Page 38 of The Battery

Leo

T he stairs didn’t make a sound as I crept up them at midnight.

I navigated down the hallway by what scant moonlight shone through distant windows.

One hand traced the chair rail of the wainscoting to keep me from bumping into things.

The door to his room was open and I heard a soft sound emanating from my own room.

There he was. Fast asleep. Four pillows propping him up on the right side of the bed.

His sound machine pumped out a gentle whoosh noise, like wind through a tunnel.

The waning quarter moon gave me just enough light to see him bathed in muted silver.

Hair tussled from sleep. Mouth slightly parted as his night shirt-covered chest rose and fell in a delicate rhythm. Peaceful. Beautiful.

Mine.

Five days had passed since he crept into my bed when I called him. Ever since that initial call, he returned to his own bed. I assumed for comfort. Which meant, because he knew I was coming home tonight from Minnesota, he waited for me in my bed.

The gesture was a sweet one. One I didn’t deserve.

I stopped in the bathroom to brush my teeth and hit the head.

Did all of it with no lights. I was terrified the electric toothbrush would make too much noise, but remembered Cody had a machine to drown that out.

After finishing up, I stripped down to my birthday suit and slipped under the covers on my side.

The movement disturbed him and his sleepy eyes blinked open.

I rotated on my side to face him and ran my fingers along his arm to soothe him.

“Go back to sleep,” I whispered.

There was only partial clarity in his eyes.

I knew sometimes he took a pill to help sleep if he regressed at all in the pain department.

It appeared he had this time. He mumbled something I didn’t understand.

He left me with only one pillow, so I got as close as I could and draped an arm over his waist. He was asleep within seconds.

And I was, too.

I could get used to this , swirled in my head. Round and around. Circling the drain. Repeating itself on an endless loop.