing in the aisle glowered down at those who were seated. Although all this occurred every morning, it seemed today you were suddenly aware of the other riders. Was it always so crowded? Your breathing became shallow and puffy. You couldn't wait to get off the train. You peered through the gray smudged window at the skyscrapers of downtown, getting closer but not quickly enough.
The train went through a series of curves, at points where disastrous el derailments had occurred, and suddenly the train seemed like a huge snake coiling itself round some prey.
When you finally got off at your stop, the open air of the street offered you little relief.
At night you were assailed by otherworldly lights and the small angry voice that spoke only in riddles. She has always known…. Plans have been set in motion…. Your future is wide open, but your present is not…. It all made no sense to you. Was it your imagination? Was it simply from stress? You didn't feel the least bit stressed at the idea of a baby; you felt oddly disconnected from that reality, as disconnected as you felt from the voice that hectored you.
