Of Another Kind Altogether—PART 5

Marilyn had a busy day planned. It was her “doctor” day, as she was scheduled to see her OBGYN, then the psychiatrist to whom she’d been referred, and after that, blood work. Although she realized none of that applied, she wanted to be a good sport in case someone wanted to commit her.

As it turned out, the OBGYN appointment didn’t happen when the doctor canceled it after Marilyn refused her ultrasound. The obstetrician was in no mood for nonsense after he was already miffed by losing his receptionist for the day, possibly longer.

“I just don’t want anyone observing my baby,” she had told the tech when called back to the sonogram area.

“Why on Earth not?” the tech had asked.

Marilyn only laughed. It was the same as when Dr. Tilden had asked her unborn child why on Earth he didn’t have a name:

“Why on Earth not is because I have not yet been born on Earth, Doctor.”

Marilyn’s gestation was more than merely alien, even if she was the only one who knew this after her mysterious disappearance, investigated as a kidnapping. She also knew that her child was more than just offspring. Her pregnancy was a leap.

Across generations, across space-time—across dimensions.

Marilyn’s son sat in “superposition,” with maturation ensuing as every possible value. He was gestating in potentiality, so any observation would collapse his status—viz., in potentia, ending his infinite possibilities. While Marilyn’s radiologist, Dr. Tilden, had read the first ultrasound at the hospital as a failed pregnancy, Marilyn knew the only way it could fail was if all probabilities would collapse into one actuality.

Her uterus no longer housed just an empty sac. An ultrasound today, if it were to happen, would show something else.

True, Marilyn had had an initial ultrasound, but that was seen—and read—as that “empty sac.” Marilyn now knew enough time had passed where something might show, something might be able to be measured, thus disturbing it and changing it unpredictably and irrevocably. This made an ultrasound unimaginable, invoking antithesis to the reason her pregnancy was there.

In her.

When Marilyn was leaving, the replacement receptionist asked if she wanted to reschedule, but she declined. Once out the door, the obstetrician entered tentatively and addressed the new girl behind the desk.

“Is that the woman who drove off Missy?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“How? What’d she tell her?”

“I don’t know. One lady who was next said she had told her something about her dying or something like that.”

“Do me a favor,” he said, “don’t ever ask her if she wants to reschedule again.”

“If that’s what you want,” the girl replied.

“That’s definitely what I want,” he said sternly.

At the psychiatry wing, Marilyn entered yet another waiting room. When she sat down, across from her—as the only other patient waiting—was none other than Missy, the truant receptionist from the OBGYN office.

“What are you doing here?” Missy asked Marilyn. “Are you stalking me?”

“I was gonna ask you the same thing. Not the stalking part, but why you’re here.”

“Well, whatever. Thanks to you, I’m here because I’m freaking out.”

“And you picked my psychiatrist?”

“I just used the one the doctor refers everyone to.”

“Which is why I’m here. Not to stalk you. This is pretty funny.”

“Y’know what isn’t funny…what isn’t funny is telling someone they’ll die.”

“I didn’t say that. Everyone dies, though. It wouldn’t be breaking news.”

“I’m only 18.”

“So?”

“So, I’m only 18.”

“Listen, Missy, I just thought I’d do you a favor. I know things. Call it part of my condition. But if you had answered that phone you would have died a painful death.”

“When? I mean, how could you say that?”

“Every move we make sets up a cascade. Some diversions end in death, although most end up as just another path to another choice. But eventually, the paths all end somewhere and somehow.”

“I’m sorry I asked. I don’t understand a thing you’re saying. You must be crazy.”

“And here we are, right, Missy?”

“I’m not crazy, Miss Mayer.”

“Call me Marilyn.”

“No.”

“Fine.”

“I’m just freaking out. That’s quite a different thing altogether.”

At this point, a nurse opened the door and asked, “Missy?”

“Don’t go with her, Missy,” Marilyn warned her.

“You’re doing it again? Leave me alone.”

“Don’t go with her.”

“Excuse me,” the nurse asked Marilyn, “who are you?”

“I’m the next appointment,” Marilyn replied.

“The woman who got with the spacemen,” Missy explained, as she rose to approach the woman.

“So I’ve heard,” the nurse said. “But don’t worry, Ma’am, I’ve heard worse and the doctor helped them.” Missy approached her nurse escort.

“Missy, please don’t.”

“Excuse me, Miss Mayer,” Missy snapped, “I have a freakin’ out to straighten out. Good luck with all your own crazy shit.”

Marilyn was alone now in the waiting area, imagining terrible things.

___________

On to Part 6: https://shopping-feedback.today/fiction/of-another-kind-altogether-part-6%3C/a%3E%3C/p%3E%3C/div%3E%3C/div%3E%3C/div%3E%3Cstyle data-emotion-css="1x3zcuc-StoryContent">.css-1x3zcuc-StoryContent{pointer-events:none;}