Mary Huxley Tapes – LOG 0001
Date:  1987-06-14
Location: Huxley Residence, Living Room
Subject: Mary Huxley

[Tape begins. A soft click, the sound of a cassette spinning. Mary’s voice is calm but weary, background noise of a ticking clock and faint movement of children playing elsewhere in the house.]

Mary Huxley:
It’s… late again. I thought maybe talking this out on tape would help, at least keep me from bottling it all up.

Taking care of the kids has been… overwhelming lately. Don’t get me wrong—I love them more than anything, but it’s like my life split in two. One half wants to stay the detective, to still chase the cases, the mysteries, to keep proving myself. And the other half… is here, in this house, picking up toys and making sure dinner isn’t burnt.

When I first got with him—my childhood friend, partner on all those early cases—it felt good. Natural, easy. We’d solved so much together, I thought maybe life could just… keep working out like that. But when I accidentally had my first child in 1970, I knew everything was going to change. I didn’t stop, though. I kept pushing, working cases, even when the stress ate me alive. Then came the others. Three kids before I even realized how fast time was moving.

[She sighs, the sound of a chair creaking as she leans back.]

And I can feel the stress breaking me down some nights. I’ve started taking pills to sleep—something Dr. Rate gave me after Gayifier basically shoved me into his office. “He’s the best, Mary. Don’t fight me on this.” That’s what he said. And maybe he was right. It helps. Some nights. But it doesn’t take away the worry that I’m… slipping. That I can’t balance all this forever.

[There’s a pause, the faint sound of a door creaking open. Small footsteps approach.]

Child’s Voice (soft, young):
Mommy?

Mary Huxley: (laughs quietly, voice softens) Hey there, sweetheart. What are you doing up?

Child:

I wanted a hug, mommy.

[small shuffle, then the faint sound of arms wrapping around. Mary’s voice catches slightly, gentler now.]

Mary Huxley:

Come here, then. …You always know when I need one, don’t you?

[There’s a long pause where the only sound is the child’s breathing and Mary’s faint hum.]

Mary Huxley:

Alright. I think that’s enough tape for tonight. Time to spend time with them—before they grow up faster than I can blink.

[Click. Tape ends.]