Bedful of Moonlight, Raven Held [story books for 5 year olds .TXT] 📗

moved. We mainly stayed in the circle we had drawn around ourselves, him in his work and me in my own head. Maybe it was better that way, easier.
But I dared not sleep tonight. Reading reminded me of too much of what I was trying to leave behind, the Internet had never held much attraction for me, sleeping had now become the most dangerous things I could do, and Jade and I were carefully ignoring each other. Where were the piles and piles of schoolwork when you needed them?
I had never heard of anyone fearing sleep before.
But as I lay in bed that night, I realised that sleep was something I had grown to fear. Who knew if what happened last night wouldn’t happen again? I was too afraid of falling into something so potent, so capable of stealing me away to where the edges of reality blurred so easily with the one in my head.
Night was peaceful when you were awake and your mind was preoccupied. It was the only time anyone could hope to escape from the tiring pretence of normalcy.
I considered sneaking out, maybe exploring Wroughton. Since I was awake, right? I would only sleep when I was dog-tired and unable to dream.
So when I was certain that everyone was asleep, I stole out of bed and pulled on a sweater over my tank-top-and- sweatpants combo.
The minute I opened the door, however, it croaked open, dragging out the excruciating moment where I was sure the entire household would be awakened.
There was only silence as I waited for someone to ask me what I was doing up, and then I decided that I was allowed to go downstairs for a glass of water if I wanted to, and headed downstairs.
Shadows were comforting. Shadows meant that there was light, but not enough of it to illuminate the ugliness.
I hadn’t planned on where to go, or how to even start, by borrowing Caleb or Jade’s bike or by walking. I didn’t even bring my cellphone in case I got lost.
But all that questioning was for nothing, because of what I saw when I opened the front door.
The hunched figured sitting on the darkened porch gave a yelp as he fell backwards. He scrambled to his feet, almost knocking over the mug next to him.
“Caleb! What are you doing up?”
“You do realise I could ask you the same question?”
“I was – up for a glass of water.”
“You won’t find it where you are now.”
I struggled for another excuse for a while, before crossing my arms. “I asked you first.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” he said and sat back down on the porch.
I shut the door and sat down beside him. “Yeah? I get that too sometimes.”
There was just something about sitting beside Caleb in the quiet night that made me feel up to talking. And it was a relief, somehow – cathartic, even though we weren’t even addressing the issue, whatever it was – because it had been a long time since I felt up to talking to anybody.
He looked at me. “You’re an insomniac too?”
“Is that what you are?”
“I have to be,” he said. “I’ve been unable to properly sleep since … since three years ago.”
“Three years? Why three years?”
“Because that was when everything started … or ended, depending on how you see it.”
“How so?”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Family problems, everyone’s got them, right?”
I could not look at him. “My mom left us a month ago.” I had no idea why the hell I was telling him that. The only other person who knew was Blake. So I admitted, “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”
“That’s okay. We can talk about something else. Where were you planning to go, anyway?”
I had the sense of having skirted something before it became bigger than I could handle. And for that diversion he offered, I was grateful. Again.
“I don’t know, explore this neighbourhood?”
“On your own?”
“I was told it’s safe,” I said, shrugging. I looked around, and up at the shadow of night. The stars were watchful. “It sure is quiet here.”
“You’ll get used to it. I did.”
“You weren’t from here originally?”
“We moved here about a couple of years ago, when mom married Gabriel – that was when Reilly decided to leave us, and mom … So, yeah, we’ve been here since. My aunt’s the one who’s been living here with my grandparents since forever.”
“Oh.”
“Do you really intend to walk around Wroughton alone? Why can’t you sleep, anyway?”
“Well, I….”
He noted the shift in my expression. “Ah, I get it.” A smirk grew in his lips. “Don’t wish to burn down another room, huh?”
I hoped the cover of darkness was able to hide the flush in my face. “Are your parents mad about that? I’m really sorry, I promise I –”
He held up a hand, and I shut up immediately. “Like I said, no harm done. No electrical wirings were busted; all you did was set the curtains on fire. Gabriel’s going to get someone to fix everything back up. So just set your mind at ease already, jeez.”
The funny thing was, now that I had the choice of sitting beside Caleb, talking about everything and nothing, I didn’t feel like going anywhere anymore.
“So was that you being unable to sleep last night, when you rescued me from the fire?”
“Like always.”
“Don’t you feel tired?”
“I take naps during the day.” When I raised my brows, he went on, “There’s just something about the night that calms me down. It’s when you can finally be away from the hassle of being around people and their problems and needs. Makes you not want to miss it.” He peered at me. “Do you know what I’m saying?”
Slowly, I shook my head. I did get it, in a way, but I was not sure.
“It’s like, there’s something that night-time gives you, a chance to be truly alone, that –”
“Alone?”
He nodded.
“Why would you want to be alone?”
Laughter bubbled from him. “This coming from someone so guarded and caught up in her own head all the time.”
I said nothing.
“There’s nothing wrong with being alone.”
A chilly breath of wind blew by. Caleb crossed his arms and stared out into the quiet lane lying outside the gates.
“Not if you never used to be.” My voice was soft, robbed by the wind.
His eyes sat upon mine again, heavy in all seriousness. “Is that why you always talk to yourself?”
“Do I?”
He just stared at me, letting the silence affirm it.
I guess everyone was weird in their own ways, and I told him just that.
“Yeah, because everyone goes around talking to some imaginary person.”
“Okay, Mr Completely Sane, point taken.”
He laughed. “Not quite. People can’t stand it when I keep asking hypothetical questions.”
“Those,” I said, “are a lot easier to answer.”
“Exactly. That’s what I always say. Detached, unrelated, hypothetical. Takes the pressure off yourself.” He offered me his mug of tea. When I declined, he shrugged and took a sip. “For example, if I asked you what the worst thing that can follow you home is, it wouldn’t be the same as asking what you were afraid of.”
“Then you’re just being metaphorical, not hypothetical.”
“Must you be so technical about this?”
I shrugged. “Just saying it like it is.”
“Anyway, I always thought it’s a sneaky way of knowing a person without seeming like you’re prying. You can,” he said, “know a lot about a person from the way they answer a question.”
“Right now, the only question you should be asking,” I said, “is what on earth are you rambling on about?”
“It’s the lack of sleep,” he said, laughing again. “It drives us all a bit nuts. You’ll see. Pretty soon, you’ll join me at the dark side.”
I shook my head. “So what do you do when you can’t sleep? Sit around on the porch?”
He chuckled. “Sometimes, I explore Wroughton.”
It was right then that I realised how easy it was to like Caleb. He had an easy air about him that made everyone want to be his friend, to talk to him the way we were talking now. I didn’t exactly see a Them and Us divide between me and the rest of the world. But here in Wroughton, Caleb was my ally. At least, I felt that way.
“So are you up for it now?”
“Maybe tomorrow night,” I said, leaning back on my elbows.
He shrugged. “I guess it’s a date, then.”
I liked the sound of that. It was a routine I could see myself falling into, meeting Caleb in the middle of the night to tour Wroughton.
At the very least, it could kill those lonely hours in the dead of the night.


