The Passing of Time
Susannah couldn't sleep.
She tried not waking Rick. She had woken him far too many times during the past few months. Still, he rolled onto his back and reached for her. She rested her head on his chest, hoping to feel a familiar calm. Instead, she felt stiff and distant.
"Sorry if I woke you."
"That's all right. Do you want to talk?"
"No." She answered quickly. "Please, no."
He squeezed her shoulder. "Would you like me to make you a cup of herbal tea? Chamomile?"
"No, but thanks. We should get some sleep. We both have work in the morning." She arched her neck and kissed his cheek. His stubble pricked her lips. He smelled of sleep and familiarity, a scent she once found so relaxing that she'd lie with her head on his chest and drift off, even as he'd reach around with his other hand and gently run his finger down her cheek. She'd wake, turn towards his lips, and they'd fall into lovemaking in one fluid motion.
Now that seemed as distant as childhood innocence.
She felt Rick stir and knew he was growing erect. How could he? After all that's happened, how could he? She wished she could put it all aside as easily. But she was the one who had carried the baby for nine months, she was the one who had felt the baby's little body rip through her. She was the one who had found the baby in her crib, cold and blue, just five days after they had brought her home.
Susannah turned away, wanting to escape to her side of the invisible border separating herself from her husband. He turned towards her and pressed his body into hers. She felt him harden. She knew what he wanted, what she wanted to do for him. But she just couldn't. She felt anger and sadness, regret and sorrow. Most of all, she felt empty.
"Not yet," she whispered.
"When?"
"Soon."
"You know I love you, Susannah."
"I know. And I love you."
She felt him kiss her neck and turn to his side of the bed. After a while, the bed rocked gently at first and then more forcefully. She wanted to reach for him, show him she still loved him. But she couldn't move. She remembered how yesterday morning she had walked into the bathroom as he showered and heard him crying. She walked out, not saying a word.
The bed continued to rock. He sighed. Then everything went quiet and still.
"I'm sorry I'm not there for you," she said after a long silence.
"And I'm sorry I..."
"No," she said. "It's not your fault."
"No," he said. "It's nobody's fault."