Relatively Sane by Whitney Dineen

Author:Whitney Dineen [Dineen, Whitney]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: 33 Partners Publishing
Published: 2019-04-01T04:00:00+00:00

Sleep Deprivation and Gerbils

My phone rings at seven a.m. If my calculations are correct, I might have gotten a grand total of four hours of sleep. The last time I remember looking at the clock it was 2:57. I sang the same ditty in my head as I did every other time I checked the time. Two, two, bo boo, banana fanna fo foo … but I don’t remember anything else, so I must have finally gone lights out.

I groggily answer, “Hello?”

“Cat, it’s me. How are you?” It’s Sam. His voice fills me with a feeling of contentment and warmth—until I remember he lied to me yesterday.

“I slept like crap,” I snap. “What do you want?”

“I’m sorry about yesterday. I promise I wasn’t hiding anything from you. I should have told you where I was, I just really wanted to finish my meeting and get back to work.”

“And …” I prompt.

“I’m sorry. Truly. Cat, I love you and I’d never do anything to hurt us.”

“What do mean by that?” I ask.

“I mean you and I together, are all that matters. I’ll do everything I have to in order to protect us.”

His words clearly have a deeper meaning than what he’s copping to.

“I miss you. What are you doing tonight?” he asks.

Gah, tonight. I can barely think of today, yet alone anything after that. “I don’t know, why?” I begin to thaw ever so slightly.

“I thought we could go to dinner and movie or something. How does that sound?”

I want to tell him that if he wants to see me, he has to come over here, but even I don’t want to be here anymore. “Fine. I’ll meet you at your house at six.” I hang up before he can say anything else. I’m exhausted and I desperately need more sleep.

I don’t wake up until ten. I’m so out of it I’m not even sure where I am. I know I’m not in New York. I finally recognize my parents’ basement. Then I remember it’s my basement now. I sit up slowly and wonder why no one woke me. The house is dead quiet, so everyone must be outside.

I jump out of bed and throw on some yoga pants and a t-shirt without even bothering to brush my hair or teeth before running up the stairs. There are remnants of breakfast lying around the kitchen, so I grab a muffin and my coat and head out the back door. I hear the familiar sounds of electric saws and nail guns filling the air. Bodies are milling about. Scottie is sitting on the tire swing kicking his feet back and forth under him. He looks like a kid on a playground that no one will play with—in a word, dejected.

I approach, “Hey, buddy. You okay?”

He doesn’t even look up. “No.”

“I’m sorry about your mom. Travis told me.”

“What kind of woman doesn’t accept her own kid? It’s not natural.” He lets out a big sigh.

I’m in total agreement with him. Sadly, not all creatures were meant to be mothers.

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