1.
She wakes up alone in her bed with Michael nowhere around and for a second or two she thinks it was all a dream. For a moment she is on her own again, in a small bungalow near the beach, one on one with her tiny baby in a white crib she bought second hand. A second is a small period of time but long enough to bring back a sharp pain of grief searing through her heart with the thought of Michael being dead. She even stretches out her hand to the right to touch the crib and her baby in it but instead her hand comes in contact with faintly warm sheet bringing her back to the present and telling her it wasn't a dream – Michael is not dead, he is back, he's here. Well not in the bed anymore but somewhere around the house. Her heart jumps up losing the heavy weight of the grief but her thoughts are gloom nonetheless, seeped with anxiety and worry – if he is not beside her, not holding her close like he did a couple of hours ago when they settled in bed for the night, it means he woke up from a nightmare probably sweating, disoriented and scared, his mind clouded and haunted with something dark from the past. And she was so fast asleep she didn't hear him gasp and wake up breathing hard and trembling.
It means he was too anxious and upset to fall back asleep so he left the bedroom to sit somewhere either outside on the patio or in the kitchen, burying his head in his hands or looking at the skies with a blank stare. He hoped she wouldn't wake up. Because if she would, she'll come find him and it meant sleepless night for her too, and he didn't want that – she had enough sleepless nights on his behalf through the years.
But she is awake and she gets up and walks slowly through the dark hallway to find him sitting at the kitchen table downstairs. He looks sleepy but she knows it's mostly exhaustion and he won't be able to fall asleep any time soon. She steps behind him to put her hands around his shoulders and she is not dispirited when he doesn't turn around to hug her back, doesn't acknowledge her presence at all. She is content with just holding him. Breathing in the familiar warm smell of him. She knows it makes him somewhat content too.
She closes her eyes and a minute passes just like that, then another one and who knows how many else. Finally she kisses his head and lets go of him regretfully to make him a cup of tea. Which he drinks in silence looking mostly down at the table surface in front of him. She gets up and leaves the kitchen for a moment to pick his book and reading glasses (yes he needs them) from the living room table and puts the items in front of him. With another kiss to his head and a light squeeze of his hand she retreats to the bedroom leaving the nightlight on for him in the hallway. She doesn't know if he's going to read or not, what she knows is that if she stays sitting beside him by the table any longer he would berate her in the morning.
Surprisingly, he is usually pretty fit on those next mornings. It's almost as if days and nights are different realities.
2.
She wakes up alone, again, it's almost as if she had some kind of radar that sends a signal to wake her up when Michael is not beside her for more than 5 minutes. Even though she is a deep sleeper, this alarming feeling has her awake in seconds. It reminds her of maternal instinct, when she would wake up minutes before her night alarm with an urge to check up on the baby, if he is awake, fussing, about to scream and demand his feeding. Her mind is still dazed, she stretches her hand to the right – no, no baby crib. It's okay. She is in the present, Mike is 7 and he is sleeping in his own bedroom down the hall, not needing her attention on a regular night. The empty space her hand finds means Michael is awake again, and she needs to find him, make sure he is coping. Offer whatever comfort she is able to give.
He is in the kitchen again. He actually already has his book in front of him so she is not sure what she can offer him other than that stupid tea. He doesn't even like tea that much. But it has become kind of a ritual between them. She doesn't think he is reading. She is pretty sure he is staring at the page blankly with his mind somewhere far away in some place dark. She approaches him from behind and puts her hands on his shoulders. His lifts his head up slowly and he turns to her, grabs her hand and tugs at it slowly, so Sara ends up on his lap. She wraps her arms around him and he drops his head on her shoulder, his forehead is warm and solid against her. He is calm, she notes, his breathing deep and even. Good, she thinks, lightly caressing the skin at the nape of his neck and his head. She loves how his short hair feels against her fingers. It's both soft and prickly. She even loves the grey color of it. She has once asked him about it and he told her it turned grey pretty fast around 2-3 years ago. He let it grow a little and noticed this big patch of grey instead of black. He hastily shaved it off and when the hair grew back pretty much all of it was grey. He actually laughed a little while telling this and she did too. And then she told him she liked how it looked and after that she kissed him and they ended up making love right there on the living room couch, thankfully able to do so as Mike was at a playdate.
She smiled at the memory and kept stroking his head.
The next morning she notices he has finished the book and it was back on its place on the shelf.
3.
She wakes up in her bed to the sound of waves somewhere not too distant. She can smell the salt in the air. Weird. She stretches her hand to the right just to make sure, but there is no crib. She can feel the warmth beside her and it's definitely not that of a tiny baby. Right. It's Michael. Fast asleep (thank God he never snores). There is no baby. There is an almost 8 years old Mike who sleeps in the next room of this comfortable and cozy little house by the beach. They are on vacation, in Mexico.
