Page 29 of Insidious

“Do you think it’s … depression? The one women have after birth?”

I hesitated, dragging a hand over the back of my neck.

“She’s been … off since that first day in the hospital.” All the things that had been keeping me awake came pouring out. “I thought it was just her recovering, you know? It got a bit better when her parents were here. It was like she was … finally back to being Luna again. Talking a little. Looking at me sometimes.”

I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat. I looked up at the ceiling to keep the tears in.

“But after they left … it just—” I shook my head. “It dipped again. Just got worse and worse, maybe.”

I couldn’t tell her that my decision to ask her to help seemed to have made things worse.

Mum didn’t interrupt this time, didn’t dismiss my concerns like they were nothing. So, I kept going.

“I don’t know if I’m overthinking it, but … I just feel like she was really upset that day. With everything. With Chloe being there and all … She was fine until Chloe came into the room.”

Mum’s expression changed instantly.

“Why would Luna have a problem with that girl?” she cut in, her tone firm, almost defensive. “She’s such a sweet lass.”

I blinked, caught off guard.

“I was coming to see the baby,” she continued, standing a little straighter. “And you know I don’t drive. Chloe just happened to see me hurrying out and offered to bring me. I was excited, Isaac. I wasn’t going to refuse. I just wanted to see my granddaughter. It felt like I had just gone home to get some food, and I missed the birth!”

She shook her head, as if dismissing the idea entirely.

“And Chloe was so happy about the baby. Absolutely thrilled. What was I supposed to do, tell her not to come in?”

Yes, exactly.

I opened my mouth before closing it again. If Mum has a blind spot, it is Chloe. Ever since she moved next door when we were both eight, Mum adopted her as the daughter she didn’t get to have. One of these days, I need to sit her down and explain exactly why we got divorced.

“About Chloe. I just—” I started, unsure even as I said it. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m reading into it, but—”

“I have a friend,” Mum cut in, changing the subject abruptly. “She works in mental health. Let me ask her.”

And just like that, the conversation was over. She got like that every time I said something that didn’t sit right with her.

I nodded, resigned to postponing that conversation. I had enough on my plate.

Like my wife disappearing, piece by piece, while I watched.

***

This morning has been worse. So bad, I almost took a sick day.

She didn’t get out of bed. Not even when Amelie cried.

I change our daughter myself with expert hands, blowing raspberries as Amelie kicks her little legs like a champion sprinter. A knot forms in my throat as I admire how perfect she is, then I carry her back into the bedroom.

“Luna,” I say quietly, nudging the door open with my foot.

She is lying here, just staring at the ceiling. Staring at nothing. Her long, wavy hair, shining like bronze, is spread over the pillow, spilling over the side of the bed. Brilliant green eyes slowly shift to look at me just for a second.

“Hey,” I try again with a smile. “Amelie has been asking for her mum.”

For a moment, nothing. Then, in a slow movement that looks painful, she pushes herself up. I hurry to prop her up with pillows. I carefully place Amelie in Luna’s arms before leaning away. I can’t help but pick up a lock of hair. So beautiful. She flinches.

From me.