Through Rose-Tinted Lens

 I shift into park and sigh, squinting against the glare of the sun through the windshield. Sweat trickles down my back and makes my hair stick to my neck. Stupid air conditioner. Did it have to give out now? I shove the door open with one foot, reaching across to the passenger’s side to grab the limp McDonald’s bag I’d been so eager to have. It smells gross, but at least I won’t have to cook tonight. 

 Hopefully, Jake will understand. McDonald’s may not be the healthiest choice, but there’s just been too much I need to get done. Besides, fast food is dirt cheap. He really can’t argue with the savings. 

I step out of the car and look across the lawn. My neighbor, Desiree, lounges on her back in her sun chair. 

“You’re gonna burn, hun,” I say, laughing. “At least roll over onto your side!” She lets out a laugh, but doesn’t move. 

I shake my head and head toward the house. Long stalks of grass brush against my ankles, making them tickle. The lawn is peppered with dandelions and discarded toys half buried amongst the weeds. Ugh, this place is filthy, I moan to myself, kicking out at a rubber ball and watching as it rolls and bounces against the bottom stair of our grime-stained porch. 

Yet another thing I need to bug Jake about. If we aren’t careful, we’re going to get mice. Just because he is out of a job doesn’t give him the excuse to sit around the house all day. I love the guy, but this is getting ridiculous. 

Though, I think as I push open the front door, Considering my housekeeping skills lately, I really shouldn’t complain too much. 

The door scrapes against dirty carpet, sending puffs of dust into the air. I should get that vacuum fixed. The house is a mess - as usual - though I’ve been trying to clean up little by little. Toys litter the floor of the living room. They surround the TV stand and pile onto the bookshelf. Unwashed dishes have stacked up in the kitchen sink and I can’t help the clench of guilt in my gut at the sight of them. I probably should have washed up and made dinner instead of going out. Again. 

I sniff the air and cough, then cover my nose with an arm. I must have left the meat out of the fridge, because it smells like someone died. Sometimes, I am so scatterbrained, I’m surprised I ever get anything done. Or maybe it isn’t me and a skunk decided to crawl in here after playing in a fecal pool.

I sigh and rest my head in my palm for a second. No more excuses. I have to deep clean the kitchen. Today. And the living room. 

The smell gets worse as I walk further into the room. I rub my nose against my shirt, trying to burn the stench out. How does Jake stand it?   

Jake sits on the couch facing the TV. Same position as I left him, his head slightly tilted to the side, and eyes glazed over from staring at the screen for too long.

“Hey sweetie,” I say. Despite myself, I feel a warm glow expand in my chest. The man irritates the crap out of me somedays, but seeing him there makes me feel like a teenager again. What would I do without him? I don’t even want to imagine that. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” he says. His eyes don’t move away from the TV screen, which, ironically, is off. I go over and flip it on, but nothing happens. Is the TV broken too? I need to call someone to get that fixed. 

“Is Sophie still sleeping?” I ask. 

“Yes,” he says, the word empathic. I throw him a weird look but he still isn’t looking at me. His gaze still fixed on the TV, but his mouth deepens into a frown. I shake my head, he’s probably just worrying about work again.  

I navigate the maze of toys so I can curl up next to him on the couch, snuggling against his side. He hasn’t shaved in a few days, so his face is nice and scruffy, which looks great even if it’s a pain to kiss. I wrap his arm around me and breathe in his scent, before leaning away -- retching. 

“Dude, you reek.” I laugh, and push against him, but then change my mind and snuggle close again. “When was the last time you showered?” His eyes look sad, but I brush it off. “Just because you’re unemployed doesn’t mean you get to forget basic hygiene.” 

He looks down and then back up, never moving his head, just his eyes. 

“Hey.” I cup his face in my hands. “It’s going to be fine. You’ll get a new job. I just need you to get up and moving, all right? You’ll get sick again if you just sit here.” 

“Kelly, you have to listen to me.” He sounds so heartbroken that I can’t help but kiss him. 

