Being pregnant fucking sucks.
It’s all Shauna can think about as she rolls to her side and scoots out of bed, careful to move slowly so that she doesn’t wake Jeff before his alarm. She figures she should have already known this from the first time she was pregnant – cold and hungry and mourning – but she thinks she can say with certainty that this shit is way more fucking irritating this time around. She’d never felt the presence of her son growing inside of her as anything other than comforting, a reminder that she wasn’t alone in the Wilderness with a group of people she thought she would have been rid of once she left for college. Once Jackie died, her unborn son became her anchor to reality, her reason to keep trying and going and living. But then he died, too and Lottie fucking Matthews decided to make him Jesus in her fucked up little Wilderness bible and effectively killed any baby excitement that could ever exist for Shauna, present, past or future.
She slams the coffee maker shut, shaking her head in an effort to clear her mind. She can’t afford to get pissed off about pregnancy and Lottie at the same time. Not after six years and definitely not at seven AM. That might actually drive her insane.
She waddles her way over to the fridge, left hand reaching to support her back. Her fingers dig into the sore muscles while she stares in at her food options. Not only is her belly massive, extending so far out she can’t see her legs when she looks down, but her tits have swelled to an uncomfortable size, perpetually sore and sensitive to the touch. Jeff loves it apparently and he’s been not-so-subtly testing the waters to see if she’d be okay with him calling her Mommy. She is most certainly not okay with it and she has told him this countless times but he doesn’t seem to be getting it because he keeps fucking trying it. She’d have flayed him by now if her back wasn’t hurting so goddamn much.
Cut the shit, says the voice in the back of her mind. You can’t kill him because you need him, the voice that sounds like Jackie’s sneers. Shauna takes a deep breath and forces herself to focus on the task at hand. Most of the things before her look unappetizing, pre-packed and pasteurized and preserved. She begins gathering her materials nonetheless: five eggs, provolone cheese, bell peppers, onion. She piles everything into her arms haphazardly and balances the things that don’t fit onto her belly. May as well make it good for something, she reasons. Once she’s done making breakfast, she’ll go out and tend to the chickens, check for more eggs and throw down some feed. For now, she dumps the condiments off next to the everything bagels, she turns back to the fridge to retrieve the main course.
Before the crash, Shauna had a love/hate relationship with the butcher shop. She’d go with her dad every Saturday to get their cuts for the week, wood paneled walls and flickering fluorescent lights setting her nerves on end. That part she hated. But the butcher was nice, a middle-aged man with a bald patch in the middle of his head and the steadiest hand there ever was as he cut with practiced precision. She had liked to watch his knife cut through the meat like butter and she liked how he spoke to her like she was an adult even when she wasn’t.
Now that she is an adult, Shauna goes to the butcher shop every Saturday to get their cuts for the week, damp smelling carpet greeting her like an old friend. She’s learned that the butcher’s name is Todd. And that he’s gay and that he cuts he’s strong enough to cut through bone with ease and that he’s apparently the person that taught her how to whistle. She clutches the plastic-wrapped slab of bacon like it’s gold and slowly sets it on the island.
It had been weird at first, to be back in civilization and around people she’d known her entire life. It’s curious to know yourself and the world one way for 17 years and then, suddenly, in a different, more visceral way over 18 months. She thinks about it constantly, still feels weird sometimes when she runs into someone that only knew her in the Before Times, but she thinks she’s coping well.
Shauna jumps at the feeling of hands wrapping around her from behind. She clutches the handle of her chef’s knife tightly, ready to strike, then loosens her grip once her attacker kisses her neck and she remembers where she is.
“Good morning, Mommy,” Jeff whispers into her ear, “how are you and baby feeling today?”
Shauna rolls her eyes and shoves him away, twisting her mouth up into an idea of a smile. “Baby and I just cringed so hard, I think I’m going into early labor,” she says dryly.
“Oh shit,” Jeff faux exclaims, “I can’t possibly go to work today, then.”
“Ha,” Shauna laughs sarcastically, “nice try. Go get dressed while I finish breakfast,” she directs, pointing her knife in the direction of the stairs. Today is Jeff’s first day as a salesman at the local furniture store and after four failed attempts at landing a job, he’d have to be dumb as rocks to actually try and avoid going in. The money from the crash settlement has dried up faster than Shauna expected, what with the wedding and buying the house and now preparing for the new baby. They need this right now.
