Member-only story
Sleepless Girls and Bitter Pills
I wanted her everything, but she gave me nothing.
Darling, you’re not sleeping again. Why aren’t you sleeping?
Second pass. Then she stares out the window as dawn begins to peek through the parted curtains. Soon I’ll have to get up and get ready for the day, showering and shaving and picking out clothes before I stir into the tumble of another day out in the world that exists outside our careful bubble. But she? She will probably stay in bed, lost in her cocoon of blankets, till I come back home and rouse her for dinner — probably take-out, given the dislike we have for our own bland ways of cooking. It’s always this way.
I don’t know, she says, her eyes bleary and a tad bloodshot as she continues to gaze through that one slice of the outside world that’s invading our space. Maybe that’s why she stares. Maybe she wants to banish that piece of the world that is intruding upon our quiet interlude. Maybe I’m scared of something.
A little laugh shivers through me. Scared of what? Me leaving you again?
I catch her hand in mine and press a kiss to the inside of her wrist. Never. I’m not going anywhere. You’re wearing my ring, remember? For keeps. Always for keeps.
