He comes down the stairs wearing sweatpants and an undersized longsleeve tee. He stands for a minute, struggling with the doggy gate before entering the room, bundling himself in a sleeping bag, and sitting down on the floor. He lets out a series of heavy sighs, shaking his head up and down slowly.
Neither of us are much in the mood for talking. So we take turns staring at each other while the other stares into the carpet. We begin a silent tango of head nods and shrugs, wide concerned eyes. After a few minutes, I set down my computer next to me casually pressing the volume of my itunes creep up one level and clear my throat.
"We should make a fort."
"Are you serious?" His head snaps towards me. I can tell he's not only wondering if I'm serious, but how this discovery would be accepted by his sleeping girlfriend. His expression reads; She's actually crazy. She's actually batshit crazy.
A sentiment, I feel, that is at this point deserved.
It be better to say that this was a distraction designed to get his mind off of the heavy family news, and the current turbulence of his relationship with the woman upstairs behind the closed bedroom door. And sure, partially it is. But really, it's not. The couch is L shaped and has huge cushions on it, each complete with velcro strips along the back. Given their presence and the contributions brought down to make my "bed" (sheet, sleeping bag, oversized blanket, two camping pillows, and four decorative smaller pillows) we could create a masterpiece that might actually be able to battle the Bubble Fort of '95.
I stand up and start tossing the cushions his direction. For a few moments I can tell his mind is not on the weight of the day and I feel as though I may have redeemed myself, if only for five minutes.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment