March 1982
"You're up late." Kathy had come out of the bedroom and was now standing behind me as I sat on the couch. I liked the pressure of her hands on my shoulders.
"Not up late--couldn't sleep."
She sat next to me. "Everything okay?"
I nodded. We'd been married for just two months, and she had yet to become used to my chronic insomnia.
"You hungry?"
"Not any more. I had two bowls of ice cream. Now I just feel crappy."
She pointed at the book on my lap. "What are you reading?"
"Kafka."
"That'll cheer you up."
I laughed. "Who wants to be happy when they can't sleep? It's a time to revel in misery."
We sat there, and she leaned into me. "I'm sorry you had to get out of bed," I said. "You didn't have to. You know I can't go far if I try to escape." I raised my half-leg.
"Oh, I've seen you hop," Kathy said. "You're pretty good at pogo-sticking around."
That made me feel good, relaxed. Kathy was relaxed, too, and I could tell by her breathing that she was dozing off. "Kathy."
"What?" she whispered.
"Let's go back to bed."
"Can you sleep now?"
"I think so."
"Okay. I'll race you."
In bed, Kathy was asleep again almost immediately. I lay on my side, facing her, watching as her breasts rose and fell with her breathing.
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