April 26th: A Quiet Night
.
Wordsmith Wednesday – Somnambulism – "Walking in one's sleep or under hypnosis."
.
Emily hated the night times. They'd been fun again recently, as she adjusted the triplets to their brand-new toddler beds, but now that that was over and Spencer was away on cases, she hated the loneliness of them. Curled on the couch in the living room with a blanket on her knees and a book laid aside, she tapped anxiously at her phone and tried not to feel out of place.
To Spencer: I think I should go back to work soon. I'm sure we can find someone willing to live in with the kids. Au paire?
And she sat in silence, alone but for the ticking of a clock in the kitchen, waiting for a reply. Feeling stopped, stolen. Like she was doing nothing when she should be out there, and Spencer had quietly told her she'd never take to staying at home full time, but had she listened?
She refused to resent her kids for it, and so she was waiting for Spencer to send back the inevitable can we afford that? so she could take all this pent-up frustration out on him instead.
The reply finally came—she pretended that she hadn't spent every minute of waiting imagining him under the barrel of a gun again.
Spencer: I think that's a good idea. It doesn't feel right without you here.
Oh. She curled a little closer and smiled at the text on the phone, feeling as silly and giddy as she had so many years ago when he'd slipped a ring on her finger and declared himself hers.
A stair creaked. Soft footsteps. She looked up and around as Tristan wobbled in, still unsteady on his feet and with his eyes glazed.
"Trissy?" she said, putting her phone down and sitting upright, but he ignored her and toddled right on past. She caught his hand. "Baby, hey. Hey. Shh, come here."
But he tugged, stopped, looked at her, and then wordlessly climbed up into her lap, curled up close, and began breathing deeply. She blinked, folding her hands over him and staring down at her ruffle-haired son. Then she frowned.
To Spencer: Did you ever sleepwalk?
"I should put you back to bed," she said to Tristan while waiting for a reply, but he was warm and peaceful and a small part of her pointed out going back to work means you'll miss this, so instead she leaned back and tucked the blanket around him, holding her boy close to her heart with his hands curled against her chest. "I'll do it soon."
Spencer: Yes, why? When I was little.
She didn't reply, just smiled and leaned her head against the sweet-smelling hair under her chin. Closing her eyes and savouring this. They'd probably have to baby-gate the stairs, check the windows for locks, sleepwalk proof…
…she woke slowly, once, to lips against her forehead and a deep, sleep-rough voice murmuring, "I'm home, love, come on. Come to bed," and then she woke again in her own bed in his arms.
"Tris sleepwalks," she mumbled. He chuckled against her back.
"Interesting," Spencer replied, and then she was asleep again.