Trembling With Fear 7-16-23

Restless, by Jason Fischer

“I know how it sounds, but I can honestly say that in nearly four years, I have never seen my wife sleep.” Stephen looked into the eyes of the psychiatrist, trying to gauge his reaction. There was nothing.

“Where’s all of this coming from, Stephen?”   

“I’ve been watching her every night now. She just lays in bed with a vacant stare.” He wanted to add, lifelessly, but the words would not come out. “Since then, I can’t sleep or think of anything else.” 

“Don’t you think that might be a bit of an overreaction to something that can be proven false?”     

“I can’t prove it to be false.” Stephen looked at his hands. He was squeezing them so tightly his fingertips were nearly white. Embarrassed, he hid them slowly by his sides.   

“Okay, so let’s start at the beginning. When did you first think you saw her staring like that?”           

“It was a little over two weeks ago.” Flexing feeling back into his fingertips, he willed himself to keep talking to the psychiatrist he could ill afford after the birth of his first son. After his wife’s insistence, he agreed to meet with her doctor. Stephen knew he had to get everything out to a man who probably knew more about him than anyone, courtesy of his wife’s weekly sessions.    

After a deep sigh, he continued. “I had to relieve myself in the middle of the night. From the bathroom, if you look in the mirror, you can see the bed. In the dim light, I saw Nancy’s eyes were open, staring directly at the wall. The way she looked… was terrifying.” His foot tapped against the hardwood floor. “It was like she was wearing a clear mask. I called to her. She just kept staring at the wall as if she couldn’t hear, but she had to.” Stephen swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. “She… frightened me so much. I just hopped back into bed, hiding under the covers like a child.” His eye twitched. “I couldn’t stop thinking that her skin was going to feel like plastic if she brushed against me.” Stephen’s voice raised. “As I laid there, the anxiety got more intense.”  

“Stephen, please take a deep breath. Look around. Whatever is going on inside your head right now, try to focus on the here and now. You are safe.” 

“Okay. Sorry, I’m not usually like this, really.” Sweat appeared on his forehead. “No matter what I did, I couldn’t get back to sleep. Every few minutes, I glanced at her. I could see her there… staring. I felt like she knew I was looking, but it was like she was in a trance.” 

“That’s when it came to me. I’ve never once seen her asleep.” Stephen waved his hand in the psychiatrist’s direction. “Please don’t look at me like that. I know how it sounds, but I swear, I’ve never seen her take as much as a short nap. Not even dozing off for a few minutes in front of a boring television show. I mean, it’s crazy right? We’ve been together this long, and I can’t think of her ever sleeping! I’m not saying she never has, but I know I’ve never seen it.”  

Dr. Benetton leaned forward, grabbing his notepad from the table at his side. After scribbling something, he asked, “So all this tension simply because you woke up in the middle of the night and saw her awake? One time?” He gave a forced smile. “The baby is still keeping you guys up during the night, right? How old is he now, four weeks?” He tilted his head to the side as if he was examining Stephen. “I remember those days. Sleep is never sound.” His voice was smooth and calming. “You realize that everything you are describing can be explained as a side effect of sleep deprivation, right? It can make you see things from a distorted perspective.” 

Stephen desperately wanted to believe the doctor. It would explain why every time he checked on his son, he too would lie there, never crying, with those infant eyes that stared blankly from inside the crib. Twitching again, he said desperately, “You got to believe me. It’s more than just lack of sleep.” 

“Stephen let’s narrow our focus. That night, did you ever just slow down and think that you woke her up and she was waiting for you to turn off the bathroom light to go back to sleep? Or that she thought she heard the baby?” 

“Of course! But like I told you, I watched her. She never went back to sleep.”  

“Did you ever consider that it was your imagination filling in what you thought you were seeing?”  

“Yes! That’s why the next night I went to the bathroom and saw the same look. I watched her for twenty minutes. I swear she knew I was watching her.” 

Feeling he was possibly on slippery ground; Stephen kept his voice somewhat calm as he found the courage to say. “I walked up to her and put my finger an inch from her eye.” He looked down at his finger. His breathing picked up and his face felt extremely warm. 

“I stood there…and nothing. She never moved.” He chewed on his bottom lip. “It had to be a dream, right?”    

“Yes.”  

“How can it be the same every night?” 

“Stephen, recurring dreams are quite common.” He quickly added, “Lack of sleep like that can do funny things to you.”  

“How can it feel so real?”  

“Because in a sleep-filled haze you are stumbling around, and your mind is getting the better of you.” He scribbled a quick note. “It might be instructive if you don’t think this is a dream to explain what you think is happening with your wife?”    

Stephen’s eyes darted to the doctor’s notepad. Squinting, he thought he saw sedation or overnight committal. Processing what he read; the words were on the edge of his tongue. “I don’t really know. I just can’t shake the feeling that something larger than us is going on here.” 

Stephen stared at the doctor, looking for some sign he could open up and unburden himself. He desperately wanted to say, I think I’m married to a being that shows its true self when it thinks no one is watching, but he tightened up. He couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling that if he spoke the words aloud, he would cross a barrier from which he could never return. Terrified, he clung to the doctor’s explanation. 

A minute later, the doctor scribbled on a pad and handed him a prescription. “This will help you sleep. Stephen, I’m sorry, but we are out of time, and I simply can’t go over today. I’m going to ask you to please not discuss this with Nancy or anyone else. Go straight home and get a good night’s rest. Even if that means sleeping in another room, I strongly encourage you to do that. I know things are not clear right now, but they will be after some rest.”      

“Are you sure that’s all I need? It all… feels so, so real, doc.” The thought of sleeping under sedation near his wife filled him with dread. 

“Yes. I’m confident of it.” 

After filling the prescription, Stephen returned home. It was silent and dark. Calling out to Nancy, he went to the living room, sat on the couch, and pulled the phone from his pocket. He tapped the app for the baby monitor. His son was silently lying in the crib, his eyes open and unmoving. Quickly, he closed the screen, not wanting to think about the child. Holding the bottle of pills, he knew they weren’t the answer. It was time to speak to his wife directly and get everything out in the open. With trembling fingers, he texted: Where are you? To his right, he heard a ding. 

Her phone was on the side table. Looking up the stairway, he called out tentatively, “Nancy?” He picked up her phone. It was unlocked. He scrolled through her texts. The last one was from the doctor. He knows. 

Suddenly, there was a loud shuffling from behind him. As he turned, Nancy, standing over him, shoved her hand into his mouth, then down his throat, forcing his head against the cushions. He grabbed at her frantically. She was immovable. Panicked, he gulped, trying to scream, making his eyes water and his chest expand. He pulled at her skin. Her flesh was cold and hard. He could no longer take her lifeless stare. Looking away, the last thing Stephen saw was his son slowly walking down the stairs.