Chapter 19 – Monica
1 Week Later
“I found you!” I call out, peering behind the curtain and then tickling Becky.
“No you didn’t, I’m not here!” she protests. “I even made it so that you wouldn’t think I was here!”
“I know. Good job!”
A couple days ago, some of her toys and dolls appeared, lined up in front of the curtains. This was obviously a planned ruse, because today she was hiding in the very corner of the curtains, and I’d had to move all the obstacles to check.
“I almost didn’t find you before the timer went off,” I told her, seriously impressed with her strategy. “But I did! I see you! I win this round!”
I pick her up and she resists, lightly pounding her small hands against my chest and saying, “You can’t see me! I’m invisible.”
“Ouch!” I say, putting her down and rubbing my breasts.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Monica!” she says, pouting. “Did I hurt you?”
“No honey, it’s okay.”
My breasts feel swollen and tender, as if someone much larger than Becky had beat them up. And I know it isn’t her fault— they’re just naturally feeling this way. To make matters work, when I set her down, I feel nauseous, as if I’m about to throw up.
I can’t possibly be pregnant, I think. There’s just no way.
I try to set aside the gnawing thought, by smiling at Becky and getting back to the matter at hand.
“I think we have time for one more round before your mom comes home,” I tell her. “Which should be any minute now. And as long as Mason doesn’t wake up from his nap.”
I turn my head towards the baby monitor, which shows my nephew sleeping soundly upstairs in his crib.
“All right,” she says, “But I’m going to find you. And then I’ll still be ahead! You found me this time, but not next time!”
I laugh, then turn on the counter above the kitchen stove, as she closes her eyes and begins counting.
My niece takes after me. She’s cutthroat and competitive. Even what started out as a simple game of hide and seek has turned into an endless tally of who’s winning and by how much. At the end of each week, the loser had to do the other’s laundry.
Becky’s too young to do it on her own, anyway, but Susan assigned it to her as a chore to start teaching her responsibility. Usually Susan or I help her wash, dry, sort, fold and put away the clothes. But when she wins hide & seek, I have to do the honors.
And when I win, she has to do mine in addition to hers— which kind of puts an unfair burden on Susan, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She’s glad that Becky has someone to watch her and to be competitive against.
I head to the dining room, where I myself had scoped out a good hiding place earlier today. While Becky was taking her nap, I’d cleared out the entire bottom portion of the china hutch, and now I slink in and close the cupboard doors behind me. I’d put some fabric over the glass windows, and I can vaguely see out to the living room, where Becky’s still counting.
“Ready or not, here I come!” she shouts.
I watch her look for me behind the couch and in the hallway closet, as if I’m some kind of amateur.
Then, the doorbell rings.
Damn it, I think. Susan’s already back from running her errands. She probably wants help carrying in the groceries. She’s going to come in and ruin everything, once she figures out that instead of her nice wedding china that were a gift to her and my brother Mark when they got married, I’m in her china cupboard!
I’m not about to give up my hiding place and lose the round, especially when I’m already in trouble anyway. I’ll just have to explain to Susan that it was for the good of the game, and her daughter’s character. Becky used to pout when she didn’t win, but now she just thinks of a new strategy for the next game.
Suddenly, I think, Why did Susan ring the doorbell? She knows better. I’m surprised Mason didn’t wake up.
I can barely see Becky answer the front door, but I hear her say, “Hello! I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”
Then I hear a male voice say, “I’m not a stranger. I’m a friend of your Aunt Monica’s.”
Oh my god.
Ramsey.
I pull up the fabric, squinting to see as far as the front door in the living. Sure enough, he’s standing there, holding flowers.
“Oh. Then you can help me find her,” says Becky, and opens the door for him. “And help me win the game.”
It’s all I can do to not let out a squeal of excitement.
But I can’t afford to lose this round. I’m behind by two.