x.Reunion.x

My little socked-feet, pitter pattering down the cold cement floor, further and further from my own room. My heart beats faster at the voice screaming in my head that I’m running out of time. Was your door the 3rd or the 4th from the end? I hesitate… choosing the wrong one could mean bad results. I pick the one closest and slowly turn the knob. Can’t waste time.

What if he wakes up before I leave again?

I gently push at the door and it doesn’t move.

What if you sleep sound behind the other door?

I push the door harder, using all my weight.

If this isn’t your room I’m going to plead sleepwalking.

The door cracks and I slip inside to total darkness. Standing in one place, I don’t dare breathing as I let my eyes adjust. There’s no turning back now. It smells like sleep and I listen. I can hear you breathe and I know you’re in here. You’re the dark shape huddled in the lower bunk by the window. I’m careful not to tread too heavily. I don’t want to wake him.I don’t want to risk being found out by the other breathing dark figure, curled up and dreaming on the other side of the room.

I learned as a little girl that I could creep into my parents room late at night more softly if I walked toe to heel. That way the monsters from my dreams never heard me. Still barely breathing. Footsteps as light as snowflakes. I feel just like myself 14 years ago. Making my way to your bed so you could save me from my own nightmares. I wonder if my parents are ever sad that I’ve grown up from being their little girl to protect in the middle of the night. I wonder if they ever miss me running to them from my monsters. By no means have I grown up from running from the monsters. But they will never find out about what I’m doing tonight.

I crouch down next to your bed and I watch you sleep for a moment. I feel your breath on my face. Your eyelashes down and mouth set. I’m running out of time. I’m losing you as my blood moves. I crawl up next to you, surprised at my own never-lost skill of staying silent. Your breath catches a moment and your eyelashes flutter open to line your sleepy blue eyes that catch the moonlight streaming from the window. Drowsy, confused, blue eyes illuminated. Shh. I slide into you blankets, so warm, and my little socked-feet greet yours. I press my ear to your chest and I hear your heart beating. Under the blankets I clutch the bracelet on my wrist. You gave it to me the last time I saw you. I’ve made it a habit to play with it when I think about you. Your finger brushes over my lips, then pushes the hair from my face. And then moves to behind me and rest gently in my hair. I realize neither of us have breathed a word and he beautiful thing is that’s not only because we don’t want to wake him up, but because we don’t need a spoken language.

Time slows to a halt. And I don’t know of the three hours of distance between us. They don’t exist now. Or the six hours I have left until they tear you away from me again. And I’m not worried about falling asleep. Deep down I almost hope I do because I’m selfish sometimes. I know with my head I can make you love me by just that, but not with my heart, so I suppose I just wont believe it right now. All I want to worry about is hearing your heartbeat in my ear, and your fingers stroking my hair and how good it feels to close my eyes. I should worry more but I guess I just don’t know my own strength. I wont realize tonight, that tomorrow your veins will hurt with the absence of me.

Rustling. I’m afraid he’s waking up and knows I’m here. But it’s too dark to tell. I’m afraid but I don’t want to leave you. The moonlight is gone. I haven’t stayed long enough for the warmth under the blankets to spread to the tips of my fingers yet. No, don’t make me. For the first time one of us speaks when you say my name. Barely louder than when you breathe. Your fingers leave my hair and I want to pretend I didn’t hear you, You’ll hurt more than I will, I think. Tomorrow you’ll hurt more than me.

I kiss your forehead and know if he wasn’t waking up now he would soon anyway. And what if I had fallen asleep? Leaving behind the warmth of those blankets seemed to let my childhood monsters know I was vulnerable again. Creeping out of the heavy door one last glance behind me lets me know that rain is starting to fall softly outside your window. I pitter pat my way back down the hall and I don’t feel the sharpness I thought I would have in my blood. The warmth from inside your blankets is still with me. And although the rain outside my window has gotten harder and thunder sings from the sky, I still can remember what you feel like next to me at the moment. So I’m okay for tonight.