Jeff pouts and lowers his head, puppy eyes looking up at Shauna pitifully. She feels her face frown in disdain before she can stop it so she turns back to the cutting board, attention turning back to the slab of bacon.
“If I finish everything before you’re done getting ready, I’ll have no choice but to eat everything,” she warns. Jeff sighs and squats down to give the side of her belly a kiss before he answers.
“Fine, I’m going,” he says morosely as he leaves the kitchen, “and I’ll be quick. You two ladies save some for me.”
Shauna sighs, closing her eyes and rolling her shoulders. She’s also told him to stop assuming that the baby is a girl. Jeff swears that he ‘just knows’ that it’ll be a girl, but Shauna’s not so sure. They’ve chosen to keep the sex of the baby a secret until it’s born so they have no idea if it’s a girl or not. Shauna hopes not.
Once all of the veggies are chopped into cubes and the bacon is sliced into thick strips, she cracks the eggs into a mixing bowl and begins whisking. Omelettes are on the menu this morning and she hums to herself as she pours the veggies into the egg mixture and sets off to turn on the stove. The wooden cooking utensils she made my hand hang on little hooks above the stove and she reaches for the spatula, pregnant belly touching one of the burners. She’d learned the hard way that she should grab the utensils before turning the stove on a few months ago when her belly grew seemingly overnight.
Still humming, she squats to grab two pans from the cabinet, stainless steel and shining. The omelettes will be veggie and cheese filled, fried until golden brown on the outside. The bacon will be fried separately and served on its own platter. And she will smile and wave from the driveway as Jeff heads off, free hand resting in her belly, the perfect picture of a trophy wife. Only when he is gone will she be free to be herself.
🂭
Shauna is curled up on the couch, late morning sun spilling into the living room, pen and journal in hand. She’s finishing a rather strongly worded sentence about her neighborhood housing authority and their frankly asinine rules about owning livestock in a residential community when there’s a knock at the door. She frowns, fingers gripping the pen tighter and tighter until they turn white. No one should be knocking right now. Jeff has a key, her parents are out of town and Taissa hasn’t answered any of her AOL messages in three weeks. Those are the only people that she talks to and they’re definitely the only people that know where she lives.
There’s more knocking, this time more frantic. Shauna reaches into the couch, hand going back behind the cushions until her fingers meet the cool leather of the knife sheath that Melissa made her. She shouldn’t have kept this, definitely should find a better hiding place for it before Jeff accidentally stabs himself in the ass or something, but right now she is grateful for her forethinking. She creeps towards the threshold of the living room, knife at the ready, and peeks around the corner.
Lottie peers back at her through the window on the door, eyes wide and searching.
Shauna rushes forward and yanks the door open angrily. “What the fuck are you doing here?” she hisses.
“Oh,” Lottie says on an exhale, eyes zoning in on Shauna’s belly, “hi. It’s nice to see you.”
Shauna suddenly feels self-conscious. And extremely annoyed. “I wish I could say the same,” she says, voice pitched low, “don’t make me ask my question again.”
Lottie wrings her hands together and Shauna’s eyes are drawn to the motion. She takes the taller woman’s moment of hesitation to drag her eyes over the rest of her. She looks good, hair chopped to her shoulders and curling at the ends. Her pale pink dress is loose on her thin frame, flowing and covered in small flowers. Her brown boots are worn in and weathered. She has bangs now so Shauna can’t see the scar on her forehead. But she still looks good because she’s Lottie and Lottie always looks good, even if she seems like she never gained back the weight she lost in the Wilderness. It makes something behind Shauna’s heart pang.
“I just needed to see you,” Lottie answers eventually. Her hands untangle from each other and tug at the waist of her dress, adjusting it. “I just got back in town and I needed to see you.”
Shauna’s hand shakes on the doorknob. It makes the knife still in her fist tap against the back of the door. Lottie’s eyes snap to the source of the sound but she can’t see what’s in Shauna’s hand so she looks back to her eyes, hopeful. Shauna sighs and steps to the side to let her in.
Lottie smiles, head bowing and lips turning up, as she crosses the threshold and looks around. The thing behind Shauna’s heart pangs again.
“How did you even get here?” Shauna asks as she closes the front door.
“Walked,” Lottie answers simply, observing the pictures hanging on the wall.
