As she made her way up the steps, she listened to the door closing behind her with a high pitched squeak. When she didn’t hear it latch, she glanced back. There was nobody there. It must’ve just not closed all the way. For a second, she considered descending the stairs and pushing it closed. The thought alone exhausted her. She’d just be sure to lock the doors of her studio. It wasn’t like St. Marks was a rough neighborhood.
A moment later, she felt a wave of relief to be looking at her bed again. It was the first time she could remember feeling happy to be inside of the two hundred square foot room. For once, she didn’t care that the bed was next to the fridge. Or that the only thing she had to cook on was a plug-in hot plate. Or the fact she could only use disposable dishes since she didn’t have a kitchen sink. Or the bathroom situation which had been the hardest thing to adjust to. Sharing a bathroom with her neighbor—an older man who’d been recently widowed—wasn’t ideal.
Her bed called to her. She needed to take a shower. Between the hospital and the subway, who knew what sorts of viruses or diseases she’d come in contact with. Her eyelids felt heavy though. She could just change clothes and shower in the morning. Skipping a shower this once wouldn’t kill her.
After letting her clothes fall to the floor, she slid under the cool comforter and closed her eyes. A sigh escaped from her body. It had been a very long day. It was over though. At least, it was. The note flashed through her mind. That handwriting. The same handwriting that had signed a marriage certificate only thirteen months ago.
Congratulations are in order I hear…for both of us.
Her eyelids shot open. She was fully awake now. Sitting up, she felt a thump inside of her. Then another. She wasn’t hungry, but the baby was. She hadn’t eaten in almost twelve hours. Her blood sugar was probably low. The thought of eating sickened her, but she didn’t have a choice. Unless she wanted her bladder to continue to be karate chopped, she needed to eat something.
She flipped the lights back on and walked to the fridge. She didn’t have to rummage through it to know what was inside. Jello. Deli turkey. String cheese. Chinese takeout. She grabbed the styrofoam box. Cold takeout it was.
The rice had turned into hard pieces of plastic since the day before. She cringed as she tried to chew. She needed to get a microwave, and soon. The breading on General Tsao’s chicken had gotten soggy. At least the baby had stopped kicking. She washed down the plastic food with water from her reusable water bottle. This was temporary, she reminded herself. As soon as she had enough money saved up to move into a real apartment, she would.
From the hallway, she heard a noise—like footsteps. It was probably just Mr. Barker. He always did bingo on Monday nights. She glanced at her phone. It was a little early for him to be back. Maybe he’d won in the first game.
A shadow passed through the crack under her doorway. It moved quickly. Mr. Barker never moved quickly. She sat up straighter. Her heart began to race inside of her chest. If it wasn’t Mr. Barker in the hallway, who was it? Nobody else had a key to the door downstairs except the owner of the building, Mr. Walker. Maybe he was checking on the hot water situation she’d complained about last week.
Julie stood up and walked toward the hallway. She needed to tell Mr. Walker about her freezer not getting cold enough lately. She unlocked her door and stepped into the empty hallway. There was nobody there. She hadn’t just imagined a shadow passing by. Feeling her heart speed up again, she walked toward the bathroom she and Mr. Barker shared. She wasn’t alone in this building. She could feel it. Somebody else was here.
The bathroom light was off. She turned the knob and pushed the door open. Flipping the light to the on position, her shoulders tensed. Empty. The bathroom was empty. The hallway was empty. There was nobody there. Maybe she was imagining things. She washed her hands, remembering that she hadn’t before she started eating. Then, turning to go back to her room, she turned off the light. She just needed some sleep.
Chapter 2
The next morning, the sound of Mr. Barker’s door closing next door woke Julie before her alarm could. She’d never been able to fall back asleep so there was no point in trying. Sitting up, the blood rushed to her head. “Aagh,” she moaned from the instant headache that came on. Touching the back of her head, she almost screamed at the pain. “Stupid,” she said aloud, scolding herself for forgetting about the stitches. The pain was worse today than it had been before, and the thought of going to work made bile rise in her throat.
