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  My hands are dripping with sweat, and my panic turns into nausea when I see who it is.

  Chapter Three:

  Lilykin

  “Mommy. Mommmyyy.”

  My eyes peel open, and through their blurry slits, I see the inviting amber dawn from my bedroom window. “Oh, thank God,” I whisper, as my breath hugs my lungs. I let my eyelids rest again and a deep exhale pushes past my lips. It felt so real this time. On autopilot, my arm extends to learn what time it is, and stretches towards the nightstand to where my phone typically beckons me. A subtle wave of phone withdrawal and irritation hits me when I remember my phone hasn’t miraculously transported here from my office.

  “Mommmyyy.”

  My body follows its usual routine in response to this command: with my eyes still closed, I roll to the side and push off the bed with my left hand. “Ow!” I look down. The tip of my cooking knife is pricking the palm of my hand. Ugh, this sleepwalking is getting really old.

  “Mommmyyy.” Lily tries one last time to summon me from her room down the hall. Her sweet voice shakes me out of this bizarre reality test. I wince at the dime-sized spot of blood on my hand, and wipe it on my pajamas. I lean over the side of the bed and toss the knife to its original home.

  My sleepy-eyed four-year-old alarm clock walks into the room. It’s the strangest feeling to have my body annoyed about being woken up at a ridiculous hour, but for all that annoyance to melt away when I see her. My hips hinge my upper body back onto the bed. I can feel my face soften as I see Lily’s blonde curls bouncing. She clutches her favorite monkey, Max, in one hand, and her blanket in the other. This blanket was the smoothest fleece that Dylan and I could find when she was a baby. It’s been through hundreds of laundry cycles since. Max is still intact; his lanky arms and legs swing from side to side as Lily closes the gap between us.

  We flow into the unspoken mini ritual we’ve created together every time Dylan goes out. Our mouths don’t utter a word, but our eyes say, “Let’s snuggle.” She’s tall enough now to climb onto my bed without help. We’ve done this dance dozens of times, and each and every time, she snuggles into me, closes her eyes, and I hold her close and wish that I could magically keep her this safe in my arms forever. I can see only her profile as Lily’s cheeks puff up with her smile. Her long dark eyelashes tell me her eyes are opening. She turns her head and then her body, never letting go of her blanket and Max, as if they’re stuck to her hands. Her face shines with her bright smile as her eyes meet mine. She nuzzles into me even closer. This is home.

  Lily’s little arm moves next to mine, and she looks at our matching birthmarks. Her hand grabs mine and guides it to her face. I follow her nonverbal request. I let my index finger gently trace her eyebrows, then down the bridge of her nose, around her cupid’s bow lips, drawing the outline of her face starting from her chin up to her soft cheeks and across her forehead. She’s simply perfect.

  My heart starts to feel heavy, and my chest stings a little. This is how it’s supposed to be, right here in this moment: tender, sweet, calm—no fear, no chaos. She reminds me so much of myself when I was her age: attached to my mom’s leg in public, always looking down and not daring to lock eyes with anyone. I would have diagnosed myself with Selective Mutism when I was four, and Lily seems to be the same. You’re lucky if she says a word to you if you’re not family, and she has the same permanent frown on her face that I did when anyone talks to her. A tear escapes my eye, and I raise my shoulder towards my cheek to wipe it dry. My tracing finger is resting on Lily’s temple. “Again, Mommy,” she whispers as she falls asleep.

  The clank from the garage door jolts me out of this bliss. Dylan’s home. Late, of course, but home. I look over at Lily. She’s sound asleep.

  Not only does he drain our accounts with nights like this, but he just never listens. I wish he would take an Uber like I tell him to when he goes out, or not get obliterated every time he’s with friends, but he insists that he sobers up with water at the end of the night. Fine, I’ll never win any of our arguments. I just hope he doesn’t reek of liquor.

  The sunlight bleeds through the blinds and spills onto the bed, alerting me that it’s shower time. I climb over Lily and let her sleep for a bit longer.

