Some day she would not wake – she prays for this every night as she lays waiting for sleep. Tonight is not bad, there will be no need to use a pill. In fact, she is very good about the pills. Dr. Morgan has told her – almost encouraged her, she feels – to use a pill a night, and not fight for sleep as she sometimes does. But she can not bring herself to believe that that is right – she is certain Ned would never have agreed to it.
Ned was never one to take the easy way out. Not, she would hasten to add, that he was some sort of doomsayer, or a fanatic of any sort. But he did believe that it was up to each person to solve their own problems. Where he may have expected too much, was believing that all problems had a solution, and he would keep at something with a relentless persistence.
She would sometimes stand near him as he was trying to replace some tiny piece of a machine, or climb yet again on the shed roof with some tar, and she would say, “Leave it be, Ned. Let it alone.” But he would just pause, settle back on his heels and perhaps light a cigarette, and say that he may as well be putting in the time on this as on anything else.
And back he would go at it. As far as she knew, he never gave up on anything until it was done. He was not the type to gloat, or even show much sense of satisfaction, and she had been married to him for years before she recognised his small mannerisms which meant that he was pleased.
She turns over, being careful not to lay an arm on his side of the bed, or let a foot stray over the line she has refused to cross for eight years, ever since she reached out one morning and touched cold flesh.
No, she will not need a pill tonight, her work has tired her enough to eventually bring on sleep. It is, of course, the memories weaving through her mind which she would really like to stop with the pills. Those memories she can barely stand, and without which she could not live.
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