In Between

I’m sitting on the couch because you told me I had to sleep there.

It’s cold out here, because I haven’t gotten the blanket yet. It’s in our room. I don’t want to deal with you right now. Why can’t you just throw it down the stairs? Like you did last time? Save us the trouble of interacting.

The TV is getting loud. I'm watching one of those mind numbing action flicks. With explosions. A truck is plowing through a building on the screen.

Destroying everything.

I hate the way when we fight I always get the couch. It’s not fair. But I can’t say anything.

Just because I didn’t like your spinach puffs.

And I didn’t take out the trash.

Or help you with the baby.

But I work all day! Someone has to bring home the money.

I remember when we just got married. It was going to be an adventure. Like in the movies.

But they don’t show the in betweens.

They never show the in betweens.

You aren’t yelling about the TV, so you must be asleep. Good.

I tiptoe up the staircase, leaving the TV loud in the background. Maybe because it will cover my steps. Maybe I just don’t care.

You left the light on - you fell asleep reading. The book is open on your lap, your glasses nearly sliding off your nose.

A breeze drifts in, blowing back the curtains and bringing the sound of a passing car.

Some hotshot college guy shouts from down the road, his loud voice fading as the car burns rubber.

Sighing, I shut the window, because the noise might wake the baby - or you - but mainly because there are goose pimples down your arms and you're shivering slightly.

I go over to the bed and move you under the covers. You’re still sort of awake so you help a little. I wrap the covers around you, take off your glasses, and turn off the light. A few minutes pass, and I watch you. Eyelids closed. Mouth slightly frowning. Light brown curls, messy and frayed, lingering over your forehead. I push them aside and kiss it, thinking by now you've fallen fast asleep and won't mind.

I turn to leave, but your hand catches mine. You gently pull it closer towards the bed and give it a light squeeze.

I’m sorry, too.

I didn’t sleep on the couch that night.