Absence

Four

The doctor came that very day. While the appointment was very awkward, with the doctor using a branded mask (because since no participant could have contact with the outside world, a reaction/expression could give away something), the baby was clinically fine, and, for a while, so was Maria.

Knowing the baby was well gave her strength, going through 4 evictions without being nominated gave her confidence: Maria became the head of the household after winning a trial in which participants had to "true or false" facts that were happening outside in the real world. True or false Kobe Bryant died in a helicopter crash? True or false a virus is quickly spreading and locking down whole countries? True or False the Patriots won another Superbowl? She won by testing the most insane theories. Life has a way to mirror our dramas and comment on our expectations.

Having the responsibility of possibly sending someone home brought back all of the stress. Maria isolated herself. When the time came for her to choose which participants she would invite for movie night at the head of the household's room, she declined the privilege. Asked the producers if she could watch it by herself.

The minute Big Brother announced on Maria's behalf that no participants would go to the head of the household's room because she didn't want to be unfair to anyone, she regretted it. Shouldn't I at least be the one to tell them? Will they all think I'm an asshole, or worse, a fake, populist person? Is this hurting my chances not only here with them but my image with the audience outside? Should I go out there and explain myself to them? No; that would make me look crazy, or worse weak.

Maria felt ambushed by her own thoughts and chased by other's opinions. Her instincts made her search for curtains; however they saw her - self-assured or not - she needed protection against participants outside looking in. The curtains were never found because there was no need for it; the windows were tinted. And she knew that but was too overwhelmed to remember.

Hyperventilating, she decided to cover herself with the duvet. Her hands tightly grabbed the ends of the cover, pulling it over her head, forming a cocoon of privacy and protection. It was ironic she resorted to the fetal position, with a baby already inside her. A womb within a womb. Two in need of care.

Her breath against the fabric brought warmth, the ironed smell of it distracted her. Gradually, her mind slowed down, and her body receded into a calm sleep.

Only to wake up a few hours later.

As soon as she realized she was awake - eyes still closed - she knew that was it. It was time.

She never expected to be so wet. There were fluids everywhere. The sheets were cold from so much moisture. Should it be cold? The thought of her water breaking long enough for the sheets to be cold - when they could be cold just because the air conditioning is always set to freezing-cold due to the number of cameras and heat-sensitive equipment - put Maria in survival mode.

She never said a word. Just got up, leaned against the door fearing she would fall if she didn't, reached the doorknob. Her hands, wet from the fluids she'd just felt, lacked the necessary grip to turn the rounded knob.

4 seconds, 2 tries, 36 heartbeats in, she finally manages to open the door.

Smoking his cigarettes alone outside, Ryan sees Maria stumble through the yard on her way to the house:

"Yo, Mami... hey-- are you okay? Maria?"

Maria's knees fail her, as she falls face down on the floor.