“Your house is like, ten miles away,” Shauna says with a frown.
Lottie shrugs one shoulder and looks back over to Shauna. Her eyes fall to Shauna’s side, where the shorter woman realizes she’s still loosely holding the knife. Lottie smiles again. Shauna feels another pang.
“There’s a shortcut through the woods,” Lottie answers, “you know I don’t mind being in nature.”
Shauna snorts and sets the knife down on the entry table before folding her arms. She watches Lottie turn back to the framed pictures that line the walls of their foyer, different pictures taken over the last six years scattered amongst old pictures of the Before Times. She stops at Shauna and Jeff’s wedding photo. Her fingers reach forward to touch the place where Jeff and Shauna’s hands overlap to cradle the cake knife.
“Huh,” she says curiously.
“What?” Shauna asks.
Lottie leaves her fingers on the picture but turns her face in Shauna’s direction. “When did this happen?” she asks softly. Her fingers are long and tanned, knobby knuckles marking the meeting points of each fragile bone.
Shauna huffs a breath through her nose and folds her arms tighter. “When did we get married? I don’t know, like two years ago?”
Lottie hums and steps back from the wall, fingers still poised as though they’re still hovering over the picture. Her eyes flick back down to Shauna’s belly.
“So she’ll be due any day now, huh?” she asks. Shauna frowns and Lottie tilts her chin down.
“We don’t know if it’s going to be a girl,” Shauna says through gritted teeth.
“Okay,” Lottie says quickly, “I apologize for assuming.” Shauna frowns deeper. She’s not used to the taller woman giving a fuck about making assumptions about what’s going on in Shauna’s womb, let alone apologizing for it. Lottie just looks back with a fire behind her eyes, waiting.
“Okay,” Shauna says slowly. Lottie nods once and then continues into the house as if she owns it. Shauna follows, sliding the hunting knife from the entry table and slipping it into the pocket of her robe.
“Where is he?” Lottie asks absently. She’s walking around the living room in a slow circle, eyes locked on Shauna’s journal as she runs a hand over the blanket draped over the back of the couch.
“Jeff is at work,” Shauna answers with a sigh, “he’ll probably come home for lunch, though.” She hopes that saying this will make this visit shorter but she highly doubts it with the way Lottie is sitting down on the couch and reaching for Shauna’s journal. Shauna is quicker than her, reaching out to scoop the notebook from the coffee table and clutch it to her chest.
Lottie takes it in stride, smiling through tight lips at Shauna’s undoubtedly furious expression. “I didn’t think you’d still do that once we left,” she says.
Shauna puts the journal in her robe along with the knife, face still frowned. She has no idea why she hasn’t kicked Lottie out yet, why she’s even entertaining this weird attempt at reconnecting. Because that has to be what this is. Last time she checked, Lottie was locked away in a hospital somewhere in Switzerland, live-in therapists doing all they could to convince her that the Wilderness was not God. Maybe this is the part of that unlearning process where she tries to have a normal interaction with one of them.
“Do what?” Shauna asks.
Lottie stands and walks closer, eyes still searching for something that Shauna can’t decipher. She takes a step back as Lottie takes a step forward, their eyes locked. She has to keep Lottie in the foyer, she decides. It’ll be easier to kick her out when she inevitably starts saying crazy shit.
“Journal. Keep carrying the knife around. Keep carrying all that rage around,” Lottie lists, still walking towards Shauna slowly. Shauna hates that Lottie is still so much taller than her as she tilts her head back to maintain eye contact.
“Well,” Shauna starts, stopping with her back facing the wall that holds her wedding photo, “I journaled a lot before we ever crashed. I like journaling,” she pauses, licks her lips, “the knife and the rage are for you, though.”
Lottie stops walking when there’s only a few inches of space separating them. and smiles widely, teeth white and shining with spit. “Are you planning on stabbing me?” she asks coyly.
Shauna’s eyes drop to Lottie’s neck, zoning in on the vein where her pulse beats behind thin skin.
“I’m still deciding,” she says breathily. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the voice that sounds like Jackie’s screams at her. Bad idea, Shipman, it taunts, nothing good happens when you get involved with Lottie Matthews. That might have been true before they crashed, when Lottie was her bitchy but soft-spoken uber rich teammate and that was all. That was definitely true in the Wilderness, when Lottie became more; prophetic and unmedicated and able to verbalize her bloodlust in a way that made Shauna jealous and hungry. Maybe that wouldn’t be true now that they’re saved and some semblance of sane.
