Wasting time

Charlie sat up in bed. He was incredibly frustrated with his inability to get some damn sleep. He’d gone to bed three hours ago and had been tossing turning the whole time. He was too hot, he was too uncomfortable. He was just thinking too much. He thought about reading for a while but the book he had been thumbing through lately had this graphic rape scene in it and it made him slightly uncomfortable. I mean, it was good writing if it made him feel uncomfortable, but at this point in the night it wasn’t what he needed.

He didn’t want to wake up Mary either. She could probably sleep through a garbage truck smashing though the side of the house, but click on the light and she’d be up and angry. So there was no need to tempt that kind of vicious fate. She had her head buried into the pillows next to Charlie. Her hair was flopped messily over her face.

Charlie laid back and tried to calm himself by listening to Mary’s quite and measured breathing. But her breathing started to get really annoying. It wasn’t the slow steady pace he thought it should be, but a rattling, haggard wheeze. She was so beautiful, but she snored like a monster. She often farted in bed too. Charlie loved her and he supposed he loved her imperfections even more, but right now; suffering through insomnia while she slept peacefully was close to driving him to murder.

The clock on the night stand rolled to 12:48 a.m. and Charlie stared at it. He had to get out of bed at 6:00 a.m. and start getting ready for work. He did the math in his head and thought that if he fell asleep right now he could make it through his busy day without being too tired and worn out. Math was good. It usually could help Charlie drift off to sleep. He didn’t much care for math. Although he was fascinated by big math, like quantum physics and the laws of large numbers or how they figure out certain algebraic calculations, and yet he couldn’t remember how to do long division anymore. It was one of those skills that atrophied right after school because he just never had to use it.

He realized that this train of thought wasn’t working. The math thoughts weren’t putting him to sleep. He rolled over again and put his hand on Mary’s side and felt her lungs and chest move with each peaceful sleepy breath. He was envious of her ability to fall asleep right when her head hit the pillow. He wasn’t sure how she did it. In the six years they’d been married she’d never had a sleepless night. He considered that maybe she was just at peace with herself and most things in her life while his life was a constant cavalcade of potential failure and self depreciation. He wondered what she ever saw in him and more matter of fact, what she was doing with him.  He was pretty sure he didn’t deserve her.

A fire truck revved up their siren on the distant busy street and peeled through the night. Charlie sat up again and rubbed his face with his hands. He saw his shadow on the wall from the bright moonlight outside. He looked at the clock again, 12:52 a.m. and sighed.  He swung his legs off the side of the bed and stood up. He walked to the kitchen and got a glass of milk from the fridge. He sat at the counter and lit a cigarette and slowly drank his milk.