  I meet Dylan at the bathroom door and he shuffles towards me. A wave of irritation rises in my stomach as I breathe in the whiskey he swore he wouldn’t drink last night. I push down all my feelings and put on my Super-wife cape.

  “Hi honey,” I manage, pecking him with an obligatory kiss. My closed lips force a smile. Isn’t this what a good wife is supposed to do?

  His bloodshot eyes are too tired to maintain contact. “Hey babe,” he says, and pushes past me, making it just in time to get to the toilet and not vomit on the floor. The pungent odors of his fun night fill the room. My stomach and esophagus dry heave as my body fights the reflex to put my own head in the toilet. I can’t believe this is happening again! I let myself sink into the most familiar role I know: caretaker. My open hand lays against his slouched back, massaging and soothing him in a circular motion.

  I’m reminded of the nightmare last night when my palm stings, and I push the image of that face from behind the door out of my mind.

  I look up and catch a glimpse of Dylan’s eyes from his profile. I can see a hint of the man I married. There he is.

  These moments drive me crazy. They’re so back and forth between love and hate. This isn’t really him. I glance over at Lily, whose eyes are fluttering open.

  “Hun, I’m going to shower and then get Lily ready for school. Next time, can you promise to take an Uber?” Even as the words leave my mouth, I know I’m wasting my breath. He peels his body away from the toilet and drags himself to the sink. My Dylan is starting to come back as he splashes water on his face and swishes a capful of mouthwash.

  I flush the toilet for him, wash my hands, and find myself behind him. Both of my hands reach up to massage his shoulders, and run my fingers through his sandy blonde hair and let my thumb and fingertips massage his neck. I can’t remember the last time we had sex. Feeling his skin against mine right now makes me yearn for more. I press my lips against the spot between his shoulder blades. He rotates his entire body on his left foot, looks at me with his heart-stopping emerald eyes. He wraps his arms around my waist, then brings one hand up to play with my hair.

  “I thought you weren’t going to cut it,” he furrows his brow.

  “I only took off a few inches. It’s still long,” I feel the sting of shame, being inspected and not good enough. “I like it,” I say softly, my pathetic attempt at asserting myself.

  “Ok,” he huffs, kisses me on the forehead - kissing away any erotic craving I just had.

  “Ewwwww,” Lily says through giggles. She’s gotten herself out of bed and is barreling towards us. She stretches out her hands, jumps up and wraps her arms and legs around our thighs like a little cub. My muscles tighten in an effort to not lose my balance. This must be all the energy she holds in when she’s walking around shy and quiet all day outside of these four walls. Lily leans her torso back, keeping a good grip on us, looks at Dylan, points to her nose and sings, “Daddyyyy!”

  Dylan picks her up high in the air and kisses her on the nose, “Myy liiittle Liilykin,” he says in a singsong tone.

  “Lily King, Daddy,” she giggles as he puts her back down. Their exchange is one of my favorite things to watch.

  “I’m hungry!” Lily announces.

  “Babe,” Dylan’s eyes beg me to rescue him.

  “I got it, hun,” I say and kiss him on the lips, grateful he used mouthwash.

  “I’m gonna lay down for a bit,” he says, taking off his shoes and clothes. He puts on his pajamas and climbs into bed. I can’t help but roll my eyes. Am I jealous or angry?

  I squat down in front of Lily and sweep strands of hair away from her face, tucking them behind her ear. “Daddy’s going to rest and I’ll
make some oatmeal for you after we get ready, ok?” Lily bounces back to her room, and I shift into overdrive.

  Dylan left his phone in the bathroom. I check the time. I have exactly 42 minutes until we need to be in the car and heading to school.

  In one swift move, my fingertips turn the shower knob all the way to the left and I wait until the water gets warm. I swivel around to face the glass bowl sink and lean over and brush my teeth. The steam from the shower paints a thin layer of fog on the mirror. I catch my reflection before it’s fully effaced, and gasp for a second when I see that face from my nightmare and he’s standing behind me! I flip around and there’s no one there. Ugggg! I don’t have time for this! I flip back around and cup water into my hands and rinse out my mouth, clean my toothbrush, tap it on the edge of the sink and toss it into its holder.

