The Return
They were staring out the airplane window at dark cloudbanks. It was overcast where they were going.
They wondered if they couldn’t have a baby because of the time they spilled phenol on themselves in the lab or that they drank too much coffee or used cheap shampoo. They weren’t put out by it really, they just had curiosity, wanted to know if it was a trick of genetics or something long-term and poison they’d unwittingly done. They didn’t know what would happen after the plane would land, other than going home, probably, hopefully to the cat and dog, who were hopefully fine. They had difficulty believing their job would still be there, or their partner would keep on going with all this.
For a few minutes they retreated into their usual fantasy of going back, not to their hometown but nearby, and starting a business where land was cheap and the weather was unbearable. That they weren’t the entrepreneurial sort never figured in this line of thought. Perhaps they’d start with a self-directed internship to another country, maybe the Netherlands, to learn the trade and become invincibly skilled.
Really though, was it plastics? Refined flour? If things had worked out as planned, they would be going on maternity leave right about now. They weren’t sure if that was something they were missing or relieved not to be taking, but it would be resolved, this thing would be solved.
At the airport their escort had walked them up to a guardia civil in a relatively normal uniform (they later told their partner they were disappointed not to get a guard with the doll mullet hat), who waved them through to another escort waiting beyond the security checkpoint and took them to a gate that wasn’t listed, through a side door, to a small plane on which they were the only occupants. It was furnished in what looked like some sort of endangered tropical wood and the upholstery had to be new, and nothing smelled, not even the bathroom.
They slept and then watched a movie, without any headphones even, that they and their partner had both wanted to see. They had been given food bags before takeoff, and they ate beautifully prepared meat with angel dew-watered organic vegetables and flaky pastries with water from tinted glass bottles. They arrived far sooner than they expected, but they supposed it was a fast plane, too. A recent model car came to get them and the wordless driver brought them to their house and refused a tip.
It was true, the cat and dog were fine, and they were shocked at the silence of the living room and the funk of their carpeting and of being alone together. Not knowing what else to do, and because it was night, they decided to go to bed, even though they were rested.
The next day the blood came, so much they couldn’t keep up with the pads, changing them every hour and still staining their underwear, their pants. It kept going like that for three more days, and so they called the doctor.
