Chapter 9: Another Long Night

Emily sometimes wondered if she was wired differently or if her constant nightmares had messed with her mind so much that she no longer processed things the same. She had been released, which meant she got to go home early. But instead of feeling happy, Emily had felt like the walls were closing in on her. Home meant she would have to go to bed, that the nightmares would find her again. But home also meant her mother, and while Emily was always glad to spend time with her mom, spending time with her also meant feeling guilty over the fact that her mom thought she no longer had any sleeping problems. 'How did you sleep, sweetheart?' Her mom would ask sometimes, and Emily would reply without missing a beat. The practiced lie flows easily. 'Like a rock,' She would reply, the lie eating away at her. Even that evening, she had felt guilty. But she had still lied to Derek, selling him a fictional story about sleep that she would never get. But Derek was one of the countless people out there who enjoyed a good night's sleep. He could never understand what people like her went through. So she'd lied like she always did. Then she went home and lied some more. Smiling and laughing with her mother, all the while knowing that the older woman thought that Emily's sleeping problems were a thing of the past. But Emily consoled herself with the same fact that also filled her with great guilt. Her mother did not know that Emily was still suffering, so the woman did not have to constantly worry. They made dinner together, talking about this and that, and sometimes just breaking into random songs. The various utensils and vegetables act as temporary microphones. Their dinner was a simple affair, not something that you would find in top-class restaurants, but it was filling and made with love, so it more than hit the spot. Now dinner was over, the dishes washed and put away. It was late, she should have long started her ruse of sleeping, instead she sat on her living room couch, her mom's head pillowed on her lap. The older woman was fast asleep. Unaware of Emily, she gently untangled her hair. If anyone deserved a good night's rest, it was her mother. Jane Molson was a hard worker. Being a home caregiver was not an easy job, but she never once complained about it. Choosing instead to focus on the brighter side of things. So Emily did not mind being left to finish off the last of the movie on her own. As soon as her mother had dozed off, she had stopped watching, her focus on taking out the knots from the older woman's hair. Years of stress had turned the once dark brown locks mostly white, but the hair still retained the same soft texture Emily had loved since childhood, and as she worked, a sense of calm settled over her. Her mother's laugh lines were also more pronounced, but she still had a youthful spirit about her. Her eyes sparkled with mischief whenever she laughed. Emily was still looking down at her mom, and thinking of all how she had changed but somehow stayed the same, when she began to stir. Emily's bedtime was up; she was going to have to go to bed soon. "Is it over?" Her mom asked around a yawn, and Emily shrugged. "Not yet, but we can always finish it off tomorrow," She said, going for the remote when her mom rose. Shutting off the TV, she let out her most practiced and realistic yawn. "Besides, I am tired too, so I'll be turning in soon," The sleep was beginning to clear a bit from her mom's eyes, her brow furrowed as she took Emily in. "Are you sure you are alright?" Are you sure you are sleeping fine? She was asking. The pressure to just come out and confess was immense, but Emily had held on for years, and she continued to do so. "I am fine, Mom, honestly. Let's both go get some shut-eye," She said, doing her best to make it look natural, and not like she was running away. "Goodnight, sweetheart," Her mom called, and Emily paused at the threshold of her door. "Goodnight, Mom", She called back. Once in her room, she did not go straight to bed. Instead, she sat on the floor, her back against the wooden door, and stared at her room. The walls were painted a warm yellow, and decorated with dream catchers; the sheets on her bed, a warm green colour. Soft blankets and even softer pillows. Everything that was meant to make sweet dreams a forgone conclusion. But for her, nothing seemed to be working. She allowed herself just a moment to wallow, then she got up and got ready for bed. That night, she was drowning again. But this time the waters were filled with sand, and it rubbed her skin raw when she tried to get away. She woke up soundlessly, a single tear escaping her when she realized that she was in for yet another long night.