Everyone roared as Tom held an empty beer bottle over his best friend’s head, mimicking the event from decades earlier. It was a story Jenny had heard Tom tell a million times before, but never like this. It was surreal. The crowd’s reaction seemed impossible, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Tom either. Charisma seemed to be coming off him in palpable waves.
A single drop of beer from the bottle hit Kevin’s head, and he pushed away from Tom, mock angry. “That was your first mistake, Decker,” he growled. “And your last.” He turned to the crowd. “After school, he knew what was coming, so he took off immediately, but I was on his heels, my hair still sticky, ready to exact some motherfucking vengeance.” The crowd surged forward, hanging on every word, the music continuing to blast in the other room but seeming to fall away entirely as the two men spoke.
“I cut through a golf course,” Tom said quietly, as if relaying the plot of a spy movie. “A shortcut I thought only I knew about—”
“Nope!” Kevin said, holding his hand up in his best friend’s face. “Wrong!” Tom burst out laughing, as did everyone else. Tears filled Jenny’s eyes, and a huge smile erupted across her face. She loved seeing Tom like this, whether he was drunk or not. “I caught up with him in his own backyard, right as he was running up the porch steps.”
“I was sooooo close to safety,” Tom lamented.
“I lunged at him and grabbed him by one foot, and dragged him face-first down the stairs!”
In chorus, Tom and Kevin made the sound of a nine-year-old kid’s face bouncing along a set of wooden stairs. The party guests exploded into laughter at the horrifying story, chugging more alcohol and closing ranks around them.
“We’ve been friends ever since!” Tom shouted.
“And my boy just closed the Corbitt account!” Kevin added, and the crowd roared again, though none of them knew, or cared, what the Corbitt account was.
“And me and Jenny are gonna have a baby!” Tom yelled, and everyone immediately went silent. Victoria’s hand tightened around Jenny’s as if they were at sea and her younger sister was drowning.
“What?” Victoria whispered.
All eyes fell on Jenny as the crowd parted, creating a path between Tom and his wife, the barely visible bloodstain on the floor lying halfway between them. Jenny’s mouth hung open in naked shock, and then, to her surprise, a feeling of excitement and happiness consumed her.
“It’s true!” she yelled, pulling free of Victoria and walking toward Tom. He rushed forward, meeting her on top of the dim outline of spilled blood. They kissed passionately, and the surrounding, insanely drunk group of friends, family, and strangers promptly lost their shit.
* * *
The house was quiet.
The party had raged for another hour and a half after the surprise announcement of Jenny’s pregnancy, as if the good news were an infection that touched everyone in attendance. Every last drop of alcohol in the house was found and consumed, even some old and suspicious-looking bottles that must have been left by the previous couple. Murder booze, some of the guests started calling it.
But eventually, one by one, two by two, and in small groups, the neighbors vanished, most not even saying goodbye, until only Tom, Jenny, Kevin, Victoria, and Lakshmi were left, surveying the piles of garbage and toppled furniture. The homeowners simultaneously said, “Tomorrow,” shooed everyone off to bed, and soon settled in themselves.
Jenny fell asleep almost instantly, but Tom lay wide awake beside her, his mind and blood racing. The shadows on the ceiling slithered as if alive, reaching down and surrounding him, comforting him. They lifted him and carried him down one flight of stairs, and then another, and through a maze of junk that was getting easier and easier to traverse, until he was standing in front of the pulsating chrysalis.
He stared at it, marveled at how big it was becoming, almost as big as that little girl across the street, Paige. Marveled at how beautiful it looked, reflecting the string of lights he had recently purchased and begun to place along the path.
After a few minutes of silence, Tom Decker threw his arms around the chrysalis, gently placing his cheek against its sticky, oozing surface, and wept tears of unabashed joy.
MONTH FOUR
“Oh my God,” Victoria whispered.
She and Jenny were standing in the small space that would eventually become a thriving private fitness studio. Or at least that’s what Jenny hoped. Currently, it was an empty space with a lot of dust bunnies rolling around on the floor.
