Chapter 15 - The Woman of the House

A jingle wakes me up. I prop myself up on my forearms and realize it’s my alarm. I don’t remember the last time I woke up to my alarm and not before it. I reach across the bed for Brian, my body still feeling light as it lingers in the residual high of last night, but the white sheets are empty next to me. The faint smell of coffee wafts through the air. The window is cracked open, sending a cool breeze through my hair. After I rub the sleep from my eyes, the lake comes into view. From my place in bed, I can’t see the strip of land that separates the house from the water, making it seem like the house could fall in at any moment.

When I finally make my way downstairs, Brian is sitting at the counter drinking a cup of coffee. Even on a Saturday morning, he’s already dressed, wearing a Patagonia vest and a pair of dark jeans.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Brian says.

“Morning,” I say as I smooth the top of my hair out with my hands. For the first time since we moved here, I slept. A delicious, deep sleep. I wasn’t thinking about how Angela disappeared or the strange happenings at the house or the mysterious deaths of those who lived here before. Instead, my mind was blissfully blank. I had laid my head down on my pillow and stayed there the whole night.

“How did you sleep?” I ask, only so he’ll ask me.

“Good, you?” He gets up from the stool and kisses me on the cheek.

“Good. Really good.” I don’t want to get too excited about my newfound rest in case I jinx it. I go to the counter and pour myself a cup of coffee. Today, I’m drinking it for the taste and not out of sheer necessity.

“Have you noticed the showerhead in the guest bathroom drips?” Brian asks after taking a bite of toast. I shake my head. I’ve been keeping the bathroom doors closed to avoid any chance of seeing my reflection in the mirror. “I was thinking I’d take a look at it this afternoon after I go to the gym.”

“You found a gym out here?” I don’t think I’ve seen any sort of workout facility in all of Lake Moss.

“I forgot to tell you,” Brian says. “The local high school opens their gym up on weekends. And it’s free for residents.”

“Well, that sounds like a Saturday well spent,” I say, putting the thought of my reflection out of my head and focusing on the mug nestled between my hands. I take a deep breath, letting the smell of coffee fill my lungs.

“What are you up to today?” Brian tilts his head while he strokes the top of my hand with his index finger. His gaze reminds me of the day he asked me out on our first date. It’s all-encompassing, and a little intimidating, like I’m the only person in the world. He hasn’t looked at me like this since we moved. He’s been busy rushing off to work, or I’ve been wrapped up in whatever is going on in this house, but now it feels like it did when we lived in Chicago. Normal. Loving.

My eyes drift over to the windows behind Brian as I think about how I plan to fill my day. Maybe I’ll make a big dinner from one of the fancy recipe books Deborah got me as a wedding present. She put a special sticky note next to Brian’s favorite meal. Beef bourguignon. After I met Brian, I taught myself how to cook. From the small stove of my studio apartment, I learned how to make the basics: pasta, steamed vegetables, baked chicken. I ate burnt chicken breasts for two weeks straight because I couldn’t get the recipe right. I stayed up all night making chicken breast after chicken breast until finally, at four in the morning, it was the perfect combination of moist and tender. My skills have improved considerably since then, but I haven’t had the courage to attempt a dish as elaborate as beef bourguignon yet. Maybe today is the day.

Now that Mother is squarely in my past, I can be the wife Brian deserves, the wife I know I can be. After years of walking slowly past brick walk-ups in Chicago just to catch a glimpse of the families living inside, now I can be the woman with an apron wrapped around her waist chopping up vegetables while her husband tinkers with the showerhead upstairs. Brian didn’t know it, but there were three people in our marriage: me, Brian, and Mother. I didn’t realize how much of a shadow she was casting over my life until her ashes arrived yesterday, but now that she’s gone for good, I can let go of all the hatred, resentment, and self-loathing Mother so carefully instilled in me over the years and at last let myself be chosen by Brian, be loved by Brian, be worthy of Brian. I settle onto my stool, feeling the warmth of the coffee mug against my chest as I relish in the fact that I’m finally living the life I always dreamed of.

That’s when I see her. As clear as my own reflection, there’s a woman standing in the shadows behind me. Brian starts talking again, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. My legs go numb. I suck in a breath of air and watch through the windows as my cup of coffee slips through my fingers and shatters on the wood floor.