“I love you,” I tell him. “And you’ll find a job. But not if you don’t get off your butt and take a shower.” He looks away as I giggle and stand up, “I’m going to go check on Sophie. She’s been sleeping too long.”  

“Kelly,” Jake says again, his voice cracking, but I wave him off, already heading toward the baby’s room. 

I trail my fingers along the walls of the hallway as I walk, leaving clean streaks amongst the grime. I should dust. And then maybe we can paint them. I saw a hardware store somewhere in town, I could go there tomorrow. Though, with everyone getting sick lately, it’s probably closed. Everywhere seems to be these days. 

I open the door to Sophie’s room and peek in. The baby is quiet, but she has slept enough. I flip on the light and then groan in frustration when it doesn’t turn on. Great, now we need new light bulbs. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” I say, walking toward her crib. For a moment, the baby lays still, her tiny chest unmoving. My heart catches sharply in my throat, pounding painfully against my jugular, but I just look closer and sure enough, she’s fine. “Silly baby,” I whisper. I’m always getting so freaked out by nothing. I reach down and pull Sophie from the crib, cradling her to my chest, “Wake up, sweetheart. It’s time for dinner. Are you hungry?” Humming softly, I leave the room. 

Jake is, of course, right where I left him. He hasn’t even touched the bag of McDonald’s I’d left on the couch. Not that I really blame him. Fast food has really gone downhill the past few weeks. The food’s always cold and I can’t even get some of the specials anymore. But regardless, he still needs to eat. 

I bite my lip and walk over to him, placing one hand on his shoulder. 

“Jake,” I say softly. “Honey, you need to eat something.” 

Silence. 

He still hasn’t moved from his position on the couch. I clench my fist and grind my teeth. Why is he being so stubborn? Just eat the stupid food!

I put Sophie down on the floor with some toys. She doesn’t reach for them. A small pain forms on the side of my forehead. Why does everything have to be so difficult with these two? I grab a toy and shove it into her hand, curling her fingers around it. “These are brand new toys,” I tell her. “They’re fun.” 

She doesn’t respond. Which is good, that’s fine.  

She usually cries whenever I put her down, but she’s been so much better about that lately. It’s not like I want her to cry. 

Except, maybe I do. The silence in the house is deafening. 

I jump up and spin around to face Jake. “You have to eat something,” I tell him. “Right now.” I grab a mushed fry from the bag and shove it into his face. His head falls backwards on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. Something nags in the back of my mind. A frantic pulse that makes the edges of my vision turn black. 

Stop it. Get it together.

“Kelly, you can’t ignore this,” Jake whispers. His mouth doesn’t move. 

Shut up! I want to scream, but don’t. I need to be patient. Everything is going to be alright, I just need to calm down.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, forcing my heartbeat to slow. I’m being silly. Dramatic, like a teenage girl. Jake is stressed. He’s worried about his job and the baby and how everyone is getting sick so he has every reason to not want to move off the couch right now. 

I look up and Jake stares at me from deep sunken eyes. His lips pull back from his black teeth, skin fallen deep beneath his cheekbones. Rotten flesh pools on his shoulders and beneath his chin. His nose has entirely vanished.

“No!” I slam the palms of my hands into my eyes, forcing them closed. My stomach quivers and I take a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. I’m on edge. Everyone at Jake’s work has been getting sick and it’s just stressing me out. That’s why they’d shut the office down, sent everyone home. But Jake is fine. He’s gotten better. He is fine. 

“Kelly,” Jake says. 

I pull my hands away from my eyes. 

“It’s okay.” He isn’t looking at me, his neck unable to hold the weight of his head. It lolls against the back of the couch, he has no lips, his jaw unmoving. “I promise you’ll be okay.” 

I heave, bent over, bile rising to the top of my throat only for the muscles to clench, forcing it back down. I reach for my daughter and scoop her into my arms, cradling her tiny body against my own. 

What am I thinking, keeping Sophie up so late? She needs to go to bed. A strict sleeping schedule is the only thing that will help her sleep through the night. Babies need lots of sleep. 

I run back toward the hallway and slip and smash into the wall as I turn a corner. I shouldn’t be running with a baby. What is the rush? No big deal. I will just rock her for a while.  