“It is so cute,” Victoria continued. “Great call, Jen. And the location … for the price? Amazing.”
“Really?” Jenny said, feeling better about it already. Ever since the party a few weeks earlier, she had talked to or seen Victoria every day, something that had never happened before during their twenty-seven-year relationship, not even when they were kids, living in the same house. Victoria was a master of the silent treatment. “But it’s so bare.”
“Which makes it even easier to imagine the possibilities! I mean, put some mirrors along one of the walls, get some equipment in here, and it’s going to be perfect.”
“Yeah,” Jenny said, nodding, putting her hand on her pregnant belly, “you’re right. This is really exciting.”
“Shall we go sign some paperwork?” Victoria said, and Jenny nodded enthusiastically. The building’s owner, an old woman who’d lived in the town her whole life, had been kind enough to give Jenny a key to the studio before everything was official—a sign of great things to come, she hoped.
As they left, Victoria said, “Speaking of real estate, did I tell you that I finally got Chelsea on the phone?”
“What?” Jenny nearly shouted. “No!”
“Yep,” Victoria said, rolling down the sleeves of her shirt. A cool September wind was blowing through Springdale and there was heavy rain in the forecast, but for now, it was shockingly bright despite the growing chill. “I called from a coworker’s cell phone, since she’s been ignoring me since you confronted her. I reamed her out for a good two minutes before she hung up on me. Of course, I called right back, but it went straight to voice mail, so I left a message with a ‘fucking bitch’ or two thrown in there for her to chew on. I’m tempted to call her husband next.”
Jenny laughed as they began walking the few blocks to the quaint little law office where they’d be signing the paperwork.
“You do not have to do that. But—oh, man, I wish I could have been there to hear what you said.”
“I wouldn’t want to contaminate your virgin ears with my salty language,” Victoria said, smiling.
“Yeah, right,” Jenny responded, absentmindedly putting her hand on her stomach again, which her sister noticed.
“How are you feeling?”
“Ahh, you know, the usual second-trimester stuff. I think I feel him—her?—moving around a little bit, but I’m not sure. Maybe it’s gas.”
“Knowing you, it’s probably gas,” Victoria said.
“Very funny. The best part is that I’m not really nauseous or throwing up every day anymore. That was the worst.”
“I’m sure. That’s why I never plan on getting pregnant.”
“Never say never,” Jenny admonished.
“Never,” her sister replied quickly. “There, I just said it. So, that’s it? No other symptoms? Doesn’t sound so bad.”
“Well, I didn’t mention the heartburn, the shortness of breath, constantly having to pee, the constipation—”
“All right, all right,” Victoria interrupted. “I get it.”
“Hey, you brought it up.”
“Fair.”
They walked in silence for a few seconds.
“I’ve been meaning to ask … why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“What?” Jenny asked.
“That you were pregnant. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Oh. I … I don’t know. I thought that was the rule. You don’t tell anyone until you get past those first three m
onths. That way, if anything … if something bad happens, you don’t have to … untell people.”
“Yes, that’s the general rule of thumb. But I’m not ‘people,’ Jenny. I’m your sister. I hope you feel that you can tell me stuff like that.”
“Yeah, I … I do. I mean…”
“I realize we fight too much. I’m sometimes harsher on you than I mean to be. But I love you.” Victoria stopped walking and faced her sister, who also came to an abrupt halt. “You know that, right?”
“Of course.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, Victoria. I know.”
“Good, because you’re my sister. You’re my best friend. I would do anything for you.”
“Vic, you have made that abundantly clear. In fact, if we’re being honest, I still feel incredibly bad about—”
Victoria raised a hand to Jenny’s face, silencing her. “Ah ah ah. If you’re going to bring up the money, stop right there. It is my pleasure to help. And besides, when your gym becomes a worldwide franchise and Tom is the top … whatever salesman in New York City, I’ll be the one coming to you for loans. And you’d better not say no to your poor older sister!”
