It’s later now. Dark out. I sl ept. But I’m awake again.
The window is still open.
Mommy thinks I’m sle eping.
I can tell.
She’s sitting on the edge of my bed and she’s talking to me like she does when she thinks I’m sle eping.
She says, I never thought I was the kind of person to do this, Bela. Seriously. In my whole life, I never imagined I
would cheat. There... I said it. Because it is cheating and that’s all it is. I can twist it all up and say it’s natural, I
can say it’s only a matter of time before two people drift apart, no matter how much they love each other. But this
is flat-out cheating. Your dad doesn’t know. He should know. It’s as clear as July. But... he doesn’t. And that’s
exactly why I’m doing what I’m doing and I know that’s why. Because your dad is simply... too easy. Too warm.
God, I sound like one of those idiot college girls who only fall for bad guys, women who wouldn’t give a nice guy
the time of day. But I married one, dammit. I’m married to one. I’m sorry, Bela. Not because I’m doing what I’m
doing, but because I’m not sure anything could stop me from doing it now. Christ, you think he’s the only one I’ve
been with? God. I’ve been cheating since before we got
married. That’s the truth. Since before you were born. It’s who I am. It’s what I am. I lust.
I don’t know how long she’s been talking. I don’t know what time it is.
I look to the closet.
It’s all dark there. An open, dark space in the dark.
Still... still... it stings. Because no matter how right you think you are, no matter how much sense a thing makes as
you’re doing it... you’re still doing something you never imagined you would do. I’m sure you have dreams, Bela.
Things you want to accomplish, the kind of person you want to be. And while it might be hard to acc ept, your
parents were once your age and they had ideas and dreams too. And I think maybe your dad is living his. Yes. I
think maybe he is.
I think Mommy is crying.
I have no doubt he always imagined himself being a kind father, a good man, raising a child right, being loyal to
his wife. I know he was already thinking that way in college because he told me he was, in so many words. But
me? Christ. In college I was looking to hook up with every boy I met. And I did. For the most part. And some of
this your dad knows and some of it he doesn’t and it’s never made me feel like I do right now. Not until all this
stuff started with you.
Yes, she’s crying.
There we were, the three of us living our lives, and you suddenly start seeing things and talking about something
else living in the house and falling at the park and screaming at the zoo and so now I have to be focused on my
family at the exact moment I only want to focus on myself. Is that selfish, Bela? It might be. Forgive me. But for
what? Let’s say we never had you, Bela. Would that have been selfish? Of course not. If there’s no child,
there’s no child to do right or wrong by. But we did decide to have you. And so... is there no respite from that? Is
there no way to live your own life without it being called selfish by someone less ind ependent than you? I can only
imagine what the other parents in town would say if they knew what I’ve been doing. Maybe some of them do. But
I would tell them what I’m telling you now: parenthood should not be a prison sentence. And if you want to be
with one of your husband’s friends? You should do it.
I close my eyes all the way.
I think Mommy was drinking while I was sle eping.
And I hear Daddo. And it scares me.
I hear him up the hall. He’s making the house creak.
Does Mommy know he’s coming?
Should I tell her to ke ep quiet?
And the worst of it, Bela, the worst of it is that I believe, in my heart, no, I know that if your dad were to find out?
He’d be okay with it. Yes. He’d tell me he understands. Because he understands everything. He’d tell me we’re
just people and that people have nuance and that relationships come in waves, in seasons, and if I felt so lost in the
cold winter of this one, he’d knit a blanket to ke ep me warm. And while that may sound to someone else like the
best partner a person could have... maybe I don’t want the best partner a person could have. Maybe I want some
grit, some spit, some mud, some blood. Is that so hard to forgive? Who is good and who is bad? What is right and
what is wrong? You ever think, Bela, how people say that light shows what things really look like, but they also
say that light and dark are equal and need each other and you can’t have one without the other and so... is it so
crazy to say that maybe what we see in the dark is the truth too?
The creaking in the hall.
Daddo is getting closer.
I wanna feel, Bela. I wanna eat good food and drink good drink and sle ep good sle ep... I wanna say something. I
wanna warn Daddo not to come in right now.
... but the world tells you you can’t. Not once you’ve had a kid. Nope.
Then it’s all prison gruel and curfew and institution-issued rations. Hell, even all our clothes are supposed to
match, us parents. Have you ever seen us all gathered at a barbecue? A party? We’re fashionless, passionless
prisoners, Bela. Prisoners to our children.
I don’t like this at all.
Daddo’s just outside my bedroom door now.
You know what I’ve been thinking about lately, Bela? I’ve been thinking a lot about reincarnation.
What?
I wonder what I’d come back as. A better person? A better mom?
Would starting over change things? It might. It might make everybody happy. That’s the beauty of reincarnation.
A second chance. If someone would just let me in. You know? It’s what friends do. They let each other in.
Would you let me in? I bet you would. It would be awfully nice of you. You would reincarnate me, wouldn’t you?
Give me life?
There’s a figure in the doorway.
Bela?
But it’s not Daddo.
It’s Mommy.
Who are you talking to in there, Bela?
I slide out of bed and run for the door and I see Other Mommy is facing me on the end of the bed.
And her face is crazy.
MOMMY!
Bela?
Mommy turns on the light and she screams and I know she sees Other Mommy. Then I’m in Mommy’s arms and
she’s running up the hall and she’s r epeating Daddo isn’t home Daddo isn’t home. The hall creaks behind us and I
look over Mommy’s shoulder and see Other Mommy peeking out my bedroom door.
And her face is big and crazy.
Outside! Mommy yells. We need to get outside!
She’s carrying me down the stairs and my feet bang against the banister and in my head I ke ep seeing Other
Mommy peeking like that out my door, and then Mommy is opening the front door, all so fast, yelling we have to
hurry, holding me so tight, yelling for help, and then she’s dragging me by my wrist down the front porch st eps,
outside and it’s night but the porch light and the moon make it feel safer than my bedroom and when we’re out on
the front lawn we both turn to look at the house and Mommy is shaking and looking up to my bedroom window
and she moves me behind her legs and she’s breathing so hard, and she says, Bela?
Yes... She’s breathing so hard.
Other Mommy?
And her voice sounds like it’s made of fear. And I say, Yes. Other Mommy.
Mommy is shaking, staring up at the house.
Okay, she says.
She reaches behind her to hold me there.
But she still faces the house.
And she still shakes. And it feels like she will forever.
Okay.