The Bed I Lie In

The dog next door has been my excuse. He is a dreadful annoyance, barking almost constantly all day and night. Until the neighbor moved in last fall I never knew dogs could have insomnia, or it could be contagious. His plaintive anguished cry seems akin to my own as of late, and I can identify with the plight of a chained dog in a dreary setting. The dog didn’t put himself on that leash like I did, but he has given me an excuse to give my husband as to why I haven’t slept with him for over half a year. Last night for the first time since my father died in January, I went to lie in the king size walnut bed that I have shared with my spouse for these 32 years. The old dragon must have been surprised to find me there when he stumbled in around 3 am, his usual bedtime. He was drunk, of course, but still the memory of what we once shared drew him to put his arms around me and in some half remembered way start touching my body in places he has ignored for years. I gradually came to consciousness warmed by his caress and rolled to meet him, forgetting in my half sleep state that this would have no conclusion but frustration. By the time I was fully awake, he was snoring loudly in my ear, his dead weight pressing so hard against me that I struggled to extract myself.

Words are all I have. I’m out of tears. I’m tired of talking that goes in circles back to the same dead end and is forgotten by him the next day. His dream of our future is to sit in some rural backwater by a river and watch, half conscious, as the rest of his life passes by on the current. I have been trying to find the words to make him understand it’s not enough for me. Marriage is not about the words on paper. The contract we have with each other is like a carefully negotiated peace treaty. It has been bound and sealed over the years with the spider silk of shared experience, common goals, and genuine friendship. Those clinging strands are much tougher to break than a cage of iron, and I doubt that I will ever be entirely free. I just know that there must be another life for me that is more stimulating emotionally, intellectually, and physically than this one I leading. The terrible conflict I have is not giving up a safe harbor, for I am a woman to be reckoned with, not the young girl who landed storm tossed in this place. It is because I know his heart as I know my own, and already feel the hurt that will be there in his uncomprehending eyes