  My vision clears again, and my mind returns back here in this bathroom. I fixate on the freestanding vessel bowl we had installed last year. I follow the ice-blue lines that were designed with an artistic hand to look like soft waves on the beach—you know how they layer and rest near the sand? I let my fingers play with the warm water flowing from the waterfall faucet. I turn my head to the right, looking at the real waves outside my window in the distance. It’s so beautiful and peaceful out there. The palm trees, the flowers, the endless ocean water; it’s an unreachable world.

  I pull my attention back inside and shut off the water. As much as I try to resist looking in the mirror, my eyes rebel. I see that my reflection is just a shell of a woman who’s becoming more and more invisible each day. I’ve lost my identity. I’m looking at a stranger. What’s wrong with me? When did this happen? I raise my hand to my cheek and feel my skin. I’m disappearing. My already thin frame is melting away. I’m such a zombie. I look in the mirror at those dark circles, those same eyes that were once smiling and now hollow and empty. Marriage has made me invisible—dead.

  I’m struck by the photo of Dylan and me, hanging on the wall in a green frame. It’s strange how the younger versions of ourselves are preserved in blurry old photos. I think we’d only been dating for a few months when that was taken. We were on vacation in Maldives and celebrating my birthday. We looked attractive and so young and in love. I feel tears trickling down my cheeks. My vision is getting distorted now, but I focus on the green frame. I’m dissociating, traveling back and forth from that trip all those years ago when life was actually fun and then coming back to the chaos that has now become my life, crying myself to sleep more times than I’d care to admit. Where did those lovebirds go? Did they die? Are they just buried under a huge pile of distraction, waiting to be uncovered? Was that love even real? It had to be. It’s still there. I feel it. I want us back. I miss my Dylan.

  I pull the faucet lever towards me on the sink so that the mini waterfall streams down. I cup the water in my hands and rinse out my mouth, and then splash water onto my face, feeling the instant soothing sensation on my burning bloodshot eyes. I push the faucet lever back, and the waterfall goes away. I grab a hand towel and pat my skin dry. I glance again at that photo of the couple who no longer exists. I see her eyes and his, and they’re smiling—really smiling. They were a happy couple. The one everyone compared themselves to. They were in love; deeply in love. And love goes through deaths and births. We just need something to come in and revive us.

  The bright numbers on Dylan’s phone smack me in the face with reality. 33 minutes left. Shit! I slip off my pajamas and hop into the shower, that’s been running the entire time I drifted into la-la land. Nice, J. You just wasted a bathtub full of water. It’s almost burning my skin. Trying to beat the clock, I don’t stray from my routine: wash my face, shampoo and condition my hair. I feel as if I’m standing across from myself, watching as I’m shaving my legs. I’m looking down at my body in a way I would imagine seeing myself through someone else’s eyes. A wave of sadness comes over me.

  “Mommy!” Lily calls from her room. “I can’t find my funny sweater,” she says, or so I think, because the sounds of the shower muffle her words.

  “Just a minute!” I say loudly. Her funny sweater?

  “What?!” she yells.

  “Lily, can you come here, please? I’ve told you I can’t hear you when I’m in the shower.” I’m almost done mowing the lawn on my legs, and I nick the same spot on my knee every time. The water tries to hide the blood that’s now confidently leaking out of that razor slice, as I’m pushing away the images that flash in my mind from that nightmare: that haunting face stalking me, having this power over me. I lather my body with soap, and wish I could tell the water to move faster across my skin.

  My first mission is completed in what I think is a new record time. The volume lowers to mute in this tiny room when I move the shower lever all the way to Off. I close my eyes and sneak in a 20-second spa vacation. The steam cleanses my pores, and keeps me goosebump-free as I’m dripping wet.

  Lily peeks her head between the shower curtain and the wall, adorable and annoyed. “Mommy, I said I can’t find my bunny sweater. The one I got from Grandma and Grandpa.”

  Ah, her bunny sweater. I grab my towel and point to the bedroom. “I did laundry last night, sweetie. It’s folded in the stack of clothes on top of my dresser.”

