3 AM with a Second Sleeper

Well, this is lovely. I can’t sleep anymore, because the whole thing’s rushing back. Damn Kate's mom and her vicious little screeds. I read it myself, just to rub the salt in, I guess. It's not fair for me to walk away from what Kate can't.

I want to wake Alex up to talk to her, but she doesn’t want to hear about Kate at all. I’m sure if I tell her I’m dreaming about KD, that’ll go over well. Besides, I want her to sleep. One of us should. She can lie there and not know, and be something untouched by it all. Once she knows, if she ever does, I really doubt I’ll see her sleep again. I don’t want to think about that possibility. Right now, seeing her there is as much comfort as I can imagine.

The whole idea of talking to someone while they’re asleep is ridiculous, isn’t it? But I have the urge to tell her what I can’t when she’s awake.

It started so well with Kate, even the second time around, but the end was hell, and I helped make it that way. The final nail in the coffin - even bringing that metaphor into it makes me sick, after all this time. Is it any wonder it comes back from my subconscious to haunt me – the things that happened, and the thing that didn’t?

In my dreams, I fight with her about it again. But this time, there’s no screaming, and I cave in much more quickly. Maybe I didn’t have the last drink, or maybe I had a few more. This time, I can say what I think, it’s in my head as words, not as hot, angry flashes that I don’t understand.
I ask her if it’s me, I don’t scream that I know it is.
I ask her why I can’t be good enough, but the hate I managed to direct outward instead of at myself - it isn’t there this time.
I deal with her fears that she can’t do this, instead of mine that I can’t.
I beg her to let us make it work, instead of shouting at her that she’s a bitch for not considering it.
I tell her that she’ll be good enough, instead of snarling that she thinks she’s too good.
I tell her it’s okay to need me, even just sometimes. I tell her it’s more than needing, that I really want her around. That if I’d had more time, this wouldn’t have been an issue. That this isn’t why I want her to stay.
I can still her crying through the door, but now I don’t have to break it down. The window isn’t open, she isn’t gone. This time, she lets me in. This time, she stays.

*****

But I’m awake now, and it’s years – decades – later, and what could have been is long gone. Alex isn’t Kate, and she’s asleep. I want to tell her just being here with her makes things seem better, but without telling her why, could she understand? Things aren’t different, they are what they are. All I can do is hold onto her until morning, as long as I can.
Maybe I’ll try Sara’s advice. “I think I might be…”