“Well, I think you should,” Lottie whispers, leaning down and close to Shauna’s neck. “Do your worst. You know I can take it.”
Shauna lets out a shaky exhale and closes her eyes. She sees Lottie behind her lids, seven years younger and covered in blood, lips turned up into a sweet smile. She sees Lottie when she opens her eyes, too, bangs separated to show the thin line of the scar across her forehead. When Lottie’s lips quirk up at the corners, Shauna breaks and kisses her.
This is horrible. She’s eight months pregnant and married and she has never had any business kissing Lottie Matthews, not back then and certainly not right now. This is a horrible, terrible thing to do and she’s a horrible, terrible person for doing it.
Lottie pushes her into the wall with her shoulders, teeth sinking into Shauna’s lower lip. It sends a wave of heat through her, zipping down her throat and into her lower belly where it settles. She decides then that she’s okay with being a horrible, terrible person as long as she can keep feeling this heat.
She licks into Lottie’s mouth, tongue swiping across hers and tasting peaches. Lottie moans and Shauna grabs her by the hips, flipping them around so that Lottie is the one pressed into the wall.
“You cut through the Stevens’ yard?” she asks through a pant.
Lottie smirks and melts down the wall, legs spreading to bring herself closer to eye level and make room for Shauna to step closer. “It’s fucked up for them to hoard all the good fruit,” she says into Shauna’s shoulder. She walks her fingers into Shauna’s robe, nails scratching over her shoulders before she pushes the garment to the floor. It falls on the hardwood with a soft thud thanks to the knife and journal stashed in the pockets.
“I think they installed security cameras a few months ago,” Shauna says, tilting her neck back to give Lottie access to the rest of her neck, “Allie’s gonna think her parents are fucking crazy when they tell her they saw Charlotte Matthews stealing peaches from their tree.” Lottie licks across her neck, teeth biting at her jaw once her mouth gets there and Shauna hisses.
“Allie can suck my dick,” Lottie grunts. It shocks a laugh out of Shauna and Lottie smiles at the sound. She slides a little farther up the wall, hands on either side of Shauna’s belly. Shauna looks down and remembers. She had almost forgotten, had almost completely slipped back into a headspace she hadn’t allowed herself to be in since she got back to Wiskayok. But she remembers and she hates it.
“I’m sorry,” comes Lottie’s soft voice. Shauna blinks her eyes back up to look at her, a tear falling from her eyelash. Lottie’s mouth twists sadly and she holds both of Shauna’s hands as she pushes herself off the wall. “I can help you forget, come on.”
Shauna lets herself be led up the stairs of her own home, dazed and hungry for more.
🂭
Jeff does not come home for lunch. As Shauna lays on her back in bed with Lottie’s head on her shoulder, she is grateful. Lottie’s hair is soft between her fingers and Lottie’s mouth is warm where it sucks bruises into the skin of her left breast. Lottie’s back is soft under her grip and Lottie’s fingers are feather light as they dance across Shauna’s belly, tickling around her belly button.
“Calliope.”
Shauna had nearly dozed off, skin still buzzing and mind still fuzzy, but she hums in question.
“The baby,” Lottie answers, “her name will be Calliope.”
Shauna stiffens and opens her eyes. Lottie pulls back as if she’s been burned, scooting away until there’s a chasm of space between them on the bed. Shauna turns her head so that she can look Lottie in the eyes.
“It’s not a girl,” she says softly.
“Please, Shauna,” Lottie responds just as softly, “you know just as well as I do.”
Shauna just stares. She won’t feed into this. Everything she’d looked up about schizoaffective disorder has told her that she should not feed into this. Lottie frowns for the first time and pushes farther.
“This isn’t what It wants for you and you know that. How long do you really think you can live in the echo of Jackie’s life before you snap?” she asks seriously.
Shauna feels her blood boil, rage simmering up her throat. She swallows it back down and thinks about her words before she says them.
“There’s no It, Lottie,” she says sadly, “It was just us. The whole time.”
Lottie’s eyes are brighter for a moment, wilder, excitement apparent. “That’s the beauty of It. It’s in all of us and It’s there to guide us. To keep us safe. It’s been trying to get through but you all keep ignoring It. You’ve always had It in you. That’s why I can hear you. That’s why I needed to see you.”
