Demons and Other Inconveniences

  *****

  Credits rolled and heavy metal music blared. The theater’s house lights came up and the entire audience spewed out a groan of unison relief.

  “Pop?”

  “Yeah, son?”

  “Do you think there’s really … people … out there? People like him? Like Jack?”

  The grown vampire looked at his young son whose tiny fangs bit into his lower lip in fearful anticipation.

  “No. It’s just pretend. A movie. Don’t worry, people aren’t real. Besides, if your mother finds out you’re scared of humans, she won’t let me take you to any more horror pictures.”

  A teenage zombie in the other aisle scoffed to his friends, “Braaaaaaiiins…Seriously, who says that? Who ever said that?”

  Four other zombie teens laughed and shook their heads in agreement.

  The vampire steered his little bloodsucker through a mixed crowd of undead and other creatures and out to the parking lot, hoping to be home before the sun rose.

  ..ooOOoo..

  THE FRANK DIARY OF ANNE

  A face only a mother could love. All babies are beautiful. I know this is my child and I’m biased, but I still think…

  SEPTEMBER 18TH, 2001

   

  I have a son. Fourteen hours of labor gave me a twenty one inch, seven pound, eleven ounce, lovely blue eyed boy with the cutest little toes. He was born yesterday and is healthy and I love him. I love him beyond love. I’ll call him Michael and one day, he’ll call me Mom.

  Imagine.

  I’m very tired but the doctors say both he and I are doing well. Unless there are complications, we get to go home tomorrow.

   

  9-18

  He is so sweet, looks just like his father and smells so good. I love the way babies smell, so fresh and clean, like powder. He nurses easily and often and the staff has been great. The small blue and pink striped blanket and blue hat make a handsome outfit. So much wonder. So much love. I can’t stop staring at him. My mother used to talk of babies and how I would never know true love until I had my own. Now I know. I wish she was here to see him. I miss you, Mom.

  He’s sleeping now. So peaceful and I just can’t stop watching him. I think he’s actually changed, just since yesterday. And he already has a tooth poking through which is keeping me quite sore. Doctor says that it’s not uncommon and he is more than worth the small irritation. If I have to, I can pump and feed him from a bottle.

   

  SEPTEMBER 19TH, 2001

  A clean bill of health for mommy and Michael! That means I can take my baby home. The stitches itch terribly, but I have medicines for that and it should heal quickly enough. The car seat checked out and my friend Sarah came to drive me home with the little prince. I have so many diapers and blankets and tiny outfits. So many people have been generous with gifts. Lotions and binky’s and little pajamas.

  I’m so grateful because I’m broke right now. I’d hoped to be better prepared at twenty-eight-years-old for the birth of my first child. A father would help. Not his father…Lord no, but someone. His father has been missing-in-action ever since that weekend. I loved him so. I know it sounds immature to claim to have loved a man after knowing him only three days, but he was so different. Something so magnetic—so magical—about him.

  My wheelchair is here and my little bundle is waking up, time to take sweet Michael home.

   

  SEPTEMBER 22ND, 2001

  The first few days have been so much work! How does anyone make this a routine work? I didn’t realize how helpful the hospital staff had been or how tired I would be. He drains me and I can’t seem to eat enough to keep up with his appetite. I’d swear little Michael has gained a pound or more since we came home. It has only been a couple days. He looks bigger. It might be the exhaustion playing tricks on me.

  He whimpers so sweetly when he needs me. Not a full on cry, just a pitiful little whimper. It tingles in my soul and I’m drawn to him.

   

  SEPTEMBER 28TH, 2001

  Sarah offered to spend this weekend with me so I might get some rest. She said I sounded awful on the phone and like I could use a little break. Just a nap would be enough I think. His demand for my milk is insatiable. He eats constantly and has gotten strong. His nails are thick, not paper thin like most babies. They dig into my flesh and he now has several sharp teeth that have poked through. I’ve started pumping because he’s cut me and kept my breasts raw and sore. I might have to supplement with formula or switch altogether.

  I think I saw him roll over this morning.

  Is that possible?

  I need to call the doctor. Nothing seems wrong with him, really. If anything, he’s just advanced. I fear he is more like his father than I suspected. I had hoped it wasn’t contagious or genetic, whatever the case may be. Such a handsome, strong man. So intoxicating.

   

  SEPTEMBER 29TH, 2001

  Sarah left in a rush this morning. She wished me well, but rushed out nonetheless babbling about some appointment she’d forgotten. She seemed so nervous. I think she was undecided about my sweet angel. I love her dearly, but he is not for her to understand. He is for me to understand. To love. When she has a child of her own, she’ll know this feeling.

  9-29

  It was a struggle to trim his nails today. They had begun to curl together, like an animal’s nails. I called my older sister. She said she would sometimes chew my niece’s nails because they were paper-thin and it was safer than trying to clip them. Wiggly fingers and all that. I tried and couldn’t even bite through Michael’s. The clippers had trouble as well, but I got them done.

  I counted eleven teeth this morning and the canines seemed quite pronounced and sharp. The liquid diet hasn’t been enough. Maybe cereal will fill his belly. I have to devote all of my time to him without anyone’s help. He’s just so active. My sister is so far away…I miss family.

  He still whimpers when he needs me. It’s so precious.

   

  OCTOBER 24TH, 2001

  This is the first chance I’ve had in some time to sit down in peace to write. Michael is sleeping. He’s curled up in his crib and snoring. My sweet baby. Since my last entry, he has upped his food intake to include cereal. I stopped to make a hamburger and he screamed until I gave him a bite. He preferred the meat to everything else.