“Ha,” Jenny said as they started walking again. “Never.”
“Oh! I almost forgot to mention!” Victoria blurted. “I’m blacklisting Chelsea in the sorority and with every alumnus I can get through to.”
“Victoria!” Jenny said through laughter. “It’s fine. I was pissed off, yes, but I’m more or less okay with it now. That awful stain is pretty much gone, and Tom and I are talking about having the entire kitchen totally redone once he closes a few more big deals and I get the studio up and running.”
“If you really get hard up for cash,” Victoria said, putting on her huge sunglasses, “you can start charging admission for people to come see the murder floor in your haunted house.”
Victoria laughed at her morbid joke but Jenny didn’t, her stomach twisting at the thought. She pictured an old man bleeding to death in her kitchen, taking his last ragged breaths as he stared up at the woman to whom he’d been married for decades. Jenny’s eyes welled with unexpected tears. Stupid hormones, she thought.
They walked the rest of the way in silence, Victoria turning her face up to bask in the sun while Jenny stared down at the gray, cracked sidewalk.
* * *
Tom followed the pitiful squealing into a part of the basement he had never seen before. It felt odd being down here without immediately visiting the chrysalis—which was the reason he had come downstairs in the first place—but the quiet mewling in the dark had piqued his curiosity.
As he shoved his way through seemingly endless piles of the previous owners’ belongings, which he had been meaning to get rid of for months, he remembered his original plan for the basement: an art studio. He felt his body flush with regret. When was the last time he had painted? When was the last time he had even thought about painting?
He reached the source of the cries … a small squirrel crouched on the floor in the far corner, near the hot-water heater and the furnace.
So that’s where this stuff is, Tom thought, remembering Ray, the house inspector who had called him a fag. It seemed as if that had happened a million years ago, but it still made Tom’s blood boil. He put the memory out of his mind and focused on the animal on the floor in front of him.
The squirrel, which was shivering, didn’t retreat even though a human was looming over it. Tom squatted down for a closer look. The poor little thing’s back legs were twisted at strange angles, and a number of large, deep cuts were visible along its abdomen. Another animal must have gotten hold of it, Tom figured, a neighborhood cat or something. Seeking any refuge it could find, somehow the squirrel had ended up down here.
“Shhhhh,” Tom intoned, trying to comfort the creature. He looked around for something to wrap it in, realizing from the extent of its injuries that the animal probably wouldn’t survive, no matter what he did. Still … maybe if he fed it and let it recuperate? He had to at least try.
Not immediately seeing anything amidst the piles of stuff that would fit the bill, he pulled off his T-shirt and gently swathed the wounded squirrel in it. It lay trembling in his hands, chest heaving. Looking closer, Tom saw that it was young and kind of cute.
“It’s okay, buddy,” he said quietly, carefully heading back toward the stairs. He felt a strange surge of affection for the little creature, its wrapped body nestled against his naked chest. I guess this is what being a dad feels like, he laughed to himself.
Before he reached the steps, the chrysalis’s now-familiar breathing reached him, somehow sounding more urgent than usual, more feverish. The squirrel stirred in Tom’s arms as he abruptly changed direction and made his way through the maze to the pulsating mass stuck to the wall. He’d gotten sloppy about returning the ancient refrigerator to its original spot after his visits, but then again, no one else ever came down here.
He stared at it, head cocked, wondering why it seemed agitated. The squirrel writhed in his grasp, eyes bugging out of its head; he could feel it clawing ineffectually at the fabric in which it was wrapped. Curious to see if the chrysalis would react, Tom held the animal nearer to it. The mass started pulsing faster, and the raspy breathing sound increased.