Shauna feels sad, pangs behind her heart increasing their frequency. She sighs as she rolls onto her side. “Lot, honey, what are you talking about?”
Lottie scoots a centimeter closer, eyes still burning. “I’m going back to the Wilderness. I want to start a community there. More…civilized than when we were there, of course, but there. Things made more sense out there. I know you can feel that, too. I want you to come with me.”
This time, the rage rises up like a wave of nausea, clogging up the back of Shauna’s throat and making her eyes feel foggy. She clears her throat and tries again to be the voice of reason.
“You stopped taking your meds again?” she asks firmly. The deep frown she gets in response does not seem promising.
“I don’t need that stuff,” Lottie says, voice shaking, “I just need to be back out there. You do, too. And Calliope can use her sweet voice to keep the Wilderness calm. We could be happy again.” She reaches out a hand towards Shauna’s belly but Shauna draws back, just out of reach.
“You can’t be serious,” she hisses. Lottie blinks and Shauna sits up to speak down at her, rage simmering the rest of the way up her throat and spilling out of her mouth, “we could be happy? I’m nearly due. I haven’t seen you in six years and I’m coming to the conclusion that whatever they did in that fancy Swiss mental hospital made you worse.” Lottie flinches as though she’s been struck across the face. It’s more of a reaction than she gave when Shauna did hit her, a lifetime ago, over and over while she straddled her on the cabin floor. “I cannot give birth in the fucking woods again, Lottie. I can’t raise a baby in the fucking woods. I can’t protect myself and my baby in the fucking woods.”
“You won’t have to,” Lottie says, pleading, “I’ll protect you.”
Shauna laughs humorlessly. “You said that the first time,” she says bitterly, “look where that got us.”
Lottie looks away and curls into herself, pulling her limbs in tight. Shauna leans down, hair curtaining around her face and Lottie’s, too.
“This baby belongs to me,” she growls, “not you and definitely not the fucking Wilderness. She will not be raised that way.”
Lottie shrinks further and Shauna feels another pang. She wishes she could go back to twenty minutes ago when Lottie was three fingers deep in her cunt and she could taste blood on her tongue from her own bitten lip. Twenty minutes ago, she was eighteen again and feeling alive. Now, she’s starkly reminded that she’s twenty-five and feeling like shit for dousing out the fire in Lottie’s eyes.
They sit frozen for what feels like an eternity. Shauna’s chest is heaving as she breathes heavily, quieting every urge in her that begs for her to hurt. Lottie looks back up at her as if she deserves it, eyes silently begging. Shauna realizes then that Lottie came here to feel something, anything, other than the quiet that her antipsychotic medications offer. Like a fool, Shauna had given her exactly what she wanted — chaos and fire and fear, satiation and spectacle and temporary sanctuary. Everything that the Wilderness provides.
“You need to leave,” Shauna says with finality. You can’t come back.
“Okay,” Lottie whispers. I understand.
“Please don’t get yourself killed,” Shauna pleads. Please don’t go back out there without me.
Lottie smiles but there is no happiness to it, no fire. “I won’t make any promises,” she says slyly. Shauna doesn’t need to read between her words to know exactly what Lottie will do when she leaves here. She watches her climb out of bed and bend over to pick up her dress. She turns the fabric around in her hands, back muscles shifting, and Shauna’s eyes wander down to her ass, pert and cute. Shauna’s teeth marks leave an impression on her right cheek and she hopes it will bruise prettily.
Before she leaves the room, Lottie turns back as if she’s contemplating something. Shauna waits, both dreading what she will say and praying that she says it faster.
“If you’re sure,” she starts carefully, “about living in the echo. You need to be more careful. You can’t let It out.”
“I know,” Shauna nods.
Lottie nods back. “I’m taking the knife, then,” she says, smirking, “less temptation.”
Shauna laughs softly in spite of herself and rolls her eyes. “That’s probably for the best,” she agrees easily, “there’s a couple HOA bitches that pissed me off this morning.”
Lottie shakes her head and opens the door. She steps into the hallway and the light in the ceiling lights up her hair like a halo.
“Take care of yourself, Shauna,” she says. “Take care of yourself and your baby.”
Shauna nods with a smile and then Lottie is gone like smoke.
