With My Little Eye

By Tess Marset

Mia Labont is going insane. Or is she? After enduring the loss of her beloved father and a devastating miscarriage, she cannot surface from the depths of her depression so much so that her husband, Dan, comes home to find her suffering a breakdown with a gun in her hand.

 

In this thriller, the protagonist is launched into a per

• Language: English
• Publisher: 1 Lone Crow Media
• Release date: Dec 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9781733360968

Book preview

Prologue

The heat bore down upon the two little girls as the sun climbed higher in the sky, turning the sidewalk the color of bleached bones. Yet they played on under the oppressive warmth of the sun, beads of sweat mingling on their small upturned noses.

I spy, hmmm. I spy ... Okay, I got it. I spy, with my little eye, a ladybug on that leaf, Mia, the brown haired one, said.

Not to be outdone, Robin laid her finger alongside her freckled cheek as her hand cupped her chin. 

Okay, okay. Hmmmm. Her eyes narrowed as she searched for something that began with 'M'. Then she shouted excitedly as she pointed before them, All right, got it! I spy, with my little eye, a moth in the mud! Ha! Let's see YOU top THAT one.

The alarm rang at the station and the men jumped into action, leaving their unfinished sandwiches on the kitchen table. They scrambled for their gear and their positions on the trucks. The great door opened and the big machines lumbered out onto the roadway. The sound of the siren grew to a high-pitched cry. The firefighters fastened their helmets and scanned the horizon for that telltale sign.

Mia wiped her brow, and then puffed out her cheeks, letting her escaping breath whistle up to her bangs. It was the first week of August and summer had been played out. The neighboring girls were bored and feeling feisty as the heat wave hung on. They had been through numerous rounds of Barbies and coloring books. And it was just too hot for jump rope and skating. As a result, they sat in the cool grass and resorted to their old preschool game of ‘I spy.' But finding things that began with 'N' was going to be tough.

Holding her hand like a visor to block out the glaring sun, Mia scanned everything in sight. She had to find something before her friend could jump in and claim victory. Robin sensed her faltering and moved in for the kill.

Give up? I got one already. I spy, with my lit—

No, wait. Give me just one more minute. 

She looked at the street, the swings in the playground, the mothers walking by with strollers. Nothing began with N. She didn't want to have to concede so easily.

C'mon. Give up already. I spy, with my little— Robin gloated triumphantly.

Ispywithmylittleeye, Mia said quickly, a naked bird in a nest!

What? Where? Hey! You can't do that! Her friend's face flushed up to her freckles.

Why not? Naked and nest begin with N, Mia said defensively.

But BIRD doesn't. And besides, where do you see it? I don't see anything.

The pumper truck followed the hook and ladder as they rounded the tight corner. By now they could see the huge clouds of black smoke rising above the second story rooftop. They pulled alongside a parked car that blocked the fire hydrant. The driver had to honk the horn of the great truck to get the gathering crowd of spectators to clear a spot in the street for them. People pointed and shouted. A woman screamed.

Ummm—up there! She pointed to a clump in the branches of a tall tree.

"Where? I still don't see it.

There! You see that big branch going that away? Well, right next to that little branch beside it—see that nest? It's on the lowest branch. You can see the baby bird —

I don't see a thing! You're cheating! 

Robin jumped up and squared her fists on her hips. Her eyes joined forces with the sun's rays beating down on Mia.

I am not! There's a baby bird right there! Mia was on her feet in an instant pointing to the tree.

You're such a cheater. Cheater! Cheater!

I'm not! You are! And I don't want to play this stupid game anymore if you're going to be a sore loser.

Cheater! Cheater! Take a stick and beat her! the girl sing-songed, leaning into Mia's face.

No I'm not! I can't help it if you can't see the bird with your silly little piggy eyes!

Cheater! Cheater! Take a stick and beat her! Cheater! Cheater! Take a stick and beat her!

If you don't stop, I'm going to beat you with a stick in a minute!

Oh yeah? I'd like to see you try, Cheeeeeater.

As the firemen gathered in front of the house and prepared to go in, they could see the flames and smoke billowing from the first story windows. A man, clothed only in boxer shorts and tee shirt, bolted out the front door, gasping and coughing. His legs swaggered beneath him for a moment, and then dropped him to the lawn. Paramedics ran to his side with oxygen. When they rolled him over, he smelled strongly of gin.

