A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood - Part 3

I realized I didn’t know much about Maggie and Rob.

I needed to learn fast, if only enough to pass.

I had only glimpsed them through the narrow lens of neighborhood acquaintances, occasional nods and waves and small talk over fences. What did they do on weekends? Where did they go for vacations? What did they fight about when no one else could hear?

The thought of stepping into their lives, of moving seamlessly into Maggie's world, was terrifying.

I opened the medicine cabinet and took quick stock. Slimline bottles of vitamins, moisturizer. My eyes caught on a small box of Plan B. I felt a twinge of panic and tried to ignore it. In the drawer below were bobby pins, a hair dryer, and a tangle of makeup. I touched the tubes of mascara and lip gloss.

I was interrupted by a crying baby.

The sound pierced through the wall with growing insistence. I froze, listening. Rob's footsteps moved down the hall, and I heard him cooing softly. For a moment, I felt rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the realization that there was a baby in this house, in Maggie's house. My God. I didn't even know they had a kid. How had I missed that? 

Maggie would go. She was the baby’s mother.

I took a deep breath, opened the door, and followed the sound down the hall. Each step filled me with dread. There was a nursery, brightly painted, a mobile of stars and planets spinning lazily above a crib. Rob was already lifting the baby out, a boy, small and squalling. 

I watched, helpless and awkward, as Rob comforted the child. He glanced over his shoulder at me. 

"Think he's hungry," he said, with a tired smile, "Can you get him?" 

Get him? Did he mean—oh God. He expected me to feed the baby. I hesitated, my mind racing for an excuse, but came up empty.

"Sure," I said, my voice uncertain.

I sat down on a nearby chair.

Rob handed me the baby, and I awkwardly cradled him. He felt fragile, incredibly light, and immediately began rooting against my chest. I felt a wave of panic at the realization of what I was supposed to do. I wasn't prepared for this. I wasn't prepared for any of this.

I watched as Rob left the room, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, his trust in me—Maggie—total. 

The door clicked shut, and I was alone with the baby. He was wriggling, impatient, his tiny fists kneading against me. I fumbled with the strap of my tank top, my heart thudding in my ears. This was something I had never imagined, never expected.

I finally got the fabric out of the way and brought him to my breast. He latched on instantly, and I gasped at the suddenness of it, at the strange, intense pull.

“Oh, fuck,” I whispered, the words barely audible.

I had never felt anything like it. It was intimate, primal, and so extraordinarily real. The baby suckled greedily, and I watched his tiny face, the wisps of his hair. Part of me reeled with disorientation, while another part, to my shame, felt a profound and unexpected satisfaction. I was doing it. I was in Maggie’s body, and I was doing it.

I adjusted my hold on him, finding a more comfortable position. As he fed, I felt myself sink deeper into the reality of the situation. He was warm and new, and utterly dependent. I was his mother now. The thought both terrified and exhilarated me.

I had wished to be Maggie, but I had never considered just how much being her would mean.

In the quiet of the nursery, I let myself breathe, let myself feel. I was in the heart of Maggie's life, in the core of her existence. What would it take to stay here? Could I ever accept losing everything else that had once been mine?

But what did it mean, now that this was mine?

The baby finished, his small mouth releasing, and I adjusted my top. He was asleep already. I watched him, cradled against me, his breaths soft and even.

Carefully, I eased him back into the crib, adjusting the blanket around him.

I waited until I was sure he was settled, then crept back down the hall to the bedroom. Rob was already asleep again, his back turned, a soft snore escaping from his slightly open mouth. I stood in the doorway, unsure. Should I try to sleep too? Hope that I'd wake up as Alan?

I slipped back into bed, careful not to disturb Rob. The sheets were still warm from where I'd been lying. I stared at the ceiling, my mind racing with questions.

What would happen when morning came? Would I have to go through an entire day pretending to be Maggie? How long would this last? Forever?

The thought made my chest tighten. I had a life—a wife, children who needed me. Would they think I'd abandoned them? Would they even know I was gone, or was there some version of me still there, going through the motions?

And Maggie—where was she in all this? Was she trapped in my body, equally confused and terrified? Or was she simply... gone?

I turned on my side, facing away from Rob, and cried myself to sleep.