She climbs out of the bed and steps silently into the kitchen. This place is nothing like her small bungalow in Panama. But still something hurts inside her chest and squeezes her heart just this little. One might think it would have been a good idea to go outside, take a walk by the beach enjoying the empty space and lulling sound of waves. But no, thank you. She is not going to take that walk alone. She is pretty sure a wave of flashbacks is waiting to attack her behind that door, as soon as she dares to step outside. Instead she sits at the table and looks at the bright paintings on the wall.
Quarter of an hour has passed and she is still sitting there motionless. She half-expected Michael to wake up to an empty space beside him and come find her, but nope. He is sleeping like a bear back in the small bedroom. It's a good thing, of course. A good thing that happens more often recently and she is grateful. So she sighs and goes back, passing Mike's room and smiling at his sleeping form sprawled on the bed.
4.
She wakes up startled at the distant sound of a dog barking. Damn it. The stupid dog could wake the baby up. She turns to the right and reaches the small white crib. It's there, the crib. But it's empty, just as the space beside her in the bed. Frowning slightly, she gets up and goes wandering through the house looking for them.
She finds them in the kitchen. Michael is sitting at the table, their tiny son tucked securely in his arms. She sees a book in front of Michael and this time he is actually reading it. In a hushed mesmerizing voice that caresses her ears and tickles the skin on her arms. It's a baby book with big bright pictures and funny short poems. The baby is wide awake, staring at his father's face, fascinated by his voice and mimics.
Somewhere deep inside Sara feels like the world has gone upside down – all those years ago she would be happy in her dreams because it was the time when Michael was beside her, but then she would wake up to a cruel reality where it was only her and her baby son, his father gone and missed dearly. Now her reality is happiness and joy and pride, but sometimes she has those nightmares where Michael is dead, she would sob in her sleep and then Michael would hug her without waking up, mumbling something and she wakes up happy and blissful realizing that he is indeed here.
Michael looks up at her and catches the grin on her sleepy face, his own smile is bright and content and she can't help but wonder how the hell does he look so good and fresh despite being woken up in the middle of the night by a fussing baby demanding immediate attention.
- He didn't feel like sleeping, and since it was too early for his mealtime, I figured he wanted to be entertained.
- Sure, - she replies lightly, - and here I thought I was the one to tend to the baby's needs and you would keep the bed warm.
- I had no idea this was so much fun back then. Have you seen his face? He looks like I'm casting magic here, not just reading a primitive baby book, - says Michael with an amused smile and she laughs. The kid had him wrapped around his tiny finger since day one. Not that she expected anything different.
- Looks like it's him entertaining you, not the other way around, - she is by their side now, stroking the baby's head lightly with her finger and rubbing Michael's arm with another hand.
Sleepy Mike suddenly appears at the kitchen entrance looking at them with a mild surprise: - What are you all doing here? It is not morning yet, is it?
Amazing, Sara thinks lightheartedly, - a family of night owls. She smiles and explains: - Your little brother thought sleeping was boring so he decided to make someone read him books.
- Funny, he is so small and already likes books, just like we all do, - Mike grabs a glass and sits beside his father after pouring himself some water.
- Uh, buddy, don't make yourself too comfortable, drink that and go straight back to bed, you've got school tomorrow, - Sara instructs.
- Not fair. Sam is so much younger and he gets to stay awake so late and I don't?
Michael smiles up at Sara as if saying "The kid has got logic" and turns to his older son: - Okay, next time Sam feels like staying up in the middle of the night I'll keep in mind you volunteered to keep him company.
- No you won't, - Sara interfered bending to pick the baby from Michael's arms, - Sam doesn't have school tomorrow or the next 5 years. That's the difference. And it's time for me to feed him, so I'd appreciate it if you guys went back to your beds and let me deal will the fussy one here.
Mike got up with a sigh and started walking but then turned back and glanced expectantly at Michael, who didn't move a muscle.
- What, you get to stay? This house is full of double standards, folks.
Mike disappeared in the hallway with fake annoyance and Sara looked at Michael pointedly: - Could have at least pretended that you do as I say.
- Come on, you could use some help here.
- Yeah, like what? – she asks undoing top buttons on her nightgown.
- Like.. - He looked around and his gaze landed on a small bookshelf with cookbooks. - Want me to read you something while you're doing it? A lasagna recipe maybe?
- As appealing as the offer is, I'd prefer you busy yourself with making me a cup of tea, - she smiles at him. Something keeping them up at night is not a bad thing anymore.