The relentless sun witnessed the standoff as sweat beaded upon their top lips and across their brows. Robin stood almost a half a head taller than Mia. They locked stares and gritted teeth at each other. But within a few seconds, Mia's eyes betrayed her by darting away.

Sensing that split second of meekness, Robin gave Mia a shove and growled, "I said, I'd like to see you try it, Cheater."

Mia swallowed the hard knot in her throat as she tried her best to scowl back. But a spark of fear ignited in her despite her attempt at being brave. Her adversary was bigger and tougher. Mia's eyes became wells of tears. She swiped angrily at them, streaking dirt across her cheeks.

What's the matter, crybaby? Scared?

Her nose began to run and she couldn't help but sniff loudly. Round, fat teardrops crested the rims of her eyes and rolled two wet stripes down her cheeks.

Oooo, lookit the little crybaby cheater! Let's make her cry some more! Robin grabbed a handful of Mia's long hair and yanked it hard.

Oww! Stop it! she squealed in defeat.

The other girl's eyes lit up as she reached for another yank. Why? What are you going to do about it?

Crying and holding her hair, Mia sobbed, I hate you! I don't ever want to be your friend again! I hope you get cooties and die! 

The words spat out like venom and her chest heaved. Then all of a sudden, like a cloud moving in front of the sun, a calm fell over her and her skin crawled with goose bumps despite the heat of the day. She locked eyes with her friend once again. Any trace of fear had evaporated, replaced by a new sense of knowing. 

I bet you'll even die today! she blurted out, but stopped short, dumbfounded at what had escaped her lips.

Robin stepped back and gasped, What did you say?

You ... you are going to die today in your own house ... In your own room... Mia murmured, as if in a trance. 

Wanting it to stop, she clapped her hands over her mouth. Her stomach lurched from the poison of her words.

T-that's not funny. Take it back.

Mia, still holding her mouth tight, could only give her head a little shake.

I said, t-take it back, or I'm gonna tell ... Robin grew quiet, all of her bravado gone.

I can't, Mia whispered. 

She watched as Robin ran off, her eyes tracking her until she saw the red braids clear the corner. A few minutes later, all alone, she slowly followed.

The firefighters tried to turn back the flames that leapt out of the side windows as screams flew from within the house. One firefighter emerged with a half conscious woman draped around his neck. She coughed violently and fell to her knees clutching her throat. The engineer darted from the controls at side of the truck and joined by a paramedic, rushed to move her away from the house. Her head flopped backward, allowing her to draw in a deep breath that brought on another heavy bout of hacking. Immediately, she became alive again and started to scream and reach for the house. 

My daughter's in there!

Mia did not know why she had said it. It was the cruelest thing she had ever said in her whole life, yet she wasn't able to stop. Although she disliked Robin at that moment, she knew the words she had spoken were not hers. She did not know where they had come from or what made her say them. Making her way home, she dragged her feet over the pavement, her stomach squirming with shame. The relentless heat made the air feel thick.

When she reached home, she peered around the side yard to the neighboring house that stood catty-corner to hers in the back. Mia could see the pink curtains of Robin's room fluttering out of the second-story window. She knew Robin would be inside right now telling her mother of all the evil things that her friend had said.

Thinking back, maybe she had cheated just a little. But she imagined that naked little bird in that perilous nest, its neck outstretched and wobbling. It was Robin's own fault that she couldn't see it. However she was right, bird does not begin with N. Still, it couldn't erase all those horrible words that were said ...

She climbed the stoop and opened the screen door to the cool dark sanctuary of her home. She tiptoed through the foyer past her mom who was conducting bible study with several other ladies in the living room. Mia took a peek to make sure no one was watching, then crept past to the kitchen to sneak a cookie. She climbed the stairs and followed the hallway to her room. There, she decided to make a tea party with teacups of water, the cookie, and her dolls. She knew they wouldn't call her a cheater.

The afternoon heat eventually broke as the sun slowly dipped beyond the horizon. Downstairs, the ladies were closing their bibles and tucking away their rosaries. Every last 'God Bless' and goodbye faded with the sound of their footsteps on the walk outside. Within a few minutes, Mia could hear her mother chopping vegetables and filling pots in the kitchen sink below, getting dinner ready. Her father would be home soon.

