When my wife looks out the window of our Victorian terraced house and sobs while the rain beats down, it\u2019s because she says our baby doesn\u2019t recognize her anymore, because she\u2019s an alien now, a glowing oval-headed monstrosity tucked into a maternity dress.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, it\u2019s true,\u201d I sigh, \u201cyou\u2019ve put on some weight. But it\u2019s only because of the breastfeeding, and it doesn\u2019t mean anything. You\u2019re still his mother and he\u2019s just a baby.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re a bay-bay!\u201d she mocks.<\/p>\n
So, I hide in the loft, chew on the rind of my mobile phone cover, and play Texas Hold\u2019em with dead spiders. When the spiders begin to tactically outclass me and the lights in the building are low, I crawl down to the kitchen and slip some cobwebs into the baby formula. Then I seek shelter in my neighbor\u2019s dog kennel. I don\u2019t know quite why I do any of these things but I\u2019m always lashing out, always hiding.<\/p>\n
In the morning, I hear my wife wandering about barefoot on our street calling my name. She\u2019s holding the baby upside down by the ankles and swinging it like a baseball bat. She likes to do that.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know you\u2019re out here,\u201d she calls.<\/p>\n
I don\u2019t have much time, so I say a prayer to my designated god, similar to a designated driver, in that it doesn\u2019t have much choice and it\u2019s more sober than anyone else. I hope my god communicates with men like me, men who hide from their wife and child in a dog kennel.<\/p>\n
When my wife finally finds me (it doesn\u2019t take long, I\u2019ve been here before), she accuses me of killing Kenny, the earless limping labradoodle whose kennel I\u2019m in.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy is everything so fucking morbid with you?\u201d I yell. \u201cEver since the baby was born you\u2019ve been such a downer; you slice a tomato, you cry; you draw the curtains, you cry; you brush your teeth, you cry. It never ends.\u201d<\/p>\n
She plonks the baby down on the pavement next to a dehydrated slug. The baby begins to crawl happily into the street, but neither of us are particularly bothered.<\/p>\n
\u201cI have postpartum depression, okay? It\u2019s a real thing. You\u2019re a psychopathic narcissist. That\u2019s a real thing, too. Okay?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSometimes,\u201d I say, \u201cit\u2019s hard to look at you because your head is just so fat. I wouldn\u2019t mind so much but you keep telling me about it every day and now I can\u2019t help but see your skull on a stick like a shamanic totem. But I realize that you\u2019re right, and we\u2019re both to blame, we\u2019re both going insane and we need psychiatric help. Soon. Immediately. But, nevertheless, the truth is I still love you and I love our child, more than ever, and I believe we can get through this. Please forgive me and let\u2019s move on. Together.\u201d<\/p>\n
My wife drags the baby from oncoming traffic and dangles it by the ankles once again. The baby smiles then pukes a little.<\/p>\n
My wife shakes her bulbous head with derision and says, \u201cYou killed Kenny, didn\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d I say, \u201cyes, I did.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
When my wife looks out the window and sobs while the rain beats down, it\u2019s because she says our baby doesn\u2019t recognize her anymore, because she\u2019s an alien now, a glowing oval-headed monstrosity tucked into a maternity dress.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":182,"featured_media":23570,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3530],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-22590","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-flash-fiction","writer-tim-frank"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22590","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/182"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=22590"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22590\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":23571,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22590\/revisions\/23571"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/23570"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=22590"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=22590"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=22590"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}