“Rose!” Brian yells as he maneuvers around the broken ceramic.

Dripping in hot coffee, I grab the edge of the counter for support.

“I…” My voice trails off as I look at the mess I’ve made. By the time I look back to where I saw the woman, she’s gone.

“Sit down,” he says, leading me back to my stool. It’s only then that I realize I’m standing, breathless. “What happened?” He strokes my arm like I’m a wounded animal.

“I—I don’t know. I thought I saw…”

“What?” He’s so close to me I can feel his breath on my face.

I swallow. “I thought I saw someone.”

“Who?”

“There was a woman.” I glance over my shoulder, toward the darkened hallway that hid her face. “She was standing behind me. I saw her in the reflection of the window. Did you see her?” The words fall out of my mouth before I have time to think. My voice sounds as desperate as I feel.

Brian stops rubbing my arm and looks over my shoulder. Then he looks back at me. There’s something in his eyes, something I don’t recognize. His mouth is turned downward, and his brows are bunched together in the middle. Suddenly, I recognize the look behind his eyes.

Pity.

“I didn’t sleep as well as I thought,” I say as I rub my eyes.

“You’re stressed,” Brian says.

“I’m okay, really.” I shake my head as I try to erase the image of the woman from my brain.

“No, you’re not.” His voice is serious. He scoots his stool closer to mine so that our legs are intertwined. “I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure to unpack everything and get the house organized. It’s partially my fault. I’ve been busy with work and I left you alone in this new place that we’ve barely gotten to explore together. The stress is getting to you, and I think it’s making you a little…”

“What?”

“To be honest, paranoid.”

“No, I’m not…paranoid.” I try to make my voice sound light and nonchalant. “I’m totally fine. Honestly, I’ve never been happier.” My eyes are wide as I try to ease his suspicions.

“Rose.” Brian puts his hands on top of mine. “Hearing footsteps in the middle of the night? Stressing about which one of us left the back door open? Thinking you had blood on your face? The truth is, we live in an old house with creaky floorboards and rusty pipes. It’s all in your head.”

“And what about the back door?”

He sighs. “It probably wasn’t latched all the way.”

I take a deep breath and bury my face in my hands as I let all of Brian’s logical explanations wash over me. “You’re right. I am acting paranoid. I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” He rubs my arm. “I know this move was a lot, but I think I know what will help,” Brian says as a smile inches its way across his face.

“What?” I look up at him. His dark eyes glimmer in the sunlight.

“You need something to do every day, something that will give you a purpose. It’s time for a baby, Rose.”

“A baby,” I say as his words sink in. Maybe Brian is right. Maybe I let the stress of living in a new place get to me and I need something to distract myself. A baby would certainly be a distraction. And if this is what Brian really wants, who am I to withhold it from him?

“I know we talked about it before, but what do you say?”

I take a deep breath. His hands feel heavy on mine. “Okay,” I say at last. “Let’s have a baby.”

“Really?”

I nod.

“This is great news,” he says. “I knew you’d want to.”

“You did?”

“Of course. I’m your husband, remember? I know you better than anyone.” Brian leans in and kisses me on the forehead. I hope he can’t feel every muscle in my body tense. As he pulls away, his phone buzzes on the counter. He picks it up before I can see who’s calling. “Sorry, I have to get this.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just this Oak Street project. It’s killing me.” He puts the phone to his ear and walks into the dining room.

I hear Brian talking in the dining room. His voice is low and hushed. I run my fingers through my hair as I think about what he proposed. Brian isn’t like me. He’s well-adjusted. He was raised by loving parents in a stable home and given all the tools he needed to live a successful life. Before I met him, I thought I’d spend my life in the same rent-controlled studio apartment and die just like Mother always said I would: alone. Now that we’re married, I realize I don’t have to worry about that. I’m not Mother’s daughter anymore; I’m Brian’s wife. I made sure I was at the right place at the right time, laughed when he told a joke, and pretended I wasn’t the sad girl whose only human interaction was with a boss who smelled like nicotine and stale coffee. It took some work on my part, sure, but it paid off. And now all I have to do is enjoy the life I constructed for myself and be the person who’s suitable enough for someone like Brian. He had his life together long before he met me. He’s always known what he wants. Now he wants a baby. If he thinks that a baby is what I need to feel more at peace living in this place, then maybe he’s right. If he’s certain about it, maybe he can be certain enough for both of us.