Like the shush of water through a garden hose, the growing noise of city traffic wafted in through her open window. A distant siren sliced through this gray noise. As it grew closer and closer, the sound forced its way to the forefront, drowning out everything else.

Scrambling up the attic stairs to get a better view from the dormer window, Mia saw two fire trucks pull around to the street directly behind her house. Looking to her left, she sucked her breath in sharply when she saw smoke and flames pouring out of Robin's house. Spying over the narrow yard and between the houses, she could see people gathered in the street. She jumped to her feet and ran downstairs to her mother.

Mom! Mom! she shrieked, Robin's house is on fire!

Mia? 

Hearing her child in distress, her mother set down the dish she was washing in the sink and ran to the stairwell, her hands dripping bits of soapy foam on the waxed parquet floors.

Tugging her arm, Mia insisted, Come! Look! Robin's house! It's on fire! 

Mia reached the dormer window first and sunk to her knees to watch while her mother caught up, wiping her hands on her apron.

Oh, merciful Father!

Is there anything we can do, Mommy? the little girl cried.

No, Mia. It looks like the fire department has already been called, her mother said, her face creased with worry.

Can't we go down there?

No, it's better to stay here out of the way. The last thing the firemen need is more people crowding around. The only thing that can help right now is prayer, child.

Mother and daughter held hands and whispered prayers as they watched the chaos from their haven across the yards. Shouts and screams and the roar of the fire reached its way up to them through their open window. They spotted paramedics hovering over two people lying upon the lawn and other firefighters running to and fro.

A couple of them climbed onto the steep roof. With axes and a large hook, they punched a hole through the shingles and stood back as flames flew up through the gap. Suddenly there was a shout, sending them scrambling off their post. Just then, a large portion of the roof caved in. 

Mia turned and hid her face as her mother pulled her close. But a moment later in an impulse of grotesque curiosity, she peeked out, feeling the need to watch the tragedy playing out before them. Her last glimpse was that of Robin's pink curtains, fluttering out of the open window as flames consumed them before her mother made her look away.

About fifteen minutes later, they could hear Mia's father come in through the front door below them. They ran downstairs to tell him the news, but as he entered, they could smell the fire's smoke clinging to his clothes. Seeing the commotion on his way home from work, he had stopped to see if there was anything he could do to help.

What happened? Is everyone all right? Mia's mother asked.

From what I was told, it seems that McCane was drunk again. He was smoking and watching TV on the sofa when he fell asleep and dropped his cigarette on the cushion. When he came to, the sofa was already on fire. But he ran out without telling anyone. They said that Katherine was washing clothes in the basement when she smelled the smoke. She tried making it upstairs to fetch their daughter, but the fire was too great and she couldn't see anything. Poor woman was overcome with smoke. She barely made it out alive.

But what about Robin? Is she okay? Mia held her father's hand and looked up at him.

Her dad got down on his knee to face her, I'm sorry, honey ... they weren't able to save her, he said quietly.

Mia gasped for air, feeling as if someone had punched her hard in the stomach. Her father went to put his arms around her to comfort her, but she squirmed and fought against him.

NO! She can't be! She can't be! I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it! Mia screamed. 

She turned and fled to her room. Perplexed, both husband and wife stared at each other, not knowing what to make of her strange statement. When they sought her, she was curled up in the small corner between her bed and the wall. I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it, she kept repeating.

Her mother took her by the shoulders and made her face them. Why do you keep saying that, child? What are you talking about?

I knew it was going to happen! I caused her to die!

Now Mia, calm down. Exactly what do you mean? her father asked.

Her sobs came out in ragged gasps. She struggled hard to make herself talk while her head filled with the noise of swarming bees.

Young lady, you are to tell us what happened this instant! her mother said, gripping her and giving her little shakes.

We-we were in the playground, and she called me a cheater, then she yanked my hair. But I didn't cheat! I saw the bird! She broke into sobs again, and continued, We got into a fight and she called me a crybaby and wanted to beat me up. But I-I told her that I wish that she would d-die.

But you were angry! It's perfectly natural to lose your temper and say things you don't mean, her father tried to console her. It doesn't mean that you made the fire happen.

Her voice was a hoarse whisper, "But I saw it. I knew she was going to die."

Of course we saw the fire through the attic window child, but it doesn't mean— her mother started.

