Totally Touching

For the fourth time that night, Martha traded the pillow in the bed for the one on the floor. When she turned thirty-seven, she began to “run hot.” To counter it, she slept with three pillows: one under her head, two in rotation—one in the bed, one on the floor. When she woke overheated, she grabbed a cool pillow from the floor and pressed it to her body. For twenty-five years, it had worked perfectly. Menopause, who? She only had to wake every two hours to retrieve a pillow from the floor.

Her husband, Bret, didn’t mind the movement, though it always woke him. He had been a light sleeper since the war—perhaps his whole life. His mother used to say he was the baby who wouldn’t stay down for a nap.

He thought of his parents, nearing their sixty-fifth wedding anniversary. That’s what happens when you marry young and live long. He had seen a strong, stable marriage and never fell for the fairy-tale version.

In the dark, Martha ran through tomorrow. It was the fastest way back to sleep. Feed the dog and cat. Scoop the litter boxes while Bret made coffee. Unload the dishwasher while he took out the trash. Pack lunches. Work. Come home. Make dinner—steak, because it was easy. Bret would probably mow; he’d said the grass was getting too tall.

Bret remembered asking his father about proposing to Martha. They were at his younger brother’s football game, watching the marching band at halftime.

“You see that band?” his father said. “How they know where they’re going? They move in step, don’t collide. Together and apart, they become one thing. Up close, it’s thirty individuals. From the stands, it’s one unit. That’s marriage. That’s what you’re signing up for.”

He hadn’t understood it then. He knew marriage wasn’t cinematic romance, but until you live it, you can’t see how the pieces separate and align to form a whole.

He thought of how empty and quiet his life would be without her as he smoothed sleeping Martha’s hair. She woke often, but when she slept, she slept deeply. 

Martha felt his hand and stayed still. She had always pretended to be asleep when he touched her in the night—his palm warm on her back, his fingers in her hair. It was comforting. After all these years, she didn’t want to break the illusion. She was a light sleeper too; he just didn't know. There are some surprises in marriage after all.