Surface Level

When I came home and opened the front door, the smell of old diapers and microwaved zucchini mush instantly made me gag. I pressed a finger to my nostrils, kicking a rubber ducky out of my way with an angry squeak before taking my high heels off and poking my head in the living room arch.

Adam was lounged in the loveseat sofa, his feet hanging at the edge by at least five inches. His eyes were halfway closed and so were Sophie's, whose little body laid curled up in Adam's arms. I spotted a vomit stain on Sophie's onesie and grimaced, breathing in through my mouth.

"I thought I asked you to light up scented candles when you changed Sophie's diaper?"

Adam blinked, then glared at me as he fought a yawn. "Guess I was sort of busy with our child on my hands," he said, his voice raspy. "Deepest apologies, Your Highness."

I rolled my eyes. There it was, that damn sarcastic tone of his, not even a minute after I'd stepped through the door. I didn't have any energy to waste on him or his attitude.

"Whatever, Adam. You do you."

He mumbled something in his corner but I ignored it, instead made my way to the kitchen(nette) as I slipped out of my cream-colored blazer. I noticed a package wrapped in brown paper where cracker crumbs and smears of god knows what—I preferred to stay ignorant on that one—littered the counter.

The package was stamped with a purple logo of a blooming flower and the word "INDULGENT" written underneath in an elegant calligraphic font. I frowned, picked it up and turned to Adam in the adjacent room.

"What's this?"

He shushed my raised voice a second before Sophie started crying—an upset hiccup that quickly descended into an unruly crescendo of madness. Adam rose to his feet, rocking her as he stroked her alopecic head.

"Goddamn it, Jen," he spat at me. "I just got her to sleep."

I exhaled a frustrated sigh, throwing a hand in the air. "And how was I supposed to know that?"

It was his turn to ignore me. He did a 180 on his feet, as if he'd rather pretend I wasn't there. It rubbed me the wrong way, and I shook attention back into the brown package, raising my voice by a decibel to make sure I'd be heard over Sophie's sobs.

"You didn't answer my initial question!"

"Jesus Christ, I don't know what it is!" He yelled back, which caused Sophie to cry even louder. I had to resist the urge to cover my ears and was already feeling a headache coming on. "Got delivered to the wrong address—it's meant for Mrs. Lewis downstairs. End of story!"

As he turned his back to me once more to focus on Sophie, which was honestly quite alright with me, I grabbed the package and headed for the bedroom, closing the door behind me and turning on Spotify for a soothing playlist, hoping to drown the polluting noise.

It was a Friday night, and I was meeting the girls at ten. Working a nine-to-six job forty hours a week sure could take a toll on your mental health, and I desperately needed to decompress. It wasn't exactly a secret that Sophie's premature tantrums and Adam's quips were only making it worse, so I made a plan to take a shower, throw in some quality time for myself, and get ready for the club.

But not before taking a peek into that mystery package.

Tying my hair in a high bun, I studied the box, noting the exact way it was taped close if I wanted to return it to Ms. Whoever from the ground floor. I opened it gently, careful not to rip any of the paper, and pulled out a laminated card.

Dearest investor,

Please enjoy this sample box of our latest and most refined products. We hope we'll help turn your self-care routine into something worth remembering.

Much love,

Indulgent ♡

With my interest piqued, I dug into the box, pulling out a series of bottles which made my blood simmer in excitement—exfoliant, bath bombs, moisturizer, lip gloss, mascara, even a sachet of detox tea and a box of vitamin candies.

I squealed to myself, deciding against bringing it back to its designated owner. This box had found its way to me, why not take advantage of it, or, as it so obviously incited me to do, indulge?

With a satisfied curl to my lips, I entered the bathroom and locked the door behind me, running myself an almost unbearably hot bath. An at-home sauna, if you will; a private room of steam where I could pretend nothing else outside these walls existed.

I watched the water turn a pretty shade of pink as the bath bomb fuzzed around me, hoping the aroma of the exfoliant would cover up the lingering stench of the living room. I was pleasantly satisfied. I stayed in for as long as I could without looking like a sun-dried raisin, then blew dried my hair and lathered every inch of my skin in cream. With the newest additions to my cosmetic kit, I applied my make up and tried out a refreshing look, one that had me feeling bold and sassy.