“It’s all in my head,” I whisper to myself, trying not to unravel even more than I already have. “It’s all in my head.” The words are shaky and uneven. My chest is tight like I just got the wind knocked out of me. “It’s all in my head.” Hopefully the more times I say it, the more I’ll believe it.

There’s a warm hand on my shoulder. I jump, not realizing Brian is off the phone and back in the kitchen.

“I have to go to the job site,” Brian says, disappointed. His eyes scan my face, waiting to see how I’ll react to the news.

“On a Saturday?”

He looks conflicted, but only for a second. “I’m sorry, but the contractor needs me. You’re all right?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

For a moment, we’re both still. Brian watches me watching him. I smile, and it’s forced. Brian does the same. I can almost see the question on the edge of his tongue: Are you telling me the truth? I want to ask him the same thing.

Brian’s phone buzzes again, breaking the trance. Our eyes drift apart. He leans in, kisses me on the cheek, and tells me to call him if I need him. A few moments later, I hear the front door close.

Once again, I’m alone with the house.

—

The morning goes by in a blur as I roam restlessly around the house, expecting to see the woman at every turn. I wrap a blanket around my shoulders to keep myself warm. The floorboards creak beneath my feet as I ascend the stairs. Once I’m at our closed bedroom door, I hold my breath, imagining the woman lingering behind it. I don’t know how long I stand there, shaking from a combination of nerves and damp air, but at some point my hand finds the doorknob, revealing nothing but our empty bedroom.

Downstairs, my feet shuffle along the dim hallway that connects the entryway to the living room and kitchen. I clench my teeth and grind away my enamel as I convince myself that she’s standing alone in the corner of the room, just as she was earlier this morning. When I finally reach the end of the hallway, there’s no one there. I walk along the windows that line the back of the house as the wind echoes through the newly restored chimney. She’s waiting for me at the edge of the water, I know it. Trees sway in the breeze, momentarily obstructing my view of the lake. A single bead of sweat trickles down from my right armpit, sending a chill rattling up my spine, but then the wind sends a branch full of leaves in the other direction and my eyes land on the empty shore. She’s everywhere and nowhere all at once.

It’s almost noon by the time I work up the nerve to go in the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. When I scratch the back of my head, my hand comes away with a large clump of hair that’s fallen free from my scalp. I force myself to look at my reflection in the mirror. A scared little girl looks back at me. Her face is pale, and fear has settled all over her body. It’s in her trembling lip, tense shoulders, and splotchy chest. She’s afraid of everything. Even her own house.

“I choose to let go of the past and embrace the future,” I say to my reflection. My voice is quiet, just above a whisper. “I choose to let go of the past and embrace the future.” Each word comes out louder than the last. I have everything I ever wanted: a husband who adores me, who wants to take care of me and have babies with me. I have a whole house to call my own. And a dead mother I no longer have to think about. So why do I feel like something isn’t right? Tears fall into the sink below. “I choose to let go of the past and embrace the future.” I scream the affirmation so loud that I feel the veins on the side of my head pop out. I’m supposed to be happy. After everything I’ve done to get here, I deserve it. So why do I feel so miserable?

I grab the handle of the brush and imagine smashing my reflection with it. Imagine my hand flying through the air and landing squarely on my forehead, creating a spiderweb of broken glass. Instead, the top of the brush makes contact with the side of my head. A dull, throbbing sensation spreads across the right side of my skull. “Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic,” I say as I hit myself in the same spot over and over again. The grip I have on the brush loosens. My vision blurs. The throbbing sensation wraps itself around my head and travels to my face. I put the brush down and touch the pain with my fingertips. There’s a small bump growing. Good. It’s a welcome distraction from this unlivable house.

When I put the brush in the drawer, I reach past my makeup and find the little plastic package of birth control pills. I can’t have a baby. Not now. Not when living here feels like treading water in the middle of the lake without a life jacket. I pop one in my mouth and swallow without water. We can think about a baby next month.

After I put the pills back in their hiding spot, I have the urge to get out of the house. I put on my running shoes and walk outside without looking back.