Chapter 2

After that day, the house went quiet again.

Every morning at six, Mom knocked right on schedule.

First a bowl of herbal remedy, then two boiled eggs.

Temperature check at eight.

At ten, half an hour of walking laps around the living room.

Fish soup at noon.

Folic acid and a lineup of vitamins in the afternoon.

At nine sharp every night, my phone was taken away.

They called it building up my body.

But all I felt was that I'd fallen into some endless loop.

The same medicine.

The same meals.

The same voices.

"Eat a little more, for the baby."

"Sleep early, for the baby."

"Stop overthinking, it'll hurt your chances."

I was exhausted, but the moment I closed my eyes, their voices filled my head.

Before long, my hair started falling out.

First a few loose strands on the pillow.

Then whole clumps tangled in the comb.

When I washed my hair, the strands that came out clogged the drain until the water rose over the tops of my feet.

I crouched down and picked them up one by one, for a long time.

Mom rapped on the bathroom door.

"Why aren't you out yet? What if you catch a chill and it affects the pregnancy?"

I stared at the clump of hair in my hand and spoke slowly.

"Mom, I don't think I'm okay."

"I want to see a therapist."

Mom pushed the door open, glanced at me, and brushed it off.

"Every woman loses hair after a miscarriage. What's there to make a fuss about?"

"Hurry up and wipe the floor dry so you don't slip and fall, and then blame us again for not taking care of you."

I didn't move.

It was a long while before I finally walked out of the bathroom.

Mom was in the living room, chatting with Marvin's mother.

She was cracking sunflower seeds, and she let out a scornful little snort.

"Kayla actually wants to see a therapist. Can you believe it? We wait on her hand and foot, and somehow we've still done wrong by her."

"This girl. Nothing but trouble."

Marvin's mother nodded along.

"You're right. If word of this got out, what would people think of us?"

The two of them went on for a while before they finally noticed me standing there soaked.

Mom poked me on the forehead and turned to Marvin's mother with a fawning look.

"You hear that? All day at home you eat and sleep, sleep and eat. What psychological problem could you possibly have?"

"Don't go to a place like that. Even if you're not sick, they'll talk you into being sick."

Something sat heavy in my chest, an ache I couldn't put into words.

Without meaning to, I turned to look at Marvin.

After the first miscarriage, Marvin's mother had said the same kind of thing to me.

Back then, Marvin had stepped in front of me.

"The baby's gone. She's already hurting enough. None of you push her anymore."

He bought me flower seeds and carried in a new easel.

He said if I ever felt low, I should plant flowers, paint.

"It's okay if we don't have a baby. I just want you well."

I'd held on to that line all this time.

But now, Marvin only sat quietly drinking his tea.

"Mom's right."

"A therapist ends up prescribing pills in the end. What if it hurts your chances of conceiving?"

"Just bear with it a little longer. Once the baby's born, you can see whoever you want."

Bear with it again.

Can't work, bear with it.

Can't go out, bear with it.

Hurting inside, bear with it too.

As long as the baby wasn't born yet, every feeling I had could be shelved for later.

But...

Once the baby was born, would I really be free?

Mom started pushing me to go to bed again.

This time she took my phone and locked the bedroom door.

When I woke up, the balcony was empty.

The roses and jasmine I'd planted had all vanished.

Where the pots had stood, dark round rings were left on the floor.

Beside them, a bit of soil no one had swept up.

The easel in the study was gone too.

The one family portrait that was left had been crumpled.

The smiles in the painting had gone warped.

"Where are my things?"

Mom was wiping the table and didn't look up.

"Threw them out."

"Flowers draw bugs, paint has a smell. Which of those is any good for conceiving?"

Marvin's mother came out of the kitchen.

"The study's going to be turned into a nursery. Might as well clear it out ahead of time."

"Before the baby's born, don't fill your head with all that nonsense."

I stood where I was, not moving.

"But those are my things."

Mom finally lifted her head to look at me.

"A few pots of flowers, a few paintings. How could any of that matter more than the baby?"

"We run ourselves ragged, and for whom? How can you be so ungrateful?"

I looked at Marvin.

"Those flowers and paintings, you gave them to me."

He was silent for a moment, then took the painting out of my hand.

I thought he was going to keep it for me.

But he turned and dropped it into the trash.

"Once the baby's born, I'll buy you new ones."

"Listen to Mom for now. Don't wear everyone out."

The door closed.

I looked at the empty balcony.

And suddenly I wanted to tell him that I was worn out too.