  “Oh!” she peeps and disappears. I wipe most of my body down, let what’s left air dry, bend over so that my hair is dangling downward, and wrap it in my towel. I flip back up and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My collarbone is sticking out. That new; can’t be good.

  Dylan’s phone vibrates with a notification, snapping me out of this hard look at reality. I swipe my thumb upwards to clear his recurring “Gym at 8 AM” reminder. “Ha,” an annoyed laugh escapes my lips.

  I have 23 minutes before we need to be out the door. I fall back onto the racetrack that is my life. Deodorant, foundation, mascara, lip gloss. I’m like a robot. Serve people, work, serve people, work. I guess this is the life I signed up for.

  I loosen the towel and hang it on the rack, let my hair fall down and back, and brush out the tangles. I fly into the bedroom and land in my closet. My hand doesn’t have the patience to figure out what to wear today, and just snags the usual. I slide on my bra and panties, throw on black slacks and gray top, being careful not to wake Dylan. Who am I kidding? He wouldn’t move an inch if Lily and I started jumping on the bed. He should be helping me anyway. I look up and see my old books and college spiral bound notebooks tucked in the corner on the shelf of the closet. I let my fingers grab the only notebook that still gets attention these days. and pull it out. I sit down on the carpet in this small space, with my back against the hanging jackets, and flip through the handwritten pages.

  March 15, 2015

  I’m in a fairytale. I swear! He bumped into me today near the psych building, right after Professor Burgeon’s class. I practically died when he started talking to me. He said he’s majoring in law, which is amazing. He’s seriously the hottest guy on campus. My heart was beating so fast, I thought it was going to fly right out of my chest and land on the ground between us. He looked like he walked straight out of a photo shoot. His sandy blonde hair was messy, but in that perfect hot guy kind of messy. And he stood there in front of me so tall, without a care in the world. And his eyes, oh my God I was entranced by his emerald eyes. I was in bliss for a good minute and a half. There were actual sparkling flecks in his eyes!

  I flip some pages.

  September 3, 2015

  Oh my God!!!! I can’t believe what just happened!! Dylan said we were just going over to his parents’ house for dinner. They’ve been over our place a couple of times, but I was kinda nervous about finally going to their house. And Oh. My. God. His father is an architect and designed most of the properties n Malibu sitting along PCH, including their own house. We pulled up to the gate, and I had to pick my jaw up off the floor when I realized his home looks like the Four Seasons. I knew they had money, but wow. Their mansion sprawls across a few acres of
land, which is rare for LA. After the housekeeper buzzed us in, we drove along the palm tree-lined road, past Charlie and Winifred, their horses?? past the tennis court!? past the fruit trees, an organic vegetable garden. It’s out of this world. We had the windows down and it was amazing! The drive up to their house is filled with scents of orange, lemon, fig… We get inside their 12,000-square-foot Malibu pad, that has an elevator?! floor-to-ceiling glass doors that overlook an infinity pool with ocean views, and a wraparound deck with a fire pit. The chef and housekeeper’s quarters are in the back, which is triple the size of my family’s Valencia apartment. Dylan blindfolded me and I was so weirded out. I’m meeting his parents and he’s doing one of his surprise things now?? I started getting annoyed at him and said I don’t want my eye makeup to get messed up with his little games, and want my first time meeting his parents to be special. He secured the blindfold even tighter and took my hand as he walked me through the house and out to the backyard. Oh my god!! He takes the blindfold off and I’m standing in the middle of their enormous beautifully lit garden, surrounded by his parents and his sister, AND my mom and Kyle were even there! Seeing my brother had me instantly know something was up. Sarah and Helen were there! Jake and Jane. Everyone knew! And then the most incredible thing ever happened! I still can’t believe it. Just like in the movies. Dylan got down on one knee and asked me to marry him! I started crying and couldn’t even believe what was happening, that I didn’t even respond. And of course I ended up saying yes! Then he put this huge diamond on my finger. I’ve never even had a diamond anything in my life. Oh my God I’m getting married!!

  I flip some more.