Absence

Three

The "diary room" served multiple purposes. On Sunday nights, it was the place where participants would cast their secret votes appointing the houseguest they wished to see evicted. At any other time, all participants could invoke (or be invoked by) the "Big Brother" to have a one-on-one in the diary room. There, they could ask (or be asked) basic things - either for the show's editing needs (like a testimonial or clarification about something that happened during a party a day before) or for the houseguest's own needs (like a missing personal hygiene item). More complex things - like participants asking to review facts that happened in the house (in their presence or not) - could also be asked, and it was up to the Big Brother to decide if it was interesting to disclose it or not. Basically, it was a place where the producers could talk to a participant without the others in the house listening - but not necessarily without the audience at home seeing.

While some would use Big Brother as either an escape from the confinement of being with 13 other people 24/7 or as a tactical tool to guide their strategy within the game, Maria did not enjoy or see a use for her time in the diary room. At best, she felt silly talking to herself in the mirror and listening to that weird cheesy dark robotic voice coming through the speakers. But mostly, she felt uncomfortable. It was weird not knowing who was on the other side of the speakers, not being able to see their reactions, know their intentions.

Not having someone physically there disturbed her. The ambiance and dynamics of the diary room - where sometimes you would ask something and it would take a while for the producers to reply since they had to check with the higher-ups if they were allowed to - caused her anxiety. Because of this, she would never be the one to ask for a time in the diary room.

But not that day.

Early in the morning, after a night of insomnia, while the rest of the houseguests were still asleep, Maria went inside the diary room and asked if she wasn't due for a medical check-up.

Feeling isolated, Maria had developed an even more intimate bond with her belly. It was with the life form within her womb that she talked and confided most of the day. Its kicks distracted her, its hunger kept her awake, its well-being made her aware; its existence gave her purpose.

So, when she noticed that for the past two days the baby didn't move, didn't seem hungry, didn't make its influence ubiquitous, Maria felt worried and decided to share her concerns with the show's producers.

They hadn't even answered when she hastily followed up:

"I did the math, and-- I don't know, it's been long. Too long, right? The last time I did a full check-up was what? 2 to 3 weeks before entering the house?-- I can't recall for sure. So, yeah... please, I-- Are you there?"

There were a few unnecessary seconds of silence before the feedback sound briefly made way for a metallic pitched-down voice:

"Maria, do not worry. We monitor your heart beats through your Fitbit bracelet."

Maria was waiting for a complement to that phrase, but it seemed that was it. The feedback was cut by a clicking noise and all of a sudden the sound of silence, evidenced by that vacuum that seems to suck your ear out and the white noise coming from the lamps' electricity, was restored to the room.

She didn't know if she should laugh or cry. All she knew is she shouldn't make a scene. Theoretically, what happened in the diary room wasn't part of the show - in fact, it was prohibited in the Big Brother rule book to talk about whatever happened in there. But still, she shouldn't give reasons for the Producers to try and portray her as the hormonal neurotic pregnant lady. She needed to control herself.

"But what about the baby's? The baby's heartbeats. You can't tell that, right?"

The lack of response was upsetting to Maria. Her mind went places. Were they purposedly fucking with her head? Or was there something they knew and she didn't? Is the baby dead and are they not letting her meet the doctor because ratings are at an all-time high so they need to keep the tale going?

"When was my last ultrasound? How many days have I been here?", she insists, sniffing to try and fight tears that start to form inside her eyes.

"Well, we're 3 evictions in."

"Yes, but how many days?! I'm asking how many days I've been here. Can you just please tell me? You have my file, so if you tell me, I can-- I'm just wondering if it's time, you know? Because, there could be something, and I- I just want to know if it's not time for seeing the doctor.", she said at first loudly and firmly, then slowly crumbling her confidence, giving way to fear and caution; completing, almost to herself, barely audible: "I have to take care of my baby."

Maria scratched under her eyes as if she had an itch, but she was trying to quickly dry the tear that escaped her. The voice got back, almost like she didn't say anything:

"We're taking care of the baby. As if it was ours.", the voice paused to make sure Maria understood it. "We can get you a doctor if it makes you feel more comfortable. Is this what you want?"

"Yes. Yes, please." - she said, no longer holding the tear that sprung from her eye. A tear made equal parts of relief and fragility.

"Okay.", the voice said, before complementing: "But your medical check-up was only due 1 eviction and a half from now".