[Ponine]

Megan snuggled into her pillow a bit deeper, one arm supporting the pillow, the other curled up under her chin. She briefly opened her eyes; saw the moonlight playing shadows about the room, while the cool night breeze embraced her bare leg.

“Why am I awake? What happened to the covers, and what time is it anyway?” Knowing better than to move more than a muscle she turned her eyes to the clock. 3:18 am. “Why am I awake?” she wondered again.

Megan listened to the sounds of the house; no cat was purring, no sounds of children, no wildlife sounds from the outside. Odd. She was never an early riser; something must have awakened her. Maybe it was an earthquake. She stretched her legs out gently, coming back into the fetal position she tended to favor at night. That’s when she felt it. That’s the reason she was awake.

He had woken her up. Rhythmically his hand went from her hip to her breast, and back, over and over again. Dammit. That stretch had cost her, he thought she was awake. “Now what?” A common enough question, one she in fact asked herself quite often. She’d tried to lie as still as she could, maybe in fact lull herself back to sleep. Just maybe, he’d think she stretched in her sleep.

She already knew how many knots were in the wood of the closet door, how many hangars were on her side of the closet, as well as how many of those hangars were plastic. There were thirty-two pleats in the lamp at her bedside, and if you looked at it just right, the teddy bear she’d had since college looked as if he were carrying a torch of flames.

She closed her eyes, slowed her breathing and prayed for sleep. “This cant be all there is. There has to be a day that isn’t met with silence and day dreams of other times and places they may never come.” Megan tried to convince herself that all she had to do was get herself back to sleep, to be anywhere but where she was.

It wasn’t going to work, not tonight. She felt him push up against her, grab onto her hip, and make sure she wasn’t going to move as he pressed into her back. “3:20 am, what a time to start the day”, was about all she could think.
He hadn’t spoken a word, nor would he in all likelihood, that just wasn’t his style. He’d never know if she was awake, but he’d assume she was, and that’s all that would matter.

“There’s an open coke on my desk at work. I could really stand to clean out that basket in the closet. I wonder what’s in it. There’s that box of fabric downstairs that I haven’t touched in five years, maybe I should donate it.” Her mind kept working through the problems of the day, of the week, and a great many things that weren’t problems at all. Anything to keep her mind somewhere else entirely.

As continued to press rhythmically against her back, Megan continued to drift further and further away. It was 3:30 now, at least the numbers on the clock were moving, even if time it self were standing still. It was only a matter of time and he’d have done what he needed to, then roll away and fall asleep.
What would it be like she wondered, to hear someone’s voice in your ear at those moments? What is it like to really know that smile is for you, and not just for show? What is it like to be who you are, and not hide away in your personal cave inside?

“I want to start over. I want to burn this life, and walk out of the flames unscathed and start again. Can I do that? Or would I show the scars of the fire? How does that bird do it? Isn’t there an oriental bird that rises from ashes? God, why can’t I remember that?”

Megan’s memory searched and searched for that answer, looking in places in her mind she hadn’t opened in years. Places she wouldn’t look again. She was turned over onto her back, one of his forearms crossed her windpipe and pressed down, the other arm held her hands above her head. By her calculation that meant two more minutes. She started counting…1…2….3….4…5…6…………………………………221…222……
He stopped. Placed his head on her stomach, rolled over and in moments, started to snore.

3:45. “Phoenix” she said aloud. The first word uttered in twenty seven minutes. “It’s a god damn Phoenix.”