29
Even though I’m groggy from a lack of sleep, the next day work goes smoothly. Ethan and I have been taking turns giving radiology lectures at the noon conferences. We’re making great strides in setting up the radiology exchange program. Only a few more tasks need to be completed before we go back to Columbus. The thought of leaving makes my chest ache ever so slightly. It’s been nice having someone around all the time. Less lonely.
Toward the end of the day, Ethan tells me that he’s going to run some errands before coming back to our apartment. I nod distractedly, focusing on a complex MRI case and only half-listening. Afterward, I realize I should have told him to get more vanilla creamer. I’m almost out.
It feels odd to come home to an empty apartment. I’ve gotten used to a routine with Ethan. Usually, we walk home and change out of our work clothing. Ethan gives me a few moments alone while I catch up on emails or read. He seems to understand that I need some quiet time to reset.
We order dinner or make something simple together. Ethan is a better cook, so I’m his sous-chef and mostly chop vegetables. After dinner, Ethan pretends to fight with me about what to watch on TV until he eventually gives in, and we settle down to see the show I picked. Then it’s off to the bathroom, where Ethan spends an abnormally long time on his teeth, and finally to bed.
Now, barefoot in the kitchen, I busy myself tidying up while I listen for his return. Not much later, the front door opens and closes. I listen as Ethan’s foot falls walk to his bedroom. Thirsty, I go to the refrigerator to pick out a drink.
Ethan comes into the room. He’s changed into the more comfortable T-shirt and athletic shorts that he likes to wear outside the hospital. The shirt hugs the gentle curve of his muscular chest and shoulders. He places a new bottle of my creamer in the refrigerator, reaching past me, his arm gently brushing my shoulder. The heat from his body transfers to mine. His scent of clean soap, laundry, and mint gum washes over me. I’m suddenly aware of how close he is. I could reach out and touch him, press my finger into the cleft in his chin…but I don’t.
“Thanks for getting that,” I say, a bit breathless.
“No problem.” He leans against the closed refrigerator door, only inches away, and gives me his most charming smile. I can’t look away from it. Something in me melts, just a little.
Ethan casually asks, “What do you want for dinner?” There’s a subtle shift in my mind, a resettling in my bones just from those simple words. When you live with someone, that question is as common as breathing. It hits me, what I’ve been ignoring these past few weeks. This is what it feels like to share your day. To let another person in. To let your decisions be influenced by someone else’s wishes and desires. To stop being selfish and instead live a life ruled by compromise.
What do you want for dinner? my mother asks.
What do you want for dinner? Mr. Chen asks.
It’s been so long that I almost forgot what this felt like, this sense of being more than just myself. It makes me catch my breath. There’s a slight tremor in my voice as I answer, “I’m fine with whatever you want.”
We fall into our pattern. Dinner, TV, bedtime.
That’s when I find out the real reason for Ethan’s shopping trip.
I’m in the bathroom, washing my face, when I hear a loud motorlike whooshing. I go to investigate. Ethan’s in the center of his bedroom, kneeling on the ground and overseeing the inflation of an air mattress. As the air blows into it, the mattress unfolds like the petals of a flower. Behind him, there’s a newly opened box that reads “queen air mattresses—superior comfort” on the side.
When he sees me, he stands up and, with a flourish of his arms, says a proud, “Ta-da!”
“What’s this?” I ask suspiciously.
He explains, yelling over the noise of the mattress inflating, “I’m tired of sleeping with my feet hanging off the end of the bed.”
“But we only have a couple more days here.” I raise my hands with my palms to the ceiling in a “what the heck?” gesture.
“I know. I know. I should have bought it earlier, but it didn’t occur to me until now. Figure I can use it whenever I come up here or when I go camping. It’ll be a good investment in the long run.” He’s clearly overjoyed with his purchase, humming happily as he puts clean sheets and blankets on it.
In the bathroom, I finish getting ready for bed. Afterward, I stop by his room to say good night. Ethan’s in his new bed with his shirt off, looking quite comfortable.
“Tiffy.” He hesitates for a fraction of a second and then continues, “Do you want to sleep here? Maybe you won’t have any nightmares. There’s room for us both.” He lifts one corner of the comforter invitingly.
I stiffen, blood rushing to my face. “No. I’m fine in my own bed. Thanks.”
“I promise not to ravish you.” He wiggles his eyebrows in a comedic suggestive way.
It eases my tension and makes me giggle. I sober and shake my head. “No, really. I can’t. Thanks for the offer, though.”
“Okay. Your loss.” Pulling the covers up to his chin, he closes his eyes. “Good night.”
Back in my room, the hallway bathroom light spills golden rays across the floor. Silence from Ethan’s room. I’m guessing he’s already sleeping. How nice it must be to fall asleep like you don’t have a care in the world. Ethan has the restful sleep of an unburdened conscience.
I haven’t slept like that since I was 18.
I toss off my covers, shiver, and then pull them back on. Blinking in the dimly lit room, I practice deep breathing. It seems to take hours, but eventually I tumble into the darkness.
The nightmares find me.
Hiding, running. Not one, but two coffins sink into the ground.
With a start, I jerk upright, the dream sound of sirens still ringing in my ears. My heart thunders in my chest, and sweat cools on my skin. Shadows ooze down the walls. They crawl across the floor, reaching for me with razor claws. If I go back to sleep, I’ll drop right back into that same nightmare. I’ll sink into it like my pockets are filled with rocks and I’ve walked into the surf.
I don’t want to be alone with those terrors. On tip toes, I creep into Ethan’s room, hoping he’s awake. It’s nights like this when we end up on the balcony. But his new bed must be working too well because he’s asleep, lying on his side facing the door. His handsome face is slack and peaceful.
You’re on your own, kid,I tell myself. I’m about to leave when Ethan’s eyes crack open. He stares at me dreamily.
“Sorry. I had a nightmare. It—” I start to explain, but he cuts me off.
“Shhh.…” His long arm reaches out, and his hand beckons. “Come here.”
I pause and take a step out the door, considering. Apprehension, fear, and a need for something I can’t quite define…comfort or companionship, maybe…war within me.
Fear wins.
“I can’t.” My voice is gravelly, a whisper trailing off as I turn to go.
Ethan’s next words stop me in my tracks. They sound a lot like begging. “Please, Tiffy. Please. I’m so tired. We need to sleep.”
Okay. Fine.
But I won’t like it.
With great reluctance, I walk over to the inflatable mattress. Ethan scoots over far to the left side so I can claim my spot on the right. I lay down, and with a wide sweep of his arms Ethan throws the blanket up into the air. It falls, opening like a parachute to settle over both of us.
Turning my back to him, I shrink into myself, timid now that we’re here together. Ethan moves a little closer, and I tense, but he doesn’t touch me. His breath is warm on the back of my neck as he sighs out a sleepy, “Sweet dreams, Tiffy.”
I predict that it will take me a long time to fall asleep with him next to me, but it doesn’t. Within minutes, my eyes flutter shut, and I slide into a deep, dreamless slumber.
Free of monsters.