"No! I saw it! I saw it in the playground when we were fighting before the fire. She wanted to make me cry, but I wouldn't. I told her I hated her. Then all of a sudden I saw it. It was like a dream. Robin wasn't in the playground anymore. She was in a dark place—her closet. And there was smoke—it was so thick. And she couldn't see ... "

But you couldn't have possibly known that.

But I did, Mommy. She was coughing and it was so hot, but she was afraid to leave.

Stop this nonsense at once! There is no possible way you could have seen that. It is only for our Lord in Heaven to know what will happen to us.

But I did.

Her mother's face grew red. I said stop it! Not another word!

Her dad stepped in. Why don't you let the girl finish, Margaret? She's obviously upset over her friend.

No, I will not have blasphemy in this house! her mother said. She pushed Mia down by her shoulder, forcing her to kneel in place. Pray child for forgiveness for your words and actions, and to have mercy on that poor girl's soul.

Do you really think that's necessary? She feels bad enough today without—

Steve, don't you undermine me. I don't want her turning out like Lydia with all that unholy voodoo sacrilege. Now Mia, pray.

Mia did as she was told and as she had done many times before when she had been tempted to stray. She laced her small fingers together, bowed her head and started, The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want ...

As soon as the flames died down and the smoke let up, the firefighters did a sweep of the house. Upstairs in the north bedroom, they revealed a heartbreaking scene they had witnessed many times before in a number of their runs. Behind the charred closet door was the lifeless body of a little red-haired girl, huddled in the corner. Her head cradled in her arms, she apparently had died of smoke inhalation—the only victim of the fire.

One

The pile of freshly laundered clothes sat in front of her on the sofa, an insurmountable mountain waiting to be conquered. Mia wondered how two people who weren't home all day could generate so much laundry. She plucked another shirt off the summit, laid it in her lap and started folding. 

If they were house painters or auto mechanics or worked with wild animals, she could understand it. But as adults both working at desk jobs, she should only be looking at a handful of work outfits, ‘grubbies' for the weekend, underwear, a few changes of nightwear, plus various odds and ends, times two.

She imagined what a family complete with kids' laundry must look like and raised her eyebrows at the calculations. She smoothed out another pair of trousers and hung them on a hanger, envisioning mountains and mountains of clothes and even more folding. 

All the assorted sizes of underwear and pants, socks and pajamas. Not to mention the linens. And all of those little baby shirts ...

She forced herself to stop immediately. She was backsliding again. No matter what she set out to do, whether a diversion or mundane household task, she always wound up in that same place time and again. Mia sighed and choked back emerging tears. She tried to continue folding, but the clothes became big and dark and heavy all of a sudden. Dropping the jeans she held in her hands, she wandered listlessly into the kitchen.

She opened the refrigerator door and half-heartedly looked about, trying to get ideas of what to cook for dinner. Dan would be home soon and he usually arrived with a healthy appetite. She considered making a hearty meal of roast and potatoes. He always loved it when she cooked like that. 

But looking at the clock, she thought otherwise; time had run out again. Surveying what remained in the near-empty refrigerator, she spied leftover pizza from last night and leftover Chinese takeout from the night before. There was only the two of them. It should be enough.

Feeling achy, Mia made her way to her darkened bedroom and sat down on the bed. She felt weighted down and tired. Even breathing required too much energy. Everything seemed to take so much effort lately.

The breakdown pervaded every waking minute and dominated her dreams at night. Going over it in her mind, she knew she had done everything correctly—the scheduled checkups, the prenatal vitamins, a nutritious diet, plenty of rest, and an exercise plan for pregnant women. She and Dan had started preparing and decorating the nursery, choosing the color swatches and themes, and looking for furniture.

Why can't I have a baby?

After almost two years of trying to conceive, they had finally succeeded. They had planned so carefully. Money was set aside in the bank to cover the birthing costs. Her maternity leave was submitted early at work. She did her homework on various birthing techniques and positions, and had enrolled in their HMO's birthing class. CDs of Mozart for Baby and World Lullabies among others sat gathering dust beside stuffed animals on the shelves that Dan had already hung in the room.

What did I do wrong?