As if she wasn’t in enough pain already, the baby jammed its foot or fist into her ribs, sending sharp shooting pains through her. She bit her lip to stop herself from yelling. Just in case Mr. Barker wasn’t up like she thought, she didn’t need to be the reason he woke up. The walls were as thin as paper practically. It didn’t take much to upset Mr. Barker. He wasn’t a kind old man, but he was at least a good enough neighbor. He could’ve been much worse. She did her best to return the courtesy.
The bathroom was available fortunately when she walked across the hall to take a shower. One day, she wouldn’t have to share a bathroom with her grumpy neighbor. The thought helped at least. Having to walk anywhere to take a shower took her back to summer camp days. Back then, the boys from the other side of the camp tried to sneak peeks from over the fence as girls exited the trucker-stop style showers wrapped in nothing but towels. The idea of getting a peek at the girl’s newly developed mosquito bites had become exciting to them only recently, and the camp supervisors were none the wiser. The camp finally got shut down when one of the girls, Tracy Bell, ended up pregnant.
Julie glanced down at her stomach as she stepped into the lukewarm stream of water. She wondered how Tracy was now. The thought of having a baby at thirty-one had been terrifying enough, much less at thirteen. The water hit the top of her head in a constant stream, running down her neck onto her stitches. Julie closed her eyes and listened as the water pounded against her head. She jumped at the knock at the door. Mr. Barker didn’t usually bother her during showers.
“Ms. Harper?” a man’s voice said through the door.
She turned off the water and wrapped the towel around her body. “Who is it?” she asked, trying not to sound too afraid. She grabbed her phone from the sink and dialed 9-1-
“Mr. Walker. I came to see about the water not getting hot enough.”
Did she detect a tone of doubt in his voice?
“I’ll be right out,” she said.
She deleted the numbers on her screen and let her shoulders drop.
***
Clara’s eyes met Julie’s with a look of surprise as she walked into the building. As if the processor in her brain was computing, her eyes widened and then narrowed. “Wh—” she began to say. “What are you doing here?”
Julie swerved right, around the leather chairs in the waiting area, then left, past Clara’s desk. Clara jumped to her feet and followed. “Julie, why are you here?”
“I work here,” Julie said, not slowing her pace.
“No duh. You should be at home.” Clara’s voice faded as Harris and Walter, colleagues, walked by discussing the news. “You lost a lot of blood.”
Julie turned the knob and opened the door to her office. The broken vase was gone. Only a faded bloodstain was left to tell the story of what happened. The cleaners that came around every night must’ve cleaned up the mess. Thank goodness they removed the ba—Julie’s heart stopped.
“What’s that still doing here?” she mumbled.
“What?” Clara asked.
Julie couldn’t make herself move another inch. “Can you take the basket?” Her mouth was dry. “Please.”
Clara was standing beside her now. “Sure. Why? I thought you loved Swe—”
“Just take it!” Julie blurted louder than she meant to. “I’m sorry. Please just…just take it or throw it away. Do whatever you want. Just get it out of here.”
Clara’s hand made her jump as it touched her shoulder. “Julie, what is going on with
you?”
I hear congratulations are in order…for both of us.
Julie’s head throbbed where the vase had cut her. She forgot to eat breakfast again. It’d never been her habit to eat breakfast on workdays, but the doctor said that she needed to make it a habit now that she was pregnant. She reached for the chair where her patients usually sat and braced herself. Gravity was suddenly stronger. She eased her hips around the arms of the chair and sat, plopping down harder than she meant to. Her head pounded.
“I’m taking you home,” Clara said.
“No.”
“Yes. You shouldn’t be trying to work after what happened yesterday. You have more than just yourself to think about now.”
