We try to sleep. We toss like fish in a basket, our bodies making tiny leaps over the rosebud sheets — not our sheets. Our sheets are gray from too many washings and not enough hot water, not enough bleach.
Bleach terrifies me. I can't stand it, since I ruined my best tie-dyed t-shirt as a teenager. That t-shirt had been washed thin and hugged my collarbones, my stomach, my spine, when nothing else in life hugged me.
These rosebud sheets still have a new smell and thorns that scratch, not at all like our jersey sheets.
We try to sleep. The overhead fan moves up and down on the ceiling, a merry-go-round horse going round and round and up and down. With each revolution, it shouts "Viva!" And we can't sleep. No matter how hard we try.
We turn in unison, first to the left, then to the right. We peel off our nightshirts, throw our bodies on top of the stifling quilt. God!
They keep this house at 80 degrees and sleep under blankets. They say we will, too, when we get old and our blood thins. But we know we'll never be like them.
Our feet hit the shag carpet at the same time, and we creep to the thermostat, turn it all the way down to a scandalous 76 degrees. Once there, we can't stop ourselves and cross to the screen porch. We move the damn broomstick from the sliding glass door track. The door squeaks as we slide it open, and we giggle, then slam our hands over our mouths like the grandchildren, our eyes wide. A daring escape — we're outside. They never go out anymore. They're always in the house, roasting in their den like nuts.
We rush out the door and fall laughing to the tile floor. Now, it's the screen door locked at the top and bottom. Who do they think want in?
Someone after their collection of encyclopedias? That heirloom of an organ in their quaint living room stuffed with Victorian odors?
Out! Out! Out! We go. Slide noiseless into the pool. Hover at the steps, sink into the smell of chlorine — they even have dreadfully safe water. We're in the water, in the dark, in danger, at midnight, alone.
He looks at me, and we don't try to sleep anymore.