She recalled every detail, every misstep she took, every object that might have been a bit too heavy for her to lift. Maybe she should have quit work. Maybe she should have had a more positive attitude. There had to be something she overlooked. She should've seen the doctor immediately when she experienced her first cramp. But everything she had read told her it was perfectly normal. Even the triage nurse on the phone had told her it was nothing to worry about.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Mia tried to push away the memory of that evening that took place seventy-four days ago. But a haphazard jumble of events and their sensations paraded before her, displayed against her closed eyelids: the intensely bright light above the exam table; the feeling of the cold metal stirrups against her bare skin; masked nurses hovering about; Dan's face, concerned and caring, telling her to take it easy and breathe; the internal exam; excruciating cramps; a burning sting from a needle. 

After a round of sudden heavy contractions, all that was left was a wee bloody body on a blue surgical cloth; a boy; her husband's eyes, full of tears. It's all over now honey, he had whispered. She had only caught a glimpse of a tiny fist no bigger than a hand on the dolls she used to play with as a child, but when she tried to get a better view of her baby, the nurse had covered him with a cloth. If she held that precious little hand in her own right now, it would be no bigger than the tip of her pinky finger ...

Babe? Are you okay? Dan stood in the doorway.

Mia hadn't heard his key in the lock or the front door closing. She dove for the tissue box on her nightstand and fumbled with trying to pull a tissue out. It tore into shreds. Helplessly, she wiped her eyes and nose with the back of her hand but wouldn't face him. He wasn't supposed to catch her like this again.

Dan sat down next to her on the bed and held her. Then he took a tissue out of the box and handed it to her.

Had one of those days? he asked gently.

It didn't start out like that, but yes. I have.

Well have you gotten out today? Call anyone?

No, she answered a little defensively.

Okay, but you know you can't keep doing this to yourself. You've got to start letting it go.

That's easy for you to say.

I know, I know. Dan hugged her and rested his chin on her head for a moment. It's just that you've been through some tough times before, and you've always been able to bounce back.

"They weren't like this. This is different and you know it. We are talking about our child's life. This is not the same as those stupid ruts I fall into. This isn't the blues or a funk that I am in, we—I ... The pain in her chest grew sharp. I lost our baby. I've been going over it. It had to be something that I did."

Dan put his hand to her chin and made her face at him. Get this straight, Murphy, you didn't do anything wrong. Do you understand that? I don't ever want you to think that.

But why couldn't I carry him? Why did this stupid body fail me? You know that's why I'm an only child. My mother lost three more after I was born, two miscarriages and the last was stillborn. What if I'm like her?

Hey! Why does anything happen in this crazy world? He continued more carefully, We can't explain it. But please, Mia, don't give up. You know the doctor said that we could try again. You just need to take it easy for now.

He could be wrong.

We've been through this. Your prenatal exam said that you could have children, and your post exam said that everything was okay, so we're going to have to trust that and be patient.

She mumbled under her breath, only half-convinced, I did trust. And I have been patient.

He shook his head. You know, if you are going to be so negative all the time, maybe that's why you can't shake this thing.

You're right. It is my fault.

Aw c'mon! You know I'm not saying that! You're hearing what you want to hear. All I'm saying is that we can try for another in the future.

"You don't get it do you? We had a baby and I lost him! And we'll never know what he'll be like or what he was going to grow to be. And I didn't even get a chance to hold him. She broke down again. He was depending on me ... I failed him ..."

We've gone around and around with all of this for more than a couple of months now, Mia. It's not good for you. You know your dad would have said—

Leave my father out of this!

Okay ... But you're going to have to start pulling yourself together. He grew quiet. You think that I don't give a damn about any of this. But I do. I really do. You don't seem to realize that I also had to let it go and get on with my life.

Listen—just leave, okay? I want to be by myself right now, Mia snapped and turned to the wall.

C'mon, Hon, don't shut me out. I want to help you through this. Dan laid his hand on her shoulder, Murph —

She shrugged it off.

He pulled his hand back. Suit yourself. You can't beat this if you don't want to even try, he said, rising.

She remained silent, her back rigid to him. Her tears fell leaving wet spots on her faded sweat pants. On his way out, he hit the light switch, bathing the darkened room in bright light. There she sat, vulnerable, exposed under its cold white circle that illuminated her shame. She gasped turning her tearstained face up. 

Please turn that off.

No. If you want it off, you are going to have to get yourself out of that hole that you are in and turn it off yourself, he said as he headed out of the bedroom.