Without really thinking about it, Tom moved the squirrel even closer to the chrysalis until, at last, its furry little face touched the gooey surface. The mucus flowed up and onto the terrified animal. The squirrel unloaded a horrible shriek and locked its gaze on Tom as the man loosened his grip. Within seconds, the little creature’s entire body was stuck to the chrysalis, and the thing began to envelop it. Tom’s heart pounded in his ears as he watched, his now-empty T-shirt dangling from his fingers. His gaze was riveted on the spectacle before him as more and more of the squirrel vanished inside the dark mass, until it was completely gone.
The whole thing had happened in total silence after the squirrel’s initial shriek of terror. Tom stared at the surface of the thing where the squirrel had been, but there was no indication whatsoever of the death struggle that had just occurred.
Tom slowly put his shirt back on as a rank odor filled his nostrils. Unable to resist, he placed his own hand on the same spot on the chrysalis, half-expecting it to vanish within as well. Instead, the mass shuddered contentedly against his palm. After a few confusing moments where Tom felt nothing, the usual high began to assert itself in his brain.
He closed his eyes, falling up into an unyielding, unending light that consumed him completely.
* * *
A bunch of the salespeople were going out for drinks after work; they practically begged Tom to join them. Kevin threw in a few choice insults to goad the newbie into accepting, but Tom declined politely. He was exhausted, and he loved getting home as early as possible these days. Jenny was really starting to show, and they were pretty sure they had felt a first kick a couple of nights ago.
Regardless, Tom had no real interest in hanging out with a bunch of virtual strangers, even if his best friend was there. He saw plenty of Kevin these days.
If Jenny fell asleep early, which was happening more and more frequently, he could go to Nick’s and hang out with Malcolm and Hannah. His home away from home.
Or, if he was feeling particularly brave, he could continue working on the nursery, which he’d finally gotten up the nerve to tackle a few days earlier. Shopping for a crib had been bad, but actually putting one together was the devil’s work. And he’d heard horror stories about installing a car seat.
Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Tom thought, smiling and looking around the packed commuter train, which had just departed from Penn Station, shooting noisily through the underground tunnel beneath the Hudson River. He didn’t usually make the 5:06, but it wasn’t surprising that the train was standing room only, even in a car without working air-conditioning. People were sweaty and cranky, but Tom was happy—he’d snagged one of the last empty seats.
As the
train exited the tunnel into New Jersey with what felt like a sonic boom, Tom felt strangely detached, as if he were watching his fellow passengers on a movie screen or taking in their painted likenesses at a museum. Even the colors of the train car itself seemed off to him. This kind of thing was happening to him more often these days. An unfortunate side effect of visiting the chrysalis, but totally worth the high he was getting most days.
Everyone looked pretty tired, ready for the weekend, cavernous circles carved beneath their eyes. Summer had ended and autumn was taking over, and people’s melancholy faces seemed to reflect the season.
As Tom continued to scan the train car, his gaze fell on the tall man who’d shoved his knees into Tom’s back on the first day of his job. He had seen the man several times since then but did his best to avoid him. The guy was loud and imposing, and seemed to know almost everyone on any given train or platform, although he was usually the one doing most, if not all, of the talking.
The big man was in rare form today, clutching a giant can of beer partially wrapped in a paper bag and hovering over a pretty, seated woman who was in her early twenties at most. He was talking at the woman, who was clearly trying to ignore him, staring at her phone, her eyes glazed with what seemed to be fear. The loud talker’s crotch was practically in her face. Tom could see a thin spray of beer spittle shooting out of the man’s mouth every time he spoke.
Without realizing what he was doing, Tom stood up and began walking toward them. The aisle was fairly crowded, but he maneuvered himself around annoyed commuters, gaze locked on the tall man. The guy was half leaning down now, clearly enjoying his one-sided conversation. The young woman was definitely terrified, shoulders hunched, leaning away from him. Everyone else in the car was avoiding looking at them, wanting nothing to do with it.
“… gorgeous,” the tall man was saying as Tom drew within earshot. “You don’t want some kid … you need a real man. I’ll show you how it’s done. Over and over again. You know what I mean? Yeah, of course you do.” The woman didn’t respond, just shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
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