Tears felt hot as they rose to Julie’s eyes. Her head was splitting from pain and the air felt cold and heavy, but that wasn’t what was causing the tears. She could hear his voice saying the words in the note. It was clear like he was in the room now. Congratulations. How had he heard she was pregnant? Who would tell him something like that? Certainly not her family. And she hadn’t posted anything on social media. Did he still have access to her medical records? She’d given him access back when they were mar—fake married. No. She’d taken him off. The only way he could’ve heard that she was pregnant was through…oh, gosh. Her friends had had big mouths in the past, but she could only hope they’d know better than to gossip about her pregnancy. Hope and ask them directly.
“Julie.” Clara’s voice sounded far away. “Julie.”
When Julie blinked, she was back in her office again, only feet away from a basket that he had touched and thoughtfully prepared for her. Why would he think she would want to hear from him? They’d said goodbye on friendly-enough terms. That should’ve been the end of it.
“The basket is from the guy I was married to.” She didn’t have to say his name or explain why she didn’t want to receive a basket from him. Clara was a coworker, not a friend, Julie told herself even though a pang of guilt told her otherwise. Clara had taken her to the hospital and sat with her, held her hand even. She could’ve just called an ambulance or dropped her off at the entrance of the hospital. Clara was nice though. But that didn’t make her a friend.
“Oh,” Clara said. “I can just throw it in the dumpster out back then. You don’t need to see it every time you walk past the reception desk.” Clara offered a warm smile.
“Thanks,” Julie said. “And I didn’t get a chance to thank you for yesterday. You didn’t have to—”
“I wanted to.”
Clara’s niceness was suffocating, like being drowned. The nicer she was, the further Julie felt herself sinking. Into what, she wasn’t sure. Each favor felt as if it was being stacked on top of her, weighing her down until she couldn’t breathe. Why though? Normal people didn’t feel this way, Julie thought. Just because Clara is being nice doesn’t mean she expects anything in return. Not everyone is manipulative. Accepting help doesn’t make someone weak.
“Thank you,” Julie finally said again.
Clara was already walking toward the door with the basket in her arms. She paused by the door. “Can I ask you a favor in return?”
Julie swallowed. This was what happened when people were kind.
“Can you take the day off? Please?” she asked when Julie didn’t respond.
So that was the favor. Asking Julie to do something for her health.
“I will take the day off if I start to feel bad. Okay?”
Clara’s eyes narrowed. “Sure.”
***
Time had ticked away slower than usual. Julie had struggled to stay awake as Mr. Hall talked about his deprived childhood again. Julie had to remind him not to dwell on the past. How would he go forward? Mrs. Twain was even harder to listen to. She said the other teachers at her job were whispering about her in the break room. The kids were glaring at her. Even the janitor had animosity toward her. Julie told her that the whole world couldn’t be against her. That she was projecting her feelings onto others. Instead of assuming they dislike you, assume the opposite unless they tell you otherwise. It was advice Julie needed to give herself. The sessions moved along slowly and painfully.
Julie popped two more Tylenol as the aching in the back of her head became impossible to ignore. It only took five minutes for nausea to hit. She hadn’t eaten breakfast…again and it was almost time for lunch. Gripping her desk to stand, she eased out of her chair. Please don’t throw up. The thought of food made the turning feeling in her stomach worse, but she needed to eat something. Anything.
Julie scrolled through Panera Bread’s menu on her phone, adding macaroni and cheese to her cart with a simple tap of her finger. It was one of the only places close enough to deliver without having to use an Uber. Her finger hovered over the checkout button. A cookie wouldn’t hurt anything. The chocolate chip looked good. Julie added two cookies to the cart. One for Clara. She clicked the checkout button. Food would magically appear on her desk in twenty minutes.
***
Her back aches as she climbed the stairs to her studio apartment. At least this pain was unrelated to the accident yesterday. This was just part of carrying a human in her stomach. As if the baby had read her mind, it offered a punch to the kidney. It. She. She offered a punch to her stomach. Maybe knowing that the baby was a girl was supposed to make her feel more bonded. It didn’t. Maybe it should help to know that the baby would look more like her than him. But it didn’t. The baby would look like both of them. They looked so much alike, it would be almost impossible to tell whose nose or eyes she had. They had the same nose and eyes.