Dan? Please? Please—

◊ ◊ ◊

Too many times before he had turned back around to apologize and couldn't help but wonder if he were only making matters worse. In the kitchen he grabbed the slice of cold pizza and a beer. Plunking down in the armchair in the living room next to the pile of half-folded clothes, he turned on the TV and pretended to watch. Through the corner of his eye, he could see the light switch off in the bedroom. Next, the door slammed shut and within seconds, he heard her sobbing bitterly.

Losing his appetite, he threw down the pizza and picked up the beer instead. He hated what had just happened, but was at a loss for what else he could have done. In the past, before the miscarriage, they would have reached out to each other to comfort and console. Now she kept pushing him away. All they seemed to do anymore was argue.

Whatever happened to the person he married just a few years ago? He surfed listlessly through the channels although nothing held his attention. Finally he left it on a sitcom, but its one-liners and canned laughter did not reach his ears. 

He understood the loss of the baby devastated her, leading to this heavy bout of depression, but her obstetrician had reassured him that in time she would get back on track. But her depression was getting worse. Her father's death last year was quite a blow to her. She seemed to have recovered, especially with all the excitement of the pregnancy. But maybe she hadn't recovered as fully as he had previously thought.

Whenever he mentioned her father in trying to help her through her grief, she became upset. He eventually dropped it. He missed him too. It was as close to knowing what it would be like to lose his own father. Stephanos was a warm-hearted, generous, and easy person to talk to. And if it weren't for Poppa Pappas he would have never met Mia.

Although tension from their fallout hung heavy in the air, the memory of the obvious setup that had brought them together made him smile inwardly, in spite of himself. His father and Pop worked side by side for over eleven years as aircraft mechanics for a small private airline. Together throughout the workweek, the two close friends would plot their retirements; plan joint travels for RVs they wanted to buy; and schemed to match their kids together. Eventually they had waited and conspired long enough until the time was right. Once Dan came home from his tour of duty with the Navy, the two old connivers set upon him and Mia.

Within hours of his call to tell them of his arrival at homeport, the senior Labonts held a cookout in his honor and invited the Pappases as their guests with very obvious intentions. It worked. Despite feeling a bit intimidated by her scrutinizing mother, Dan couldn't help but fall head over heels for the spunky girl that nothing ever seemed to keep down.

Overcome with fatigue from putting in long hours at work, he started to doze in the armchair, dreaming about San Diego and when they were first married. He saw them on that lonely wild beach filled with craggy rocks and secret coves. Mia was wearing her bikini with the ugly flowers on it, but she made it look great. He could see her laughing and running before him on that summer's day, her slender legs covered with sand and her long wet hair clinging to her back. They had made love on the beach later in the evening after the sun had gone down with nothing but the sound of the waves, the light of a small campfire and the warmth of their bodies. After minutes of dreaming, Dan was deep asleep.

At work the next day, echoes of their fight from the night before resounded in his head. He knew she would be depressed again today and hated being at odds with her, especially when she was down. He also didn't want to give her the impression that he was upset with her since he didn't climb into bed until the early hours of the morning and had left for work before she had awaken. Tossing it about for a while, he finally conceded and picked up the phone.

Babe? Listen, I'm sorry about last night. I know I said some things that were out of line. You don't deserve that. But it seemed that when I tried to cheer you up, I only made things worse. I want to understand what is going on and I want to be there for you, he explained, But it made me feel like nothing I said made any difference.

There was silence on the other end. Then she said quietly, No ... you did make a difference. I am feeling better. Thanks for trying. 

She sounded distant as if she were focusing on everything else but their conversation. Still, he was relieved to hear that she wasn't angry with him.

Are you sure you're okay? You seem, I don't know—distracted or something.

No, I'm okay. Really. Don't worry. I'm not mad at you ... in fact, I'm sorry for putting you through all of this ... I'm sorry for a lot of things ...

Hey, you don't have to apologize for anything, okay? We'll see this through together. Just like we have everything else, all right? You know, if I can finish up these last few edits, I think I can make it home earlier tonight. Maybe we could go out to dinner or something. How ‘bout that Greek restaurant at the plaza that you wanted to try?

Sure ... I'll see you then.

