She paused in her words, turning her gaze to the bed in the corner. I could tell that she wasn't really seeing the bed, not that bed at least, but another one. The one she'd shared with her husband.
"I think it was a pretty soft bed. Not very firm. But," she shrugged, "I don't know. I really don't remember. It was white, just a bit off-white... there was one sheet. The sun would shine in through the window right across the room from it, the light would hit the bed while we snuggled... in the morning? I suppose in the morning. Dawn light has that sort of feel to it."
"Ah," I replied intelligently. I looked over at the clock. 2 am. I knew she was planning on dragging herself out of bed at 8 in the morning. I also knew that it took her at least an hour to get into a restful state even after she'd crawled into bed.
I leaned forward, my next question on my lips, though I stumbled over it for a second before getting it out properly, "Why don't you sleep?"
She looked to the left and down, glancing up to catch my gaze before looking down again, "I... don't like to sleep alone. It's... I mean... he... sometimes... but...."
I obviously couldn't make much sense of the jumbled sentence, "Huh?" I was becoming an expert at these intelligent replies.
She gave a small laugh, intentionally hollow, "We probably haven't slept together for more years than we ever actually spent sleeping together." I was rather certain I could work that sentence out, if I thought about it some. "But I can't get used to him not being in the bed next to me. It feels like half the bed is missing." Her laugh was a bit more genuine, "Even on that huge bed I have." She went quiet and her eyes watered up a little. "He used to hold me at night." I was shocked when the salty liquid building up in her eyes overflowed. She held up her hand, covering up the tears and wiping them away at the same time.
"Are you okay?" I asked, reaching out a hand but not quite managing to close the distance between us.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm alright," her way of speaking matched her young appearance for the first time in the conversation. "I just really..." she looked at the clock. 2:10 am, now. "I should probably go to sleep."
She stood, and I stood too. I put a hand on her shoulder, wanting to offer some sort of comfort, but not quite certain how. I certainly didn't know what to say. What can you say to a person in a situation as weird as hers?
"Sometimes, you know..." she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper. I had to step closer to hear her. "Sometimes, if I go to bed early enough, or really around the same time he goes to bed... sometimes we talk."
"Yeah?" This intelligent reply had four letters in it. I was getting good.
She smiled with that distant look of hers, "Yeah."
"Well, I'm going. Night."
"Night. Sweet dreams."