Bile rose in Julie’s throat. Why hadn’t that been a red flag? Because her father had lied about having a son. That’s why. Nobody would suspect that they had a secret half-brother out there somewhere or that their half-brother would seduce them into…She sighed. Thinking about the past won’t change it. Move forward. It’s what she had told Mr. Hall earlier that day.
A sound coming from the studio apartment next door made Julie stop in her tracks. She knocked on the door and waited. Nothing.
“Mr. Barker? Are you okay? I heard something fall.”
She waited. Nothing.
“Mr. Barker?” she said louder.
Mr. Barker’s hearing was fine. If he was conscious, he would’ve heard her. Julie’s heart raced at the thought of Mr. Barker lying on the floor. She fumbled to find her phone. She’d put it in her purse. Where was it? She pushed through a bottle of Tylenol, a pack of tissues, a tube of hand sanitizer, a wallet. Where was her phone? She remembered sticking it in her coat pocket.
Her hands shook as she pulled her phone out. She started to dial 9-1-1 when a voice came from the other side of the door. The voice made Julie’s heart stop. Whoever it was, it wasn’t Mr. Barker.
“I’m fine,” the man said. “And my name is John.”
John? Who was John?
Julie’s thoughts began to race. Mr. Barker hadn’t moved out, that she was aware of. And he didn’t have any children. She backed away from the door. If this John guy, or whatever his name really was, wasn’t supposed to be in Mr. Barker’s apartment, she shouldn’t be standing in the hallway when he came out.
She gripped the railing to steady herself as she descended the stairs. Until she could get to the bottom of this, it didn’t seem wise to go to her apartment. Once downstairs, she looked around. There was a coffee shop only a few feet away. Good enough.
The smell of coffee was what Julie imagined heaven smelling like. She’d given up the liquid gold that morning. The doctor had reassured her that one cup wouldn’t hurt the baby, but she’d heard too many mothers say otherwise. The risk wasn’t worth the reward. Maybe coming to a coffee shop the day she quit caffeine wasn’t a great idea. It was too late. She was here now.
She dialed Mr. Barker’s number. Going straight to the source first seemed like the smart move. The call was forwarded to voicemail after the first ring. She hung up the call before leaving a message and dialed Mr. Walker’s
number.
“Hello,” Mr. Walker said in an overly defensive voice.
He probably figured she was calling to ask about the hot water issue again, which would’ve been fair if she had been.
“Mr. Walker, I’m calling because someone was in Mr. Barker’s apartment a moment ago. He said his name was John when I knocked. I was going to call the police, but I figured I would ask you if you know of any relatives that might be visiting Mr. Barker before I do anything else.”
“Mr. Barker?” he asked as if he’d never heard of the man. “He died.”
The words almost knocked Julie off her feet. Fortunately, a chair nearby was empty. She sat. “Died? When? Why didn’t I know about this?”
“About a week ago. Had a heart attack. One of his children found him.” His voice was nonchalant as if he was talking about a stranger. Julie realized suddenly, he was. Mr. Barker was a stranger. All she knew about him was that he played bingo on Mondays and didn’t like noise. A chill went down her spine at the thought of his child finding him dead. What a horrible thing for them to have gone through. Her thoughts returned to the conversation when Mr. Walker said, “John is the new tenant that moved in a few days ago.”
“A few days ago?” Julie repeated.
“Yeah,” Mr. Walker said. “Is that all you wanted?”
Julie frowned at his impatience. She wasn’t going to bring up the water, but now she couldn’t help herself. “The water is still not getting hot enough. Winter is weeks away. I can’t be ex—”
“I already scheduled someone to come out there,” Mr. Walker said before she could finish.
Julie thought about saying thank you, but she needed to stand up for herself more if she was ever going to be respected by people and not treated like a child.
The Offspring Page 2
