“How bad?” the doctor asked. “How awful?”
“It was really strange. I would see people I knew… friends of mine, my sister, people I worked with… I couldn’t help myself. When I saw them I would see them—” She stopped, not sure she could bring herself to say anymore.
But the woman facing her across the desk seemed to be able to read her mind. “You imagined they were dead?” She opened Jillian’s file and clicked her ballpoint pen.
It was hard for Jillian to admit, but she nodded yes. “That’s exactly what happened.”
“Did you seek treatment?” She took notes as she asked the questions and that unnerved Jillian slightly.
Jillian nodded again.
“Were you hospitalized?” More notes.
Jillian nodded once again and then looked down at the floor, as if ashamed of her troubled past.
The doctor nodded toward the waiting room, indicating Spencer who was pacing back and forth in an imitation of the classic expectant father mode.
“Does your husband know?” the doctor asked. “Or was it before you met him?”
Jillian smiled. “Oh no, Spencer was in my life then. He knew all about it. But he was the one who got me through it.” She was silent a moment. “My husband saved me,” she said solemnly. “Spencer saved my life.”
“And you’re afraid your pregnancy is going to bring all that back? Is that it?”
Jillian nodded again. “I’m terrified of that happening,” she said. “It can’t happen again. I wouldn’t be able to stand it. I don’t think Spencer could get me through it again. Not even Spencer could do it and he can do just about anything.”
The doctor sighed, stood up, and walked around her desk and put her hand on Jillian’s shoulder. “Go to the support group, Jillian,” she said. “Spend time with Spencer. Make sure you go through this together. Now that you know these feelings you’ve been having are caused by the life growing inside of you, by your body adapting to carrying that life… cherish it.” She hugged Jillian. “And if you need to, call me, Jillian, any time of the day or night, okay?”
Jillian nodded. “Okay,” she said with a nod.
“And if I don’t hear from you, I’ll see you in a month for your next checkup. Eat well, rest, exercise, and…” She cocked her chin at Spencer. “Let him spoil you. Get it while you can— they’re lambs on the first one. They want to spoil you rotten now. Wait until it’s just an old-hat third pregnancy.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” said Jillian, feeling a little better. The doctor said to exercise so Jillian was determined to exercise. Too much rich food and alcohol consumed since arriving in New York City had made her feel fat and out of shape. She was determined to be as healthy as possible for her twins.
It is a little-known fact that many of New York’s older buildings—doorman-attended buildings built before the Second World War were deemed the most desirable in a hot real estate market—were equipped with swimming pools. Up and down Park Avenue and Fifth Avenue were apartment houses that were the last word in luxury when they were put up in the twenties, and that meant that they had to have mosaic-encrusted gyms and pools in their basements. Few were in use now—the basement pool and fitness rooms were dank and dark compared to the modern health club.
It happened, however, that the swimming pool in the basement of Spencer and Jillian’s building was still there and well maintained, even though it was little used by the tenants. Many newly pregnant women are self-conscious about their bodies and Jillian was no exception. She decided to use the private pool conveniently located in the basement of her own home.
There was no one down there that morning and she was happy about that. There was an observation deck overlooking the pool and that was deserted, too. She stood on the edge of the pool for a moment, took a breath, and then dove into the water. It was just cool enough to be exhilarating, tinged with enough warmth to make the water comfortable. Jillian didn’t overdo it, but she swam easily, arm over arm, cutting through the water, swimming the first couple of laps with ease. As she swam she felt good, better than she had in some days—she was calm in the water, listening to her own easy breathing and the regular splash of her feet.
Then Jillian touched the far edge of the pool. She pulled her head out of the water and saw that the pool, the concrete, and the mosaics, the observation deck—everything that had been there a few minutes before—had vanished. She wasn’t in the pool anymore but alone and naked lying on her bed.
It was just as before. The bed was hers, but the room was not there and she was surrounded by a spangling of stars and the blackness of space. It was the dome of stars that she had experienced that terrible night those weeks ago.
Her eyes were open and she tried to raise her head, but she could not. It was as if she was paralyzed and drugged… Then she heard it. That horrible sound. The insects. The screaming…
It seemed to take every ounce of strength she could muster, but she did manage to turn her head. She saw Spencer standing by the side of the bed. He smiled down at her. She wanted to speak to him but could not. Her lips were dry, her throat closed tight.
Slowly and with some grace, Spencer sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to stroke her hair gently.
That was when Jillian awoke with a start. There was no more space, no more stars, just the familiarity of her bedroom. She turned in the bed and looked at Spencer. He was awake and looking back at her, a look of concern on his face.
“Spencer,” she said, her heart still pounding, her breath shallow. “I don’t know what’s going on… I dreamed I was swimming in the basement pool and then—”
Spencer rolled over and held her close. “Just a nightmare. Shh, shh, shh…” he whispered. “You were very upset and were talking in your sleep.”
“What was I saying?” Jillian asked.
Spencer shrugged. “I couldn’t tell. You weren’t really using words. Just sounds, really.”
“I’m scared, Spencer,” she said softly. She sounded small and defenseless.
“It would be strange if a first-time mother weren’t scared. Jillian,” he said reassuringly. He leaned over and kissed her. “Come with me,” he said, staring to pull her from the bed.
“Where are we going?”
“You are going to take a bath,” he announced.
“A bath? Spencer, it’s the middle of the night.”
“So what,” he replied. “It be soothing. It will help calm you down.” So that’s what they did. Jillian got into a nice warm bath, luxuriating in the giant tub, the scents and soaps that Spencer had poured into the water soothing, almost intoxicating. He knelt by the side of the tub, fully clothed, a washcloth in his hand, bathing her. It was at once both a fatherly and submissive posture.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
Jillian stretched in the water and touched her belly. “Yes,” she said. “It’s going to be okay, isn’t it?”
Spencer dipped the washcloth in the warm water, wrung it out, and brushed it across her taut shoulders. “Yes,” he said. “Everything will be fine.”
“And we’ll be together?” Jillian asked, like a child begging to be reassured that there were no monsters under her bed after awaking screaming from the web of a nightmare.
“Forever,” said Spencer.
She put both hands on her belly. “And they’ll both be healthy, right?”
Spencer nodded again. “They’ll be healthy. And they’ll be beautiful, just like their mother.”
Jillian smiled shyly at the compliment. “And what will they be when they grow up?” she asked.
“What will they be?” said Spencer. “Of course it’s up to them, but… pilots perhaps?”
“Just like their father,” she said.
Spencer leaned over and kissed her then looked into her eyes. You are more beautiful than ever… Now lean back so I can get to your hair.”