I went back into the bedroom and dedicated precious time to picking out my outfit, then admired my handiwork in the mirror as I popped one of those vitamin candies, letting it melt on my tongue.

By the time I had spicier heels on and was ready to head out, it was well past 9 p.m.. I had nearly forgotten all about the stress of work and the weight of my imperfect family when I grabbed my purse and stepped out, back into the malodorous zone that made me wrinkle my nose.

Adam was seated at the rocking chair, a cloth on his shoulder and Sophie in his arms, suckling on a feeding bottle like her life depended on it.

He took his eyes off the baseball match on the TV when he saw me. His face fell before he scowled.

"Where are you going?"

I had to fight back a sigh. "It's Friday night, Adam. I'm going out with the girls." I slipped a leather jacket over my short skin-tight dress. "Don't wait up."

I didn't think he was going to add anything and was reaching for the doorknob when he suddenly stopped me.

"If you leave now, it's over." I paused, meeting his gaze with a raised brow. "I mean it, Jen. I can't do it anymore, not like this. Neither can Sophie."

His words flew right past me, because that's how volatile and meaningless they were. Adam was always out to trigger a reaction, and I had long learn to dismiss it.

I chuckled, and swung the door opened.

"Don't be so dramatic. I'll be back before morning bells."

I left without sparing another thought.

The night turned out be to be exactly what I needed, especially after such a draining week of work, and that was something Adam didn't (and would probably never) understand. Walking into a room and feeling the opposite sex drool after you, dancing among friends and strangers alike, sweaty bodies touching like nothing else mattered—those were feelings I couldn't live without.

In between tequila shots, the images started getting more and more hazy. I checked my phone, reading 3:06 a.m. and feeling a sudden rush of nausea hit me. I tried to push through it, but after it became too much to handle, I told the girls I was calling it a night and phoned a taxi.

During the cab ride, the sickness only got worse. My stomach was hurting, twisted in abdominal cramps which got increasingly more painful. I had first assumed there was something about tonight's booze that didn't want to stay down, but when my lips began to go numb and my skin began to burn, I knew it wasn't just the alcohol is my system.

When the driver finally pulled up to the apartment, I handed him liquid cash and sprinted inside, nearly folded in half. I clutched my belly until I was in the bathroom, spilling the entire content of my stomach. I was sweating through my clothes and it made me shiver in a way that reminded me of the flu, yet my skin was still on fire. With a shaky hand, I flushed the water down the toilet and trembled to my feet, then turned to the mirror.

The sight made me gasp in horror.

My skin was covered in rashes, as though I had been stung by a hundred bees, while my lips were so swollen, I was sure a needle would pop them as easily as it would a birthday balloon. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I rubbed my eyes dry, only to uncover what would prove to be the poisoned icing on the cake.

A handful of eyelashes had gathered in the palm of my hand.

I choked, examining my reflection even more closely. I pulled lightly—barely—and a few more came off. I rubbed again, my panicked breath quickening, and nearly every single one of my lashes fell right off.

As I witnessed the sight of my naked eyelids and diseased skin, I figured this had to be a nightmare. Yet, cramps still tore through me with worryingly regular stabs, giving me no choice but to face reality.

"Adam!" I cried out, fat tears now flowing on my face harder than on my one year-old's. I stumbled into the bedroom, barely able to articulate my words. "Adam, there's something wrong with me!"

The bed was empty. I blinked, confused, and looked into the bassinet—also empty. I scurried over to the living room.

No one.

The silence in the apartment grew deafening and unbearable. I spun around and searched for the familiar sight of Adam's and Sophie's contrasting shoes by the entrance.

They were gone.

I fell to my knees, rocking no one but myself as I wept.

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Author's note:

Thank you so much for reading! To anyone who enjoyed my storytelling, please consider having a look at my other fiction pieces, Something's Wrong With Mallory, Blink Once For Yes, and Polycarbonate.

Have a great day, wherever you are!