Kyle’s bedtime is 9 P.M.

A little late compared to other babies in our son’s age range, but that’s what’s been working for us. Babies are exhausting, so my wife and I’s bedtime isn’t much later than his.

It sucks because we don’t have much alone time anymore between the baby and my job. I work until late most nights, and when I come back, both of us are too exhausted to do anything, or even be together.

These times have took a toll on our relationship for sure, but that’s how it goes for everybody in a similar situation. “It will all be worth it,” everyone says.

Some days ago, she mentioned to me that she misses the times when it was just us two. Even the dullest moments, like watching TV late at night before going to bed.

That moment when you’re all snuggled up on the couch and half falling asleep, but you don’t want to get up because it’s more comfortable to just lay there than to get ready for bed.

I told her I miss those times too, but that they are simply gone now. Even the faintest sound from the TV wakes our child up, and putting him back to bed is an impossible task every time.

Maybe I should have been more empathetic, nicer. Looking back, I don’t think what she missed was the TV side of things.

To add to that, her father died a few weeks ago. We knew it was coming but it was tough nonetheless.

She took it better than I expected. She told me she went to his house a couple of days ago to pick some things up and came across an old box with some stuff of hers inside. Stuff from her childhood.

She never struggled with post-partum depression, at least I think, and I don’t think what happened tonight has anything to do with it anyway. Things don’t usually go from 0 to 100 like this.

Especially like this.

When I woke up alone in my bed to the sound of the TV in the living room blasting at full volume, I knew something was up.

It looked like Kyle didn’t wake up yet, so I rushed into the living room to turn the TV off before it was too late.

The light coming from the screen was the only one in the room. My wife was sitting in the middle of the couch. It’s her spot when watching TV.

An old silver VCR was hooked to the TV, but I didn’t see immediately what it was playing. I didn’t even know TVs came with ports for them.

I reached for the buttons behind the TV and pressed them until one turned it off. It took me a good 30 seconds, they’re always so hard to reach especially when you need it the most.

“What are you doing? We were watching,” my wife said.

In the dark, her voice didn’t even sound like it came from the couch somehow. It was like every word came from a different part of the apartment.

I reached for the light switch on the same wall where the TV is mounted. They wouldn’t turn on. I thought the bulbs might be fried.

In the faint moonlight seeping through the window curtains, I saw my wife lift her arm and press a button on the remote.

In that short moment the TV was off I forgot how loud the volume was. When it turned back on, I my eardrums exploded. Almost knocked me down to the ground.

I looked at my wife, now clearly illuminated by the light of the TV. She had something in her arms.

She had Kyle with her.

Could be because I was tired, but the sight of my child up at a time he wasn’t supposed to be enraged me.

“What the fuck are you doing Claire?” I shouted.

“Relax, he just wanted to watch some TV,” my wife answered.

“What do you mean he wanted to? Babies don’t just ask you to watch TV in the middle of the night.”

“Leave us alone, it’s just a little bit of TV.”

“He needs to sleep Claire. He’s a baby.”

This felt like a conversation no one should even have in the first place. It’s just how babies work, they have their bedtime and you respect it.

I darted to grab the remote at her side. I grabbed it, pointed it at the TV, and turned it off. I took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

“Come on. Let’s go to bed, now. You’re not thinking straight.”

“No. We’re watching TV tonight.”

Like before, even if I knew how loud the volume of the TV was, it surprised me again. Only this time I couldn’t have predicted it turning on. The remote was in my hand, and my wife never moved from the couch. TVs don’t just turn on by themselves.

I tried to turn it off again but the remote was of no use. “Did the batteries run out just now?” I thought.

Then I saw what they were watching. A kids show with puppets. Like a cheap knock off of a Sesame Street knock off.

It was very old and sort of, foreign? The characters spoke with an accent I found difficult to place. It looked very sketchy and cheap overall, and I didn’t want my son to watch something like this especially after I noticed something else about the characters.

The puppets were made with regular socks, like the one you might have on now, but the eyes, mouth, ears, and every little detail of their bodies were human.

I thought at first that some sick psycho might have carved someone’s eyes out to make these sickening characters, and only wondered a second later about why would my wife even expose this to our child, let alone herself.

It got worse. Looking more closely, I noticed those human parts weren’t stitched or glued on like I thought, but they were the socks’ own eyes, mouth, ears, and nose.

They spawned from their bodies.

They were alive.

It didn’t make sense. Anatomically or logically. Something like that shouldn’t be alive.

Something clearly wasn’t right with my wife.

I didn’t trust her with our baby in her hands, but I needed to be careful. She looked calm, but I had the gut feeling she could snap at any point and hurt him somehow.

Getting my son out of her hands was the number one priority, but I also wanted to make sure I didn’t do anything to escalate the situation.

“You think you could finish it tomorrow? What do you say Claire? During breakfast, maybe?” I asked.

“Why don’t you stay here with us Marcus? Some family time in front of the TV won’t hurt.”

“It’s a little late for that Claire. I have to work tomorrow, and Kyle needs to rest”

“Work, work, work, always work. Come on, it’s a fun show. He loves it.”

It wasn’t and he didn’t. He’s a baby, he doesn’t have taste. He doesn’t even know what is going on.

I needed to do something, and quickly. The way her eyes were fixated on the screen was worrying. Her red eyes told me she didn’t blink once the whole time the TV was on. What if Kyle didn’t either?

“What if I put Kyle to bed and we got some alone time? Like you were telling me the other day.”

“It would be lovely, but we can’t, remember? The sound of the TV would wake him up, and on the other hand, if he’s already up…”

Then she laughed. A new character popped up on screen.

“That’s my favorite one,” she said, “he’s so goofy.”

A red sock, with one loose eye hanging by its optic nerve, and with long dark hair growing directly from the fabric of the sock. He moved a bit more erratically, probably because it couldn’t see and was in this excruciating but cartoonish pain.

“That’s it,” I said.

I moved to take Kyle from my wife’s arms.

She pulled my son away and for the first time took her eyes off the screen and turned to look directly into mines.

“Touch him and I kill him.”

I stepped back. Even if I knew she wasn’t alright right now, it still caught me off guard.

She kept looking at me as if she was waiting for an answer.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

It worked. She took her eyes off me and went back to watching the show. Went back to laughing at his favorite character.

I kept looking at her as she laughed at a gag. I couldn’t believe my wife said something like this, this wasn’t her.

I needed to get Kyle out of her hands, but how?

Before I could think of anything I heard something.

Cries.

Kyle’s cries.

Not from the couch where he was, but from somewhere else in the apartment.

I ran into his room, and there he was. Inside his crib. Exactly where I left him earlier. I closed the door so that the sound of the TV wouldn’t be so loud in here.

I picked him up and held him as he cried.

I tried to rock him back to sleep. It took a little bit but eventually he calmed down and fell asleep again.

But now I can’t go to sleep, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do it again.

Certainly not tonight.

I don’t know what is watching TV with my wife.