Don't say I'm better off dead,He dozed hard. Head thrown back, turned to his right side, face expressionless save for the slight creasing between his eyebrows. Focusing on napping while the house is quiet. I stare up at him. My instructions were not to leave the space I'm in, wrapped up in his right arm while his left dangles over the arm of the couch. He stirs briefly when I reach up and try to flatten the curls on the side of his head. He lifts both arms and settles back to sleep without opening his eyes.
Because heaven's full and hell won't have me.
Won't you make some room in your bed?
Well you could lock me up in your heart,
And throw away the key.
Won't you take me out of my head?
Just a little break, Peanut. Setup's before dinner. Close your eyes, he orders and I ignore that. He always told me I have ants in my pants. I can't sleep during daylight hours. I'm a reverse-vampire. I'm a wingnut. I'm his, he tells me when I can't sleep. Give in to my naps, he cries, laughing. Please God, check out of the afternoon just for a little while, Blondie, so we have enough energy to stay up for the fireworks for once.
(Those were at midnight. They're highly illegal and set off at the opposite end of the parking lot from where the trailers were, no matter what county we were in. If it's your birthday they would come to you a week ahead and ask your favorite color and that would be the only color set off on your special night. Since I'm a spring baby I got to pick first. I asked for pink, naturally. Lochlan went last because his birthday falls after school starts again. He also chose pink, just for me.)
I reach up again and wrap the errant curl around my finger. His hand comes up around my chin and he pulls my face in to his. Again without opening his eyes. Stop it, Bridgie. Sleep.
But I can't. It's two-thirty in the afternoon and there could be things to do but we're not doing them. We're here on the couch. One of us is chasing sheep and the other is chasing raindrops with her eyes as they roll down the windowpanes in endless patterns. Because it's endless rain.
I'm waiting for the bribe. I can count down to it.
Just let me have fifteen more minutes and I'll draw with you.
There it is. Things to look forward to. I like those. We sit up at the island with all the lights blazing and draw caricatures of everyone we've ever met. Then he burns the pages, because some of the drawings are, as we say on the circuit, not nice.
It's like midway voodoo, something you don't ever mess with.
Similar to Lochlan's naps, I guess.