Seven


“To dare is to lose one's footing momentarily. Not to dare is to lose oneself.”
~ Soren Kierkegaard (Danish philosopher and theologian, 1813 – 1855)


It was not morning yet.
The air was still cool, and the sky was still a boundless darkness, the edges of night melted into the world. I wondered briefly why it was so much chillier tonight.
“Did I wake you?” It was a low voice, smooth as the night sky.
I sat up, rubbing my eyes.
“You fell asleep,” Caleb said, smiling.
I yawned, feeling distinctly nestled in warmth. “Did I.”
“I knew you wouldn’t last long,” he said, still smiling.
There was a profound peace in the quietness surrounding us, the stillness within which the oft-missed elements stirred.
I only realised that I was leaning against Caleb, my head against his chest, after I snuggled slightly closer. His hand rested lightly on my arm.
“I’m sorry,” I blustered, hurrying to put some distance between us.
“It’s fine.”
“What time is it?” It bought me an opportunity to check if I had drooled all over myself.
“Five-ten.”
“Sorry, guess I’m not much company after all.”
“I’ve been up all alone almost every night for the past three years, Kristen,” he said, like it was obvious how silly an apology would be.
“What plans do you have for today?” I asked, just so we could move on from my embarrassment.
“I usually go for my run at five-thirty, and then I’ll go to The Old Belle –”
“Do you work there or something?”
“I help out whenever I can and I get paid, if that’s what you mean. Aunt Belle just insists upon it. She’d mail my paycheque here if I rejected it face-to-face.” He shook his head. “She can’t afford to pay anybody else; she’s barely surviving as it is.”
“So it’s just you and her holding up the bookstore?” When he nodded, I went on, “What about Oliver and Sawyer?”
“Grandpa’s more than happy to take that load of Aunt Belle. It keeps his mind off grandma.” Shrugging, he said, “It’s not like we get a lot of business, anyway. In fact, we get the opposite of it. We have, like, two regulars and some lost people and that’s about it.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. It sounded sad, but it felt rude to point that out.
“It’s a tragedy, I know.” He glanced sideways at me, as though telling me he knew what I was thinking. “Grandpa says it’s alright if Aunt Belle wants to give up the bookstore and pursue something else. But she knows how much it means to him; to shut it down for good…” He shook his head. “It’s kind of an inconceivable notion.”
“She doesn’t have to close down the bookstore,” I said.
“But she’s barely able to breathe.