  I’ve been alone with him now for more than three weeks and I think everything is going fine. I do wish some of my friends would visit or that I might get out to see my sister. She would understand. I want to share him with the world, but I’m so weak I can’t even take him outside. I finally reached Sarah on the phone this morning and she said she would try and stop by on Saturday. I hear him whining again, can he be hungry again so soon?

   

  OCTOBER 27TH, 2001

  Michael surprised me today. I mentioned he was crawling, right? It’s only been about six weeks, but he is crawling and he is such a big, strong boy. Sarah did stop by and was shocked, but she was kind enough to sit down for a few moments. I keep mittens on him now to stop him from scratching himself, from scratching me.

  The house is a wreck.

  She expressed some concern at his eating solid foods but her worries were quickly dispelled when he crawled up to sniff her ankles and then her knees. He seemed particularly taken with her. I let her feed him his morning bottle but neglected his protein until after she left. She wouldn’t understand and it was so nice to have company. We’re not hurting anyone and I have so little energy. She left while he was down for his nap, seeming nervous again. She urged me to call the doctor. I don’t know why. I’m so happy to have my baby and he is growing so fast.

   

  NOVEMBER 2ND, 2001

  The doctor’s office called this morning asking about our health. Apparently, I missed our one month well-child checkup. I assured the nurse everything was fine while biting my tongue. I wondered if Sarah had called them.

  I had to put
my hand over the phone to tell Michael to stop scratching himself. He pulled his diaper off. Maybe he has worms from the raw hamburger. He won’t eat it anymore if I cook it. I tried boiled chicken and he spit it at me and growled. Growled! Can you imagine?

  I have some left over medicine from the vet. I had a dog once, a lab named Ginger. She was just too much for me to handle, so I tried sedatives in her food to calm her. She lay around like a slug and I felt terrible, so I had to give her away once I got to the third trimester. She deserved a better home, and I needed to focus on my boy.

  I just can’t bear to throw anything away, so I kept her medicine and some of her toys.

  Now I just have to figure out dosage. I need to weigh Michael. I know I shouldn’t medicate him, but if I take him to the doctor, they’ll want to run tests. They’ll take him from me and I can’t let that happen. He is mine.

   

  NOVEMBER 5TH, 2001

  I gave Michael some drugs today. I just guessed at the amount and it was enough to put him to sleep. I bought a scale at the drug store to weigh myself. It’s the only place within walking distance. He was still asleep when I got home. I felt so guilty for leaving him that I swore to myself I would never do it again.

  The scale says I am ninety-six pounds. Michael is so demanding of my milk and my time. It sickens me to look in the mirror at my body. I’m five-foot-nine and I was one-hundred-thirty pounds when I got pregnant. It just has to be wrong. No wonder the clerk looked at me so strangely.

  I held him and got back on the scale. One-hundred-twenty-seven pounds. That would make him 31 pounds. Can that be correct? He’s so big to be only seven weeks old. I feel like he should be talking already because he’s so advanced in growth and motor skills, but we communicate through grunts and cooing. He’s so powerful.

  11-5

  My groceries are now delivered. The boy gives me odd, disapproving looks when I order fifteen to twenty pounds of meat per week, but Michael is ravenous. I’m starting to worry and I’m feeling very weak again. Sarah won’t return my calls and I have no one else to ask for help.

  Internet searches for his father turned up an obituary. Shot to death not long after we…met. I feel terrible for my anger toward him. I love him. I see him in our son.

   

  NOVEMBER 28TH, 2001

  Thanksgiving came and went and I didn’t even realize it. Days are a blur. I ordered a side of beef and filled my refrigerator and freezer with it. Then I switched grocery stores because the probing stares from the delivery folks were becoming too much. I’ve stopped giving Michael any formula or breast milk. My body won’t produce anymore. I’m just so tired all the time. He’s close to seventy pounds now.

  Last I checked I weighed ninety-one.

  It was all I could do to lift him to weigh us both so the numbers might not be accurate.

  I’ve never seen muscle tone like this on a baby. He moves with such grace and power. He snapped at me today as I was feeding him. It was as if he was crazed for the meat and couldn’t tell where steak stopped and I began.

  Michael reminds me so much of his father—God rest his soul. He mentioned something about a change of appetites that weekend. I had tooth marks on my shoulder and I feel sure I remember him licking blood from the wound. It was all very exciting and passionate at the time, but now I see clearly. There is a word for his kind. A word for our son.

   

  DECEMBER . 1ST or 2ND, 2001

  Michael is uncontrollable. I’m not sure how long I’ve been locked in this room. Two days…maybe three? I managed to reach the refrigerator and pulled out all the meat that was left before I locked myself in here. He nipped at me the whole time and with one bite, he drew blood. It excited him.

  The last of the hamburger and steak seemed to satisfy him temporarily but now he’s clawing at the door and whining like he was a baby again. I know he’s only a couple months old, but he’s no baby. Not anymore.

  It hurts my soul to ignore the cries, but he might attack and I don’t trust him. I don’t know what else I can do.

  DECEMBER

  He’s chewing on the door. It sounded like he was throwing furniture against it and howling earlier. The terrible crashing sounds kept me awake half the night and didn’t stop until the door cracked. The heavy solid wood protected me as long as it could, I suppose. I can see his bloody teeth and claws chewing and scratching at the break in the lumber. It won’t be long now.

  Mommy loves you, Michael. I will love you forever.