He shrugged. “No. I’m a bit tired.”
She pushed a button on the remote, and the TV screen faded. “All right. I’m ready for bed too.”
Richard turned off the living room lights as they left.
Nicky was sitting up in bed, reading her book, while Richard lay next to her, deep in thought.
She turned to him. “You all right?”
“Yeah, fine. Why?”
“You just seem quiet. Is there something on your mind?”
He shook his head. “No, nothing—everything’s fine.”
“You sure?”
He forced a smile. “I’m fine, honestly. It’s just work and stuff. The usual.”
“Well, you have to try and block it out of your mind.”
“I know. But it’s hard. So many things to do when I get back.”
“Isn’t there something else you can focus on? Like seeing your friends or something? Or what you’re going to get me for Christmas?”
“It’s the middle of spring, babe. It’s a bit early to be dropping hints, don’t you think?”
She patted him on the chest, and then went back to her book. “It’s never too early to drop hints—especially when men are concerned.”
Rolling his eyes, he turned onto his side to go to sleep.
But as he listened to the scraping noise Nicky’s book made each time she turned a page, he knew that any hope of sleep was futile. The idea of having a stack of problems waiting for him when he returned was sure to keep him up for the next ten days.
And now he was seeing things in his kitchen.
Maybe I’m losing it…
The clock turned over to 4:08 a.m.
Richard witnessed it, just like he’d witnessed every other minute for the past four hours. He couldn’t remember the last time he had such a problem with insomnia. And then he did. It reminded him of the time back in college when Gary spiked his lager with amphetamines. He spent the entire night sitting up in bed, watching a Simpsons marathon, wondering why he couldn’t keep still, and why on earth his teeth were grinding together.
And then he smiled.
Good times.
Nicky began to stir next to him, so he froze, trying not to make any unnecessary movements. But now he wasn’t even close to being relaxed, which made sleep even more unfeasible.
God, I’m tired. What’s wrong with me?
Frustrated, he shuffled to find a more comfortable position, risking disturbing Nicky. He closed his eyes and swore to himself that he wouldn’t open them again until morning.
After perhaps twenty minutes, he slipped into a trance. Thoughts of work, and Nicky, and college flooded his mind. Then he imagined being back in Worcester, Nicky in her little side office again, smiling at him as he clocked in. As more and more images filled his head, they became more vague and illogical. A mess of thoughts that only a madman could decipher.
Sleep was coming.
The sounds of the night were now lost in his trance. He could feel the events of the day fading into nothingness as he slipped deeper and deeper toward sleep.
It felt good. Such a relief.
A screeching police siren filled his dreams. Or was it an ambulance? He could never tell the difference.
But the shriek was still with him in the bedroom when he opened his tired eyes. Nicky sat up in a flash, her eyes wide with panic.
It was the smoke detector.
Richard leaped out of bed, almost tripping on the overhanging quilt.
“What the hell’s that noise?” Nicky said, covering her ears with her palms.
“It’s the smoke alarm,” he said as he dashed out onto the dark landing to find the culprit.
It was the same one from yesterday. And the day before.
Racing down the stairs, he reached up at the device. Just as his fingers touched the plastic body, the sound vanished.