Last night, Mike came home from work really late. I feel asleep close to 1:00 am. Despite my valiant efforts at trying to outlast my bodies need to rest. When you sleep, you are vulnerable. So rape-ishly vulnerable. Like a genetically engineered pocket sized lamb. There is no defending yourself. I woke up at 2:15, I look around and sense something is missing. That something is Michael. I immediately go to the bathroom. Not because I thought he was in there, but because I really had to pee. I come back to bed and slowly feel the adrenalin starting to surge through my veins. It dawns on me."OH MY GOD HE IS NO LONGER ALIVE! I WILL HAVE TO CALL HIS DAD AND TELL HIM HE IS NOT HOME BECAUSE HE IS DEAD AND THEN I WILL HAVE TO STAY IN THIS HOUSE ALL ALONE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE KILLING MICE AND BEING TORMENTED BY SPIDERS. HOME INVADERS WILL BREAK IN EVERY NIGHT AND HIDE IN MY CLOSET AND UNDER THE BED STABBING ME WITH THINGS THAT ARE SHARP BUT NOT DEADLY. I WILL NEVER SLEEP AGAIN, I WILL NEVER GET MARRIED, AND I WILL HAVE TO PAY ALLI THE BILLS BY MYSELF . FUCKUCKFUCK.
I tried to remain calm, despite my adrenal medulla working twenty-six times faster than is called for. I could not calm down, I tried to tell myself " he is probably alive, I bet he is on the bus." My adrenalin soaked brain however was all " FAT CHANCE! HE IS DEAD. HE IS AS OF THIS MOMENT, EVEN DEADER THAN HE WAS 20 SECONDS AGO." My mind was not able to tolerate its own torment so I did what I usually do in situations I cant handle. I pretend it is not happening.I tried to fool myself into thinking I could sleep, however the cocktail of "flight or flight" chemicals my body was drenching every cell membrane in, would most definitely not let this happen. I laid there for all of 30 seconds when my magical thinking set in and I though if I looked out the window long enough I could summon him to appear alive and not mauled by a Serial Killer.
I did this, I thought it worked because a cab drove down my street and I thought " oh this must be him, thank God for me looking out this window which now I associate with having magical properties. It was not him. I slipped back into panic mode. My adrenalin induced high subsided a little and I was able to lay my head down. I couldn't shut my eyes, I think my pupils were still too dilated to be able to close. I decided if he was not home by 3:00 that this meant he was absolutely in the first stages of rigor mortis somewhere in an alley in Kensington. It was now 2:30, my hopes of ever eating "nacho eggs", ( a new recipe I had concocted while in the shower one morning) with Mike would never come to fruition. 2:35, the bedroom door bursts open. My first thought is, HOME FUCKING INVASION ITS HAPPENING! The only plan I have for this scenario if I am alone is to jump out of a window. It does not matter what floor I am on. I would rather die of a heart attack free falling to my death than at the hands of a murder-y burglar rapist.Then I see him, like a shining beacon of alive-ness. HE'S NOT DEAD!
I wanted so badly to run up and attack Mike with breath shortening hugs. I resisted though, because I wanted him to think I was calmly, and peacefully sleeping. I feigned sleepiness and instead said " hey, your home late". He was like "yeah". Then he turned out the light and got into bed. I then had to hug him. I imagine this was something like the Apostles felt when Jesus came back and was all " hey whats up, sorry I couldn't call the reception in that cave you guys stuck me in was really crappy, and man was it dark.' All of the Apostles cheered because, JESUS CHRIST, that dead guy just came back to life!. That is how I felt when Michael walked through the door. He was all " lets go to sleep now" He did not realize I had just been through the five stages of grieving in the past half hour and the multiple chemical cocktails my brain churned out were still coursing through me. I kept hugging him and shut my eyes, got a solid two hours of sleep. I was pretty pumped when I woke up the next in the morning. Not because I felt rejuvenated, but because Mike was still alive! and I was not hacked to death in my sleep. I WIN!
I really should tell him not to let me read, or even look at the news because it just fuels my insane fear of us both being stabbed up then shot then raped a little while we are sleeping. I just cant handle it.
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