He looked at his watch, thought a moment, and then smiled and nodded to himself. Why was he happy that someone had rung the doorbell? Was he bringing someone else down here? He stood up.
“Just finish eating,” he said, “and don’t make any loud noises, either.” He walked out, closing the door behind him. I heard him run up the stairs.
I listened as hard as I could. If I heard another voice, I decided I would get to that door and that stairway and, with all the strength I had left, scream and scream for help, no matter what.
But I heard no one. Less than a minute later, I heard him coming back down the stairs. He opened the door and stood there with a large carton in his arms, and he was smiling again, smiling as if nothing that displeased him had ever happened.
/> “Federal Express. This was easier to get that way. It’s not exactly something a husband goes to the stores to get for his wife anyway,” he said, crossing over to the table, “even if she is a special woman. It’s addressed to you.”
He pushed everything aside and placed the carton on the table. I saw the name he had created for me, Mrs. Kaylee Cabot. It was from an online clothing store. He took the steak knife and sliced the top so he could open the carton and take out its contents. He lifted them all with both hands and dropped them in front of me. I was confused for a moment. What sort of new clothes were these? He stood there smiling like someone who couldn’t wait to see the reaction to his gift. I lifted the first garment with my good hand. Impatient for my understanding, he seized it and held it up with both his hands. The realization of what it was washed over me like a cold wave in the ocean.
It was a maternity dress.
“It won’t be long now,” he said.
What won’t be long? I wondered. He had not yet raped me. Did he believe I was somehow pregnant? Was this part of his imaginary world?
He dipped his hands into the pile of garments and showed me each one.
“Three different colors, but each one a color you favor, right?”
Did I dare say it? Would I be bringing on my own rape? “But I’m not pregnant,” I said.
“Well, you’re gonna be, ain’tcha?” He folded the dresses and put them back in the carton. “Just a matter of time,” he muttered. “Everything grows better when it’s planned well. I’ll have everything ready way ahead of time. It’ll get so you won’t think of anything else but our child. I told you that, and I believe it. That’s the cure to being selfish, having someone besides yourself who matters more. Ma was never selfish. Of course, men can be. My father proved that in spades, but I swear, I won’t be. No worry about that, Kaylee Cabot. Say,” he said, “you want to keep your middle name? I kinda like it . . . Blossom . . . Kaylee Blossom Cabot. Sounds almost like a song, don’t it? You know what? If we have a girl, maybe we’ll name her Blossom. Whatcha think?”
I didn’t answer.
“Yeah, it’s a little too soon to plan all that. Probably be a boy anyway.”
He closed the carton and brought it to the right corner beside the bed.
“For now, we’ll keep it here,” he announced. “And now, to further celebrate, we’ll have that chocolate cake I promised you.”
He went to the counter and took the cake carefully out of a box. I watched him cut it up with that same meticulous attention to the size of the pieces that he gave to the sandwiches he made for me. He brought the slices over and sat.
“Can’t help liking the name Blossom Cabot, though. Maybe I’ll wish for a girl. Don’t matter to me if my father’s name is kept going with a male child. Yes, sir, time to think about it seriously now.”
“I thought you said that your mother told you a woman in pain won’t have a good baby,” I said.
He nodded and smiled. “You remember Ma’s words? Yeah, sure, but you ain’t gonna be in pain much longer, even with that stupid cut on your hand. Your feet are almost healed, and in less than a week, I’ll have you looking just fine,” he said. “Don’t you worry your little head about it. Dr. Daddy is here. Hey, guess what I’m gonna bring down tomorrow. My crib. That’s right, my own crib. Ma wouldn’t let my father throw it out or sell it or anything. It’s still in my room. I’ll take it apart to get it down and put it back together here. You’ll watch me do it, and you’ll look at it every day and think about our baby crawling around in it. There’s lots more I’m gonna do. I’ve been studying up on what a newborn baby needs.”
He nodded toward the wall on my right.
“I’m gonna build some more shelves over there, shelves just for baby stuff.”
When he was happy and reasonable like this, despite what it suggested for me, I wasn’t as afraid to speak. “Babies need sunshine and fresh air most of all,” I said.
“Oh, sure. By then, I’ll have the backyard fixed up, too. I got lots to do but never before had a good reason to do it. Now I do. We do. So stop your worrying, Kaylee Blossom Cabot. You’re in good hands now.” He started to eat the cake and nodded for me to do the same.
I did.
With every bite, my will to survive and escape inched its return. Why shouldn’t it? I thought as the level of my energy rose. I’m smarter than he is. I can escape. All I have to do is convince myself, and a new plan will come.
He smiled at my enthusiastic eating of the cake. “Want a little more?”
“Yes, please,” I said.
“That’s what I like to hear, more please and thank you. You’re going to change. You’re going to be perfect, a perfect little wife and mother.”