Le Loup - Family - Neahkahnie
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She had put away all of the dishes after politely tip toeing through the apartment so as not to wake me. I hadn’t been asleep, because earlier that afternoon I had taken a nap that turned into more of a deep sleep that lasted four and a half hours. The couch had proof in the form of a wet dark wet spot near where my face had been pressed against for the entire shut eye experience. The drool, and extra minutes of sleep are always a reminder of how much time I haven’t been spending asleep. My body shuts down and says “thanks a lot asshole I’ll take over from here.” WIthout out knowing it I submit to my body giving up. I had been laying there after waking from a bizarre dream, the kind of dream that lingers when you awake and has you truly believing what had been happening in the dream is real. So I sat there in silence, motionless, except for the movement of my feet rubbing against one another meditatively en route to a numbness that would cause them to stop. The slow journey to full consciousness kept me still and pensive. I bit my lips, peeling the skin from the bottom lip with my teeth until the taste of blood began. A switch to the top lip to peel. The shadows on the ceiling that I was fixated on were interrupted every once in a while by the reflection of light traveling from the cars that passed by down below as they neared the T-intersection stop sign. The light paused with the cars and then disappeared. When I heard her wake I made sure to hold still so as to make it seem like I was still asleep. I wasn’t ready to talk. Shit still seemed to real for that. I felt her poke her head around the door frame to see if I was still asleep. The slow creak of the blonde wooden floors charted her movement. It would have been less quite to move faster, but maybe wouldn’t have seemed as considerate. The sound of the glasses bumping against each other made me smile. She was thirsty. There was only one glass she would drink out of though. It had been a gift, from someone, she would never say who. She claimed that the water tasted best in that glass, and that the others gave off an odor. She compared it to drinking wine and certain beers out of the glasses that had been designed to enhance your experience when properly drinking. This was her water glass. A few more clanks, and then the sound of rushing water. It ran for about half a minute, another peculiar ritual of hers where she checked the temperature with her right hand and splashed the water around. She would rub her thumb against her index finger and middle finger so as to check the texture of the water. Then she would fill her glass, swish it around several times for a rinse, sip to test, and pour the rest out. Before completely filling the glass with the cold tap water she would pause to let out some scorching hot water, and then add a splash to her almost filled up cup. On her way back to her room i would turn to say good morning. The words never made it out. We just looked at each other. Her face had the wrinkles from her pillow on the left side still, and her eyes were blood shot red. The swelling underneath her eyes were evidence that she had spent the last several hours staring at the wall as well. She hadn’t spent it thinking whether or not shit was real. Shit was real. She hadn’t been dreaming. Just quietly lying there motionless letting the pillow get a dark wet spot from the tears, wishing that it had all been a dream. The numbness she was dealt was a different kind.