Her abruptness seemed odd, but not wanting to over-analyze every one of her actions, he turned to the editing board and cued up the feed. Maybe he would have another chance at patching things up between them after all. Their phone conversation had hinted at the possibility of things resembling some normalcy tonight, so he was anxious to get home to spend some time with her. He didn't realize how much he missed her.

Dan wasn't able to leave Pryus Productions as early as he had planned. His partner had to leave because of a dental appointment. And the hard drive started acting up, just as his supervisor came in with a few last minute changes to a clip. On the drive home, each delay in traffic felt like points deducted off a big timecard.

The house was dark when he drove up. Dan felt a twinge of disappointment in realizing that she may not even be there, but her Hyundai parked along the side yard confirmed her presence somewhere close by. The front door was unlocked when he tried his key and it swung open to a living room with no one in it.

Babe? he called to let her know he was home.

He wanted to remind her to lock the doors when she was home by herself, but something didn't feel right. He went directly to the bedroom where she had been spending a lot of time recently, but didn't see her there either. As he returned to kitchen, he switched on lights as he went.

Mia?

There were four unchecked messages on the answering machine and a half-gallon of milk left opened on the counter beside an unused glass. Feeling its sides as he put it away, the milk was at room temperature indicating that it had been out for a while. Perplexed, he headed back to the bedroom to change his clothes.

Maybe she's out back or talking to Mrs. Lopez next door.

His foot struck against something that rattled and spun across the wood floor. Picking it up, he was startled to see that it was an open box of ammunition. When he slid out the plastic tray, a round of bullets was gone. The box was full the last time he had checked it.

Mia?! he called as he started to search frantically throughout the house. 

He took a quick glance to the backyard, and then in every room, but she was nowhere to be found.

He returned to their bedroom once more, preparing to tear apart the house room by room if he had to. As he came around to his side of the bed, he discovered her in her nightgown, huddled in the corner between the bed and the wall. She was trembling and dazed but wouldn't face him. In her hand she held his old .38 service revolver that he kept up on the shelf in their closet.

Oh my god! Mia? He knelt by her side, fighting back panic.

I didn't mean it ... I didn't mean it ... she whispered.

Are you okay? Are you hurt? 

He looked her over quickly and seeing no blood anywhere, he carefully placed his hand on the weapon. What happened? What are you doing with the gun? Mia? Did someone come into the house?

When he tried to take it from her, she gripped it firmly.

I didn’t mean it… I didn’t… I didn’t mean it…. she repeated with more agitation, not seeming to be aware that he was beside her. 

Honey, give me the gun, he said slowly and deliberately, trying to remain calm as he pried her fingers from it. C’mon—let it go, Mia. 

She continued to stare beyond him not responding to his voice or touch. When he finally freed the weapon, he promptly opened the cylinder, shook out the bullets and put them in his pocket. Then he took the empty revolver and slid it across the floor, away from them. 

Trembling himself, he gathered her in his arms and held her tight. That’s my girl, he said weakly. With her out of harm’s way, only then did he allow a sigh of relief to escape. Was someone here? Tell me what happened.

She broke down in ragged sobs. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it.

I know, Honey. It’s okay…I know, he whispered hoarsely as he stroked her hair. He held her in his arms and rocked her gently. 

If there had been an intruder, he could have dealt with it. But the realization of what she was attempting to do struck a hard blow. He racked his brain over what could have driven her to this point. She had been depressed about the miscarriage, but he never thought she was capable of something like this. Not Mia. She cherished life and everything associated with it.

After about an hour, he felt her tense body slip into a fitful sleep. Then he placed her in their bed and covered her. It took him another hour to make his own body relinquish the terror that gripped him. For the rest of the night, he kept a sleepless, anxious vigil in a chair by her side. 

Dan knew she couldn’t continue on this way. What if he had been delayed even longer at work? An overwhelming pain engulfed him as he imagined finding her lifeless body sprawled out on the floor.  What could she end up doing tomorrow or the day after that? He couldn’t be with her every minute. He had never been enthusiastic about psychiatry, but Mia couldn’t keep fighting this alone. 

By nine-thirty the next morning, he had already spoken to two receptionists, a triage nurse, and an insurance representative liaison but was nowhere near to talking to a doctor. Pacing up and down the living room floor with the phone, his voice rose in frustration.

"Goddamnit! You people are just not getting this, are you? Haven’t you heard what I’ve been saying? My wife tried to shoot herself last night! What the hell does