There was a finality to her voice. Jason stood staring at the floor, his hands shaking and his lips trembling.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“What? What doesn’t matter?”
Jason’s trembling voice found strength and resolve. “We can make another goddamn baby Sam! But I’m losing my mind here. I can’t get that back. Miscarriage of the fucking brain, Sam!”
The anger and fury drained from Samantha’s face and was replaced by loathing and disgust.
“Fuck you, Jason,” she said, and then turned towards the bedroom. “You son of a bitch.”
Jason stared after her until she disappeared into the room, slamming the door behind her.
He paused a moment, letting the events settle, and then walked to the closed door. Behind it, he could hear Samantha’s loud, fitful sobs. His mouth hardened into a thin line as her crying fueled his resentment and the burning fire in his belly.
Jason busted into the room to see Samantha sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from the door. She jumped a little, startled by the loud noise, but didn’t turn around. Jason stood and stared at her back, breathing heavily with his fists clenched. Finally, he went to the closet, grabbed a spare pillow and a thin blanket, and rushed back out the door, closing it hard behind himself. He stormed over to the couch, threw down the blanket and pillow, and turned off the apartment lights. He crawled under the blanket and stared straight up at the dark ceiling.
His anger was still bubbling, his heart still pumping heavy blood that made his temples throb. He looked down and over at the coffee table where the white box sat.
“Damnit,” he said and sat up.
Jason grabbed the box and flipped open the top. He pulled out the contents and used the flashlight on his cellphone to read the instructions. It looked easy enough from the diagram, he thought.
He really just wanted to curl up and get some rest, but he needed the doctor to help. And the only way the doctor was going to help was with the data from this stupid machine.
Jason hung the small electronic box around his neck, where it rested on his solar plexus. He found the electrode heads and attached them to his face where the diagram instructed. Next, he plugged the wires into the box and flicked the switch.
A red and green LED bulb flashed slowly on the face of the box.
“Guess that’s it.”
Jason took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He lay down and pulled the blanket up to his chest, staring at the ceiling again. The blood that pounded on his eardrums began to relent as he relaxed into his pillow. He closed his eyes, and as the deafening sound abated, it was replaced by the distant sounds of sobbing, and just behind that: the hum.
* * *
Samantha’s hard, uncontrollable sobs began to diminish into soft, whimpering breaths. She sat on the edge of the bed as tears steadily rolled down her face. She sniffed and wiped at her hot, wet face with the sleeve of her robe. With a shuddering sigh she stood up and went to the bathroom. She grabbed a roll of toilet paper, making sure not to look at herself in the mirror, and headed back to her bed. Her breath came and went in a steadying rhythm, and her eyes began to dry. She wiped her face with a wad of toilet paper and blew her nose while staring out the window. The night sky was dark with thick clouds, and the ocean’s surface rough from a north wind.
A few fat raindrops smacked against the glass at an unsettling, sporadic tempo.
Samantha lifted up her legs, deposited them beneath the blanket, and lay down. She picked up her phone from the nightstand and punched in her password. She stared at her conversation with her mother as the smacking of raindrops against the windows quickened. She wanted to ask for help. To tell them everything. But her fingers paused, unable to type.
What could they do? she wondered.
Nothing right now; they would just worry. Samantha shut the screen off, replaced the phone on the tabletop, and turned out the light. She would call tomorrow when she’s had some rest.
Samantha lay back and listened to the hypnotic beating of the rain against the glass. Her tight muscles relaxed as the sound soothed her. Suddenly very aware of her exhaustion, Samantha’s heavy eyes closed.
Then—something woke her up. Her eyes jerked open. How long had she been asleep? Had she even slept? The rain was still beating against the window. Her muscles tightened as she lay completely still, looking over at the door. A shape was standing in the doorway, strange red and green lights blinking madly on its chest. It just stood there, its shoulders heaving up and down, up and down. Time passed at a crawl as she watched the shadow watching her. Her heart quickened, and her hands and feet went numb, pricked by invisible needles. Samantha fought to keep her breath steady and calm, pretending to be asleep.
Finally, the figure twitched and began to move towards her. She shut her eyes. The couch is not good for sleeping, she thought. Jason is just coming to bed. The thought relaxed her some as she listened to Jason walk quietly across the floor to stand beside the bed. Samantha felt the weight of his body lie down beside her as she continued to focus on her breath.
Slow and steady. She didn’t want him to know she was awake. She didn’t want to talk. Not right now, anyway. She needed sleep to regain her strength and shake the clouds from her mind so she could talk some sense into Jason.
Samantha’s thoughts were interrupted by Jason’s touch. His hand brushed her arm as he shifted his weight. Samantha stiffened once more. Jason slowly flipped his leg over her hips, straddling her and then allowing his weight to
