Suzie’s House 350 : Pillow Thoughts

Suzie lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. A car drove slowly past, casting light-shadows across the dark ceiling like ghosts flowing through a sea of doubt. Like her thoughts, they kept flickering before going out with the low hiss of tires on pavement.

It wasn’t like he’d been particularly cunning in showing up now. He could hardly be said to have ridden to her rescue.

So why did she want him so badly?

She rolled over and gave the pillow next to her a punch. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She had far too much on her plate to deal with a degenerate, former FBI agent.

Besides, he was the one who abandoned her. If he hadn’t insisted on going none of this would have happened. He was the one who thought that she couldn’t love him unless he was and FBI agent. Now look at him. No job and only half the fine mind he used to have.

So… did that mean she had to still love him? But she did. Didn’t she?

Or did that stupid sense of responsibility that Miranda always derided her for have something to do with it? She felt this compulsion to take care of him like she felt compelled to take care of Miranda, and Ben, and Gene, and anyone else who seemed to need it?

She always did that – extending herself for every poor waif she came across until she couldn’t extend herself any further. But she didn’t do it for degenerates.

Admittedly he wasn’t really a degenerate. The word emaciated came to mind, though he had enough flesh on his bones to make the word laughable. But there was something hungry about him that made the word “needy” seem trivial.

He needed her. He cared about her. Everything he had done since coming back screamed love. But still, he hadn’t hesitated to leave her once. He’d probably do it again.

He’d broken her heart.

A part of her thought any man who would walk off so uncaringly should just curl up and die. The rest of her found the sentiment mortifying. Suzie rolled over, thrashing enough to make the bed sway.

She would never love a man who treated her with such disregard. Would she? But she loved Drew. Didn’t she?

Yes. She did. She did still love him. It wasn’t a misplaced sense of duty. She really, really loved him.

So what was she doing laying in the dark, tossing and turning by herself while he slept on the floor in the den?

Then again, why didn’t he just know she wanted him? Why didn’t he come to her room and ask? Why wasn’t he in her bed now?

She tossed the covers off, intending to go down stairs and give him a piece of her mind. Her feet had not yet touched the floor when she heard a sound coming from the hall. A creek of wood from the staircase. Someone was coming upstairs.

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