31. Henry
31
HENRY
I don’t sleep a wink.
This cabin is the most calming environment I’ve known in ages, and I can’t even relax. First off, there was a feather pillow on my bed, which made me sneeze like a madman. But that wasn’t the main problem, nor did it continue to be so. I set the pillow in the hall and tried my best to go to sleep. It shouldn’t have been difficult—the house fell quiet within minutes of everyone retreating to their rooms, but I laid awake in the dark for hours.
Since I hate subjecting myself to torture, I paced around the room and prayed that it would put me to sleep, but all it did was wake my mind up further. So I chose to do something.
I sketched.
And I sketched Amelie.
The regret was instant. I didn’t need to be reminded that I have every part of her face burned into my memory. That I can accurately depict the shape of her, but I’ll never truly capture her air. The way she looks and breathes. My drawing is flat—it’s a pencil sketch and nothing more.
But I know I could do so much more with my paints. And that’s what kept me awake even longer.
I’ve never wanted to paint someone other than her.
That urge had finally left, or at least lessened. It wasn’t constantly on my mind. It wasn’t draining my inspiration as it once had, when I couldn’t find a single other thing I wanted to depict.
And here it is again, showing up at a time where I cannot run from it. Not when she’s in my presence like this.
It’s morning now, barely even dawn, and I’m exhausted. I recall falling asleep somewhere around three, and the clock beside my head reads six. The only reason I’m back awake is because of some random noise downstairs. It’s grating, and it shouldn’t be bothering me right now, but I seem to be acutely aware of my surroundings.
I kick the covers off my body and walk quietly toward my door, wincing as the hinges creak. The room I’m staying in is cozy, though the porcelain doll in the corner is unsettling. Grown man or not, I’ll be dead before dolls don’t scare me.
The hardwood floor is freezing against my feet, but I walk over to the top of the stairs and peer into the living room. What I see isn’t what I expected, though not a shock: Amelie is sitting on the couch with a stuffed animal tucked under her elbow, eyes dead as she flicks through the TV channels. I turn to go back to my room, intent on not disturbing her, but she looks up the second I start to move.
“Hi,” she says, voice cracking. “What are you doing?”
“I didn’t sleep.” Our voices carry easily in this open space, but I still have the urge to go downstairs so I’m not being loud.
“I can tell,” Amelie says, looking me over. I almost laugh, but decide against it when she says, “You look awful.”
“Thank you.”
She barely grins before yawning.
I start down the stairs and take a seat on the cushion opposite of her. She’s staring at the TV again, eyes glued to a cartoon that I’ve never seen in my life. “I didn’t sleep either,” she says. “It was cold.”
“You’re always cold.”
“Doesn’t make it better.” She grabs the remote and mutes her show, then looks over at me. Her eyes fall closed for a moment before she opens them again, staring at the wall behind my head. “I’m going to fall asleep, I think.”
“Why are you even awake?”
She isn’t just awake ; she’s been up for a while, at least longer than I’d suspected. Her hair is half-dried over her shoulders, so I assume she showered, and her face is bare. It’s a privilege, I realize, to see her like this. Calm and relaxed in an environment where we aren’t taking shots at each other.
Amelie yawns. “I’m not sure. My eyes just kept opening. And I didn’t even go to sleep early, so that’s…lovely.” Another yawn, this one enough to send a tear streaming down her cheek. “It’s fine. I’ll take a nap this afternoon. I take lots of naps, and anyways?—”
“Do you want to get breakfast?”
My question comes as a shock, I guess, because Amelie gapes at me like I’ve offered to shave her head. “Breakfast?”
“Yes. The meal you eat in the morning.”
She doesn’t relax. “Like…together? Just us?”
“I don’t see anyone else awake.”
A long pause. “Okay.”
“Yeah?” I tip my head. “You seem reluctant.”
“I am,” she says, and I’d admire the honesty if it weren’t aimed at me. “But I’m also bored and kinda hungry, and we don’t have any frozen waffles.”
Good enough reasoning for me. “Alright. Surely we can find somewhere to eat.”
“I know a place. We used to go there a lot.” Amelie peeks up the stairs, like she’s worried someone is listening. “They might catch wind of this and invite themselves along.”
I stand from the couch and hold out a hand for her. She raises her brows warily, but her mouth threatens to shift into a smile. “C’mon. I’ll pay.”
This gets her attention. She clasps her hand onto mine and pulls herself off the couch, walking right past me without further thought. I bite my tongue when I catch the notes of her perfume, shaking my head as I go to my room. I’m groggy and horribly tired, but not enough to gloss over what’s going on.
Amelie agreed to be alone with me. She didn’t have to; yesterday, it wasn’t a choice. We had to be in my car. But this was a choice. She could’ve said no. And while that shouldn’t matter, especially not to me, it does. It’s a step in the right direction, though I’m not sure that what I’m considering ‘ right’ is really so.
Still, I’m not going to squander this opportunity.
My phone is buzzing itself off the nightstand when I walk into my room. I pick it up, expecting a phone call, but that’s not what I see. Notifications are flooding my screen. I presume they’re in regard to the news about my most recent piece, so I skip past them. The one I click is all the way at the bottom, received at 12:08 last night. I’m shocked I didn’t see it earlier, given my restlessness.
Lizzy
how’s it going???
I find that to be a loaded question.
Fine, I think. Talk later.
Lizzy
OHHH so you’re busy right now
Not exactly.
Lizzy
hmmmm i can take a dismissal! have fun with ames
i know you can’t see me, but i want you to picture me winking as i say that.
Instead of furthering an unprompted, unwanted conversation, I toss my phone aside and get dressed.