Sepia

The rain against the window woke her up. Glancing at the clock she discovered it was eleven, without caring enough to remember or really even know. Her eyes blinked fully open, the usual buzzing slowly returning. Turning around in bed, she grabbed the book on her nightstand--Lost Horizon--and began to stare at the pages, pretending to read. Her brain hummed along, lost to its own melody; "golden slumbers fill your eyes..."

* * *

She had never had a full night's sleep. Well, that wasn't true; her mom used to tell everyone that would listen about her daughter's amazing sleeping habits as an infant. SHe slept through the entire night when she was just two months old. But maybe even then she had just been pretending, the way she did now when her mom came to check on her. Or maybe she had slumbered so soundly because she knew she never would again.

But these restless nights were not a dream, and even if they had been she wouldn't have known. She clearly remembered the last time she had slept and dreamt but she didn't remember what it felt like, and she didn't know how to dream. Her life was lived the only way she knew it and that was in a haze, unaware. But to one who had known no other, it was not bad. Merely unfulfilled.

* * *

She heard the footsteps in her mother’s room. If she hadn’t known better she would have sworn her mother never slept either. But that was ridiculous. She replaced her book on the nightstand and lay down. She slowed her breathing and stilled her eyes and listened to the imminent approach. Her mind never once forgot its restlessness.

A soft hand turned the doorknob, the owner padding into the room so silently a cat might not have heard it. A wraith-like shadow detached itself from the wall and wandered to the bed. A cool hand fluttered at her forehead, smoothing back her hair. The tender caress made her want to cry.

Her mother pulled the covers up, smoothed her daughter’s hair and turned to leave. As she reached the door, she pivoted slightly, and, a look of profound sadness on her face, she blew a little kiss to the girl lying wide-awake on her bed. The door was pulled shut once more. “Once there was a way to get back homeward...”

* * *

Her life was rather normal during the day. There was nothing to suggest the nighttime conflict other than a lack of anything special about her. But considering the number of normal people, nobody suspected anything. She even managed to fool her family for the most part; but for her twin brother. There was no hiding anything from Giovanni.

He was such an extraordinary person that one could not fail to notice. He was everything she was not, filling his role so seamlessly that they even shared thoughts on occasion. He scared her with his sensitivity sometimes.

When he realized that she didn’t sleep, he was angry. He yelled at her for the first time since she had stolen his toy truck when they were four. She had never even thought about it until then. She never cried. Never. If she did she might have had an easier time with her weeping.

* * *

“What in hell do you think you are playing at?” Giovanni’s face is livid. I am astonished.

“What’s going on?” I ask. “Do you mind keeping your voice down? My head hurts.” I have no idea why he’s so angry but it’s either a really good reason or something petty. Knowing Gio it’s good. But what? I’m confused, and seeing that on my face must make him even angrier because he goes into a full-scale rant. I’m frightened.

“maybe if you weren’t so stupid as to stay awake all night your head wouldn’t hurt. Ever think of that? Maybe if you decided to stop being a martyr and sleep for once you wouldn’t be so goddamned brain dead! Maybe if you didn’t act like the fool that you are, you would be more like...” He seems to realize that he’s hit a problem, because he looks over at me with a contrite expression. I don’t care. If he wants the truth he will get it. And even a brain dead girl can scream when her brother makes her angry enough.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean tha-”

“No. You wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t mean it. Finish the sentence.”

“Look, I-”

“Finish the damned sentence, Giovanni.”

I can tell he is uncomfortable and wants to escape but he dug this hole, and by God, he’ll get himself out. I’m not offering forgiveness today, I’m just too tired.

He takes a breath, pleading with me to release him, his eyes wide and glassy. I look away impatiently, and he begins.

“Maybe...” he hesitates and I make and angry noise in my throat. “...if you didn’t act like such a fool...the fool that you are...you would be more like...more like me.” His hole grows deeper every minute he spends staring at me. He never argues with anybody and has no idea what he’s doing. I plan to show him.

