Allen hated to get out of bed.
His alarms had been silenced over and over as he hit the snooze button every
nine minutes from six until eight thirty. The very idea of tossing the covers
off and getting cleaned up; facing the day was nearly more than he could possibly
bear. But he’d do it. He was expected to do it. He knew he had responsibilities
he had to attend. He couldn’t just cocoon himself in the silks of his sheets
and pray the day away. He had to face it. He had to do it.
Carmen struggled to get out of
her bed. Her five thirty wake up time seemed to come earlier and earlier which
each morning. She did it though. She
dragged herself from her bed and started towards the kitchen to get her bowl of
raisin bran and a cup of coffee. The same bowl. The same mug. The same spoon. Washed
after each use and put carefully in the strainer to dry; ready for use the next
morning, and the next. She felt the
weight of it all, but pressed on because she had to. There was no choice. It
was what had to be done.
Ethan made his bed. He tucked in
the corners of the sheets. He fluffed his pillows and placed them against the
ornate headboard. He’d been dressed since six thirty even though he didn’t have
to leave for work until seven thirty. He was whistling along to his “Morning
Jam” satellite radio station. He smiled at his reflection in the mirror. He
combed his hair. He thought he might need a haircut over the weekend but he
wasn’t sure he’d have time. He was taking salsa lessons, going kayaking, going
to a gallery opening and cooking a dinner for five after their trip to see the
symphony in the park. He figured he could just get up a little earlier on
Saturday and get to the barbershop right as it opened. No big deal. It was easy
to do.
Colleen didn’t get out of bed.
The alarm clock continued to buzz as she slept. She was content in her dreams
of luxury apartment living complete with valets and penthouse pool parties and
never ending cocktails. The noise of the alarm just became part of the EDM
soundtrack of her dream. It was so much
better than her job at the coffee shop where she barely made enough to afford
her studio apartment with the fold out sofa bed. She had a college degree in Greek Philosophy
but she wished she’d learned a trade like a plumber or an HV/AC repair person.
Her dream went on and she dove into a crystal infinity pool. It’s what she
wanted to do.
Larry mashed his bed of
newspapers together under his head. The
street noise had kept him up all night. The rain had come in the morning and he
had gotten soaked. He could smell his own mustiness mixed with his body odor and
he felt shame. He’d been someone once. A local weatherman, sometimes sports.
Always ready to jump on whatever assignment he could. Until he started the
cocaine, then the crack, then became a junkie no one would bother to help. He
knew he should get cleaned up. He knew his redemption story was just around the
corner. He just had to score first. He had to do it.
Stevie sat up from the metal bed
in the holding cell. He rubbed the sore spot on his head. He didn’t do
anything. He was just minding his own business. He was just walking home from
his sister’s place when the cops rolled up on him. They said he fit the description
of the guy they were looking for. Stevie didn’t resist. They said he resisted
though and they threw him to the sidewalk and cut his forehead. So he kicked
one of them in the nuts. So they threw him in this cell, onto this metal sheet
they called a bed. It’s what they did.
Jimmy sat on the edge of his
bed. He stared at his sleeping wife as she snored lightly. The sun was coming
up and was dappling her graying hair with morning sunbeams. Jimmy held his
service revolver in his hands. He felt its weight. It was so heavy. He wasn’t
sure he could holster it ever again. He wasn’t sure why his wife was so mad at
him. Why they fought so much last night. She was going to leave him. He didn’t
want that to happen. He wanted to keep her here. He wanted to be together
forever. It’s what he would do.
Sandra got the kids out of bed.
She made them breakfast. She stopped them from fighting over the iPad. She got
them dressed. She got them out the door to school. She got to the store. She
bought the household provisions. She restocked the pantry. She cleaned up after
breakfast. She cleaned the bathroom. She did the laundry. She put it all away.
She paid bills online. She dusted the dining room after noticing just a small
spot she must have missed yesterday when she dusted. She vacuumed. She forgot
to eat lunch. She picked the kids up from school. She took one to soccer, the
other to ballet, the other to swimming. She looked in the mirror for the first
time in three days. She didn’t recognize herself. It’s just what she did.
The bittersweet beds, resting in
silence, saying nothing of the lives they lure into their embrace.
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