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Drinking. 1
I told Emily I’d stop hitting the bar. But, when she slept I went anyway. Though I stopped for a month, the habit was too easy to fall back into. It was just down the street. Lawrence and Dave would be there. They were always there. And in recent months, Hien was there too. The music, the smoke, the alcohol – they were inseparable from me.
It was summer, the weather was hot enough to keep me up until two or three in the morning: we were trying to save money by only turning the air conditioner on when we needed to. It was because I needed to cool down that I needed to drink. I convinced myself of this. In the winter, it was because of work and the bouts of silence Emily and I reserved for each other and battled through. It was because we were cold.
Emily slept on her side. She slept with her arms curled about her, both hands together, like praying, jammed against her cheek underneath the pillow. She slept easier than I did and when she did, she slept more deeply while I laid in bed and stared at the ceiling. I was envious and jealous.
Lawrence told me once that the best way to keep yourself from thinking too much and consequently, keeping yourself awake, was to stop caring. “It’s that simple,” he said. So I tried this for a while. To wipe myself clean and blank before I got into bed.
The only thing it did was keep me from writing. And whatever I wrote, laid like dead ink between the pages. My self-confidence was low and I felt like shit. I suffered, but I realized I needed to suffer. I needed to feel like shit to keep my imagination and sanity going. If things were too good with Emily, I might not able to bare it for long and move on.
Tonight wasn’t any different. I pushed the sheets off, careful not to let the linen drag off Emily’s body. It was cooler tonight. I propped myself on my elbow and kissed her forehead. Her skin had always been soft to touch. Now that it was gradually growing coarser month by month, I felt regretful and nostalgic.
We spent a month at her brother’s home in San Francisco last summer. We woke up on Saturday mornings and rode the bikes through Golden Gate Park all the way down to Ocean Beach, on to Sutro Baths and Seal Rock at the north end of the shore. But that was last summer and after each day, I thought less and less about those times. One year felt like an age and those days in June were only alternating periods of sunshine and fog.
I took my shirt off the back of the chair – it was dry – tunneled my arms through the sleeves and buttoned it. I listened to Emily’s breath. I always did. I enjoyed it. It made me full and content, it made feel like a privileged man that I had the chance to witness such an event. When we first married, she asked me if she snored; we didn’t go through the trial of moving in together. We just married. “Kind of,” I said.
“What do you mean kind of.”
“I mean you don’t really.”
She took quick breaths in her sleep that were audible, a staccato of moving air.
I walked down stairs and put my shoes on in the doorway. I walked down the porch, across the yard, pushed the fence gate open and took a left at the street corner.
hello, i am buried inside my blue down comforter
Image by jamelah
I’m fine. And very warm.
Some very useless Jamelah Trivia – Sleep Edition:
1. I tend to build forts out of pillows and blankets in the middle of the night, mainly so I can bury my head.
2. I sleep with my windows open until the danger of freezing to death outweighs the danger of not breathing fresh air.
3. I can’t sleep if my feet are the wrong temperature. Sometimes instead of getting up to put on a pair of socks, I will blast them with warm air from my blow dryer.
4. According to sources who would know better than me, since I am always asleep at the time, I talk in my sleep.
5. I tend to wake up in the middle of the night and have long debates with myself about whether I really want that glass of water of if I really need to go to the bathroom, and I spend so long debating with myself that I could’ve just gotten up and done whatever I needed to do, because I always get up anyway.
6. In the summer on clear nights, I like to get out of bed at around 3 a.m. and sit in the driveway and look at stars.
7. When having my alarm clock beep obnoxiously at me in the morning stopped working for me (I started sleeping through it), I switched over to radio. You know what? NPR does not wake me up. Instead I have weird dreams about what they’re talking about on NPR. Like Milan Kundera in Immortality, except none of these things have inspired a brilliant novel.
8. I think in order to wake up at a respectable hour in the morning, I am just going to have to get someone to physically throw me out of bed every day. Except who am I kidding? I’d just go back to sleep on the floor.
9. When in the vicinity of people who snore, I lie awake for hours plotting murder.
10. I can’t think of another one.
Soft cushion
Image by ccho
After an evening walk in the cold and eating dinner, Cookie would look for a soft cushion to lie down against. His nose was a bit runny and his mucus got all over the couch and stained the suede pillows to which I responded by putting them out of his reach. He decided to use me as a pillow as I did work on the company laptop. Sometimes, when I stopped paying attention to him while sitting on the couch, he would wedge himself between me and the couch and kick me in the back.
Like a cat, Cookie would often fall asleep while I scratched his ears or muzzle and start snoring (rather than purring) contently.