Thanks for reading/feedback. I hope you're enjoying this as much as I am writing it! :) And many thanks to our lovely and talented NORTHERNEXPOSURE for giving me the following idea:
On the other side of the door...
-5-
But Ruth is still awake. In bed. On the other side of the door. And unlike Harry, she is appropriately dressed for sleeping, in a soft fleecy set of sky blue pajamas. But that is the only difference, it seems, between them. That and the door which separates them. She wonders what he had been thinking about before drifting off. And if he is dreaming. And what he is dreaming about. And about whom he is dreaming. And she knows that he is indeed sound asleep because of what had happened not long ago. That and of course, she can still hear, even from where she is in her bed, the gentlest of snoring from the other side of the door. But aside from that, all is quiet. And in stark contrast to not long ago when his mysterious movements and mutterings had actually brought her to the door. Holding her breath. Listening. Trying to picture him. Her ear pressed into the wood.
Then, not long ago at all, she had taken note of the light still peeking through beneath the bottom edge of the door. Carefully, she had crept over there fervently hoping he could not see a shadow of any kind at the door's edge from where she was standing. True, she had told herself, her side was dark, her feet bare, but still she had prayed that it was dark enough. That no tell-tale shadow could be seen. The very idea that he would know she was standing there had made her heart stop for a moment. After a while, however, it began to beat again. And it was only then that she had begun to listen in earnest. Pressing her ear to the door, she had put all her analytical talents to the test. But it had been to no avail. Whatever he had been doing and muttering about failed to take shape in her mind. For just a moment, though, it had sounded liked he was stripping the bed of its covers. But she had discounted that immediately as absurd, her conversation of bed bugs forgotten. But his muttering was indisputable. And so, she had pressed her ear till it hurt against the wood. That as well was to no avail. What he had been muttering about would forever remain a mystery to her.
And when a thud from his side had nearly caused her to lose her balance, she had held her breath again. And waited. Another thud. But she had only smiled then, inordinately pleased she had guessed right. His shoes. Still, she had continued to stand there. Waiting. For what, she could not have answered. Not even herself. And then, a creak. A loud creak. This she had also understood. He was in bed. Still she had stood there. And listened. Then soon, remarkably soon, it had seemed to her, he had begun to snore. That had brought a smile to her face. And it was only then that she had turned back to her own bed, finally slipping under the covers.
And it is there that she now lies. Under the covers. Staring at the door. And the panel of wood that separates her from him. Now she wonders why he left the light on. If it will disturb him. If only she could sneak in and shut it off. But she rejects that as far too dangerous. What if he were to wake up? See her standing there? In her nightclothes? Her heart starts to pound again. She wonders if he is even wearing pajamas. And what kind of pajamas. Perhaps he only wears underwear. Boxers? Briefs? She claps a hand to her mouth in the dark, picturing his hairy legs in his underwear, his little bit of pot belly peeking through his undershirt. She presses her hand to her mouth even more. What if he sleeps sans underwear? Her mind starts to go even further. Suddenly, she coughs. Twice. Her eyes jerk to the door. She listens. But he is still snoring. She breathes again. She grabs some bottled water on the night table by her bed and drinks a bit. Placing it back, she finally lies her head down on her pillow. She continues to worry that the light from his side will disturb him. And with that last thought, she drifts off to sleep. On the other side of the door.
Next up: H/R Ice skating?
Whee!