Feeling: stupid
Listening to: Sarah McLachlan - Circle
Reading/Watching: Sword-Sworn

I was thisclose to making this a private entry. But I decided not to be a coward. If this knowledge causes problems, then hell, perhaps the problems were meant to be caused.

When the lights first went out in the motel room and we were still giggling and playing jokes on each other, I thought ruefully, "This is going to be a long night."

I've come to hate being right about such things.

The first time (perhaps around two), I woke because he was having a nightmare. And I can never sit there and just watch it happen, so I reached for him. He somehow clamped my hand under his wrists and I was basically trapped there, my arm around him, so after spending a few minutes thinking of various ways to free myself (I'm a spacious sleeper: if I can't move freely, I don't sleep very well), I gave up and closed my eyes, willing myself to doze off, and maybe I'd be able to roll away later.

I woke again with my back to him, to find him spooned up behind me. Again tried to carefully wriggle away. Again, no luck. Every time I shifted, his arms tightened. Plus, to be perfectly honest, it was rather comfy, and I liked where I was. But I don't really have permission to that kind of comfort, at least not with him... so I took advantage of the rare warmth. Back to sleep.

Third time awake, and we're in trouble. Now I'm on my back, and he's wrapped around me like ivy vines, still fast asleep for all I know, one arm around my waist, one hand in my hair, one leg bent across my thighs. Every time I move, he snuggles in closer, and a wry smile eventually curves my lips, because damn the boy is a tenacious sleeper, and even though most of me knows this is a bad idea, it's so easy to just close my eyes and drift away in his arms.

Until the thought comes, like sudden poison: he is probably dreaming that I'm someone else.

And my eyes fill with tears and I can't take it anymore; I have to get out, have to get up, have to get away, and I jerk out of his hold, out from under the covers, knowing I woke him up, and stumble blindly toward the bathroom as a pretense for my retreat.

I spent a few minutes in there, under the fluorescent lighting, staring at my shadow-eyed face and wanting to scream, "What did you expect? You know better than this. You know better." Wiped at the remnants of mascara on my cheeks and called myself sixteen different kinds of fool.

Came back to bed, and he was on his side of the mattress again, still as stone, his back to me. I meekly lay down, pretending I don't notice how cold the sheets are now, and sleep again.

In the morning we're on our way, and nothing is different. Absolutely nothing changes, like always.

Comments? 0 so far...
Not a Diaryland member? Sign the Guestbook.