“Oh, so you assume that’s what I want to be like? You think I ENJOY being awake the entire god-forsaken night? I suppose you think it is my pleasure not to know what a real life is or what it’s like to dream about normal things. I must enjoy being alone ninety-five percent of the time, is that right? And I’m glad that nobody knows, that I suffer without anything worrying or caring. Is that what you think, Giovanni?”

He looks at me with tears in his eyes and his arms open as I fall into him, crying against his hest.

* * *

She was unprepared for Giovanni’s arrival. As close to sleep as she ever got was the remembering that happened sometimes, as it just had. She sat upright in her bed as he came slowly closer, his bare feet appearing to hover above the warm floors. After a seemingly endless trek he sat on her bed and brought his legs up to rest on top of her stack of blankets.

She scooted closer and they sat in silence without touching for nearly an eternity, their silence mutually understood. Then he reached out to hold her and a shock plagued them both. A surprised giggle escaped her mouth, and she could feel his smile. His arms were strong and warm and he rocked her back and forth, slowly numbing her sense. “Sleep pretty darling do not cry. And I will sing a lullaby...”

* * *

Sometimes she gets so tired she doesn’t remember her name. Sometimes she is so sick of sleeplessness that she doesn’t know how to exist. Sometimes she gets so restless that she forgets who her brother, mother, father are. Sometimes she can’t stand her isolation.

Sometimes she gets so thirsty that she almost leaves her room. She can feel her parched throat calling for water and she knows the kitchen is mere steps away. But she can’t go there and she can’t leave her island because if she does she has left the last safe place where she can exist in her bestial form. She can’t venture from her bed where she is chained because she knows there will be no turning back from the insanity that would ensue. She knows that she must stay in her prison lest she destroy herself. So she thinks of water and pretends to be satisfied.

* * *

It’s not very often that she thinks of the future. She is so preoccupied with merely existing that she’s not sure what to think of the myth that she could be happy. She doesn’t know what to think of a life that would be dictated by her and not her affliction. But that’s not to say she never does.

* * *

“I am going to be a writer.”

“I am going to live in Europe.”

I am going to Julliard. I am going to write a novel. I’m going to meet Robin Williams. I’m going to marry Johnny Depp. I’m going to act on Broadway. I’m going to win awards. I’m going to teach ballet. I’m going to school in New York. I’m going to teach my brother guitar. I’m going to play at Carnegie Hall. I’m going to tour Europe. I’m going to get a summer job. I’m going to get married in December, outside, while it’s snowing, in Central Park. I’m going to have five children. I’m going to learn how to cook, how to drive, how to conduct an orchestra. I'’ going to see my brother have children, and I’ll spoil them. I’m going to watch my parents as they meet their grandchildren. I’m going to live to be 200 years old. I’m going to live to see my great-grandchildren. I’m going to live to-

I’m going to live.

I’m going to LIVE.

* * *

Sometimes her thoughts run away from her. She will daydream about her sketchy future, imagining herself doing anything and everything. An astronaut, a musician...whatever the night calls for. But she hardly ever believes it.

* * *

She could tell by his even breathing that Giovanni had fallen asleep. She knew that to move would wake him, but to stay still was almost more than she could bear. His arms around her acted as both a comfort and a curse. Her body was tortured by stillness, but the more she moved the closer she came to escaping her room and losing herself. She thought once again of her thirst. Her throat was almost shut she was so parched, but Giovanni slep so soundly there was no way she could wake him. And besides, if she left...

Her heart pounded in her chest, and her whole self cried out for it, but she knew the consequences and couldn’t risk so much for water. What would she do without Gio? Even in her normal life a day without him felt like a thousand more. What would she do if she knew he was there but couldn’t understand him? What would happen to her? And her dreams? They would be unfulfilled. All her life in vain...

Too exhausted to sleep, but too weak to continue her struggle, she fell back, limp and thoughtless. “Golden slumbers fill your eyes...”

* * *

Giovanni awoke to watch the sunrise. The birds sang a welcome cadence, and for the first time since he could remember, Lucia slept through the arrival, and on into the soft morning.