“It’s okay. We’re okay. It’s fine. We’re fine.” 

I stumble into her room, falling into the rocking chair and kissing my baby’s head. She is so perfect. So, so perfect. I remember the day she was born. Everyone had been so worried, they were afraid she’d get sick. But she is strong. Strong, and fine, and perfect, and I won’t let anything happen to her. 

“Shh, baby, shhh. I love you. Did you know that? Did you know that I love you more than anything else in the entire world?” 

The light above me blinks and flickers on and off. I glare at the light. Why does nothing in this house work? Why is everything so temperamental? I just want things to be fixed!

The bulb stops flickering and light floods the room. I smile in satisfaction and glance down. Dried blood coats my baby’s lips and chin. Her belly is twice the size it should be, bulging outward and pressing against my chest. Something wiggly squeezes between my fingers as I hold her. Her eyes stare into mine, open and glass-like, half of one already missing. 

Reality splinters.

I try to throw the corpse away but my hands clench around my baby’s body, refusing to let go.  

Screaming fills the air. This isn’t happening. I can hear the noise, but I can’t feel the sound in my throat. It rises in volume and pitch until I’m not sure if I’m crying or dying. I drop to my knees, curling around the rotting infant. 

This can’t be real. 

I rock back and forth on the ground, my head tapping against the crib every time I lean forward. 

It’s not real. I won’t let this be real.

Scenes flash through my mind like an old-fashioned slideshow. Going into the McDonald’s, grabbing a moldy bag that had been left on the counter.

So what if it was a little greasier than normal? It’s McDonald's.

Driving on roads littered with abandoned cars. 

No. Traffic is always bad at that time of day.

The doctor looking at me with sad eyes, coughing into his elbow as he examines Jake,  before shaking his head. 

That isn’t how it happened! 

Sophie, dead in her crib.

NO! It isn’t REAL!

Jake, smiling at me when I get home. Sophie gurgling happily every time I peek over the crib. 

The three of us, a family. We go on picnics and have barbecue’s in the backyard. We go on camping trips and Jake carries Sophie on his back while we hike up the mountains. We visit my mother in Florida and call my dad in Europe every week. 

I remember this, that’s what happened, I know what’s real!

I look down at my bloated baby and grab my hair with one hand, yanking it until my eyes water. Not real! I won’t let it be real. I grab the bars of the crib and smash my head into them. The pain splinters through my mind, cracking across the memory of Jake’s sunken eyes, his black teeth. I bash my head against the floor, my vision splitting, half filled with maggots squirming between my fingers while my baby smiles and coos at me from the other. 

Again, I crash my head to the wood, to the floor, against the wall. Blood stains the carpet, dripping down my face and staining Sophie’s already ruined pajamas. 

It’s not real! 

***

The sun filters lazily in through Sophie’s window. Is it really morning already? My head aches and I must have bit my tongue, because there’s a copper taste in my mouth. I cough and wipe it away. Did I hit my head? How weird. 

I smile down at the sleeping baby next to me. Did I sleep here all night? What am I thinking, sleeping with a baby on the floor? What if she rolls away?

“Hey, you,” I say, gathering her up in my arms. She isn’t moving, but that’s okay. I cuddle her against my chest, humming softly. “Last night was rough, huh?” I sway a little as I walk out of the room, my legs feel a bit like rubber. There is something rust colored on the carpet, but I don’t focus on it.  

My vision spins a little as I walk. I must be hungry. I never eat enough food these day. I should go to the store, but everything is always closed, since everyone’s been getting sick lately. I should write a letter. Sick or not, people still need to eat. 

Jake is sitting in the living room. His head at a tilt, staring at the ceiling.

“Jake,” I sigh, shaking my head but maybe smiling a little too. “You  need to get off that couch. Being stressed about work is no excuse to be a lazy bones.” 

“Kelly,” he whispers. I ignore the tears dripping down his face, and they disappear.

“It’s fine,” I tell him. “Everything’s fine. Everything is going to be just fine.”