Page 24 of The Devil You Know
“I just…” I frown at him in the dark of our bedroom. “When you came to bed, you woke me up. And now I can’t sleep.”
“Oh.” Ben yawns. “Sorry.”
“Do you really need to wake me up every time you come to bed?”
“I wasn’ttryingto wake you up,” he says sheepishly. “I just wanted to cuddle.”
“Yeah, but you see why that would wake me up, right?”
He yawns again. “Okay, fine. I’m sorry.”
I lift my head up from the pillow and drop it down hard in frustration. “And now I can’t sleep.”
“I said I’m sorry.” He squints at me. “I was just trying to cuddle with my wife. I don’t know why that’s so awful.”
“You should just…” I kick my feet against the blanket, which feels stifling on my legs. “You should cuddle with a pillow. There are like five extra pillows in the closet.”
Ben stares at me. “Fine,” he says through his teeth. “I will cuddle with a pillow from now on. I’ll never try to cuddle with you again. I’m a monster.”
I sigh. “Now you’re trying to make me feel guilty. I mean, I just want tosleep. That’s all.”
Ben gets up out of bed. He’s wearing nothing but his boxers, and I can see the subtle definition of the muscles in his arms and chest that tighten as he yanks open the closet door and pulls out a pillow. He marches back to our bed, drops down beside me, and turns so that he’s facing in the other direction.
“Good night,” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer.
Chapter 9
I’ve got a terrible case of glitter today.
Don’t laugh. Glitter is a very real affliction. More people’s lives are affected by glitter than by stroke and heart diseasecombined.
Glitter is just like herpes. It’s not dangerous or deadly, but it’ssuperannoying. You think it’s just in one place, but then it spreads to other places. Most of the time, you’re not even sure where it came from. But once you’ve got it, it’s nearly impossible to get rid of. And you can give it to anyone you have contact with. Even if you justtouchthem. So really, it’sworsethan herpes.
I mean, not that I’ve ever had herpes or anything. But I’ve heard stories. You know.
With a little girl in the house, we’re always in danger of a glitter attack. On one occasion, Leah must have stuffed some glitter in one of her pockets, because when I did the laundry, all of our clothing was covered in glitter. I remember Ben holding up one of his white dress shirts for work with a horrified look on his face when he saw it wascovered in shiny specks.I can’t go to work dressed like Beyonce!
This morning, I know exactly how I contracted my case of glitter. Leah brought home a baggie of glitter from preschool, and she decided to do a project with it in the wee hours of the morning. By the time I discovered what was going on, there was glitter all over the floor of her room. I attempted to clean it up, but I was already dressed for work, so not only did I barely make a dent in our glitter infestation, I ended upcatching glitter.
So during my entire drive to work, I’m busy brushing glitter off my slacks. To the point where I nearly crash my car dealing with this stupid glitter. Seriously, it is freakingeverywhere. This is the worst.
When I get into the elevator, I give George the Elevator Guy an enthusiastic hello. George nods in my direction, looking critically at my glitter-stained clothing. I should have changed my clothes while I still had a chance.
As we approach the sixth floor, George looks down at the ground where I was standing. He frowns at me. “You got glitter all over the floor.”
I look down. He’s right. There must have been a glitter pocket trapped in the sole of my shoe, because there’s now glitter all over the floor of the elevator. I’m telling you—worse than herpes.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
He raises his eyebrows at me. “Aren’t you going to clean that up?”
We reach the sixth floor and the doors to the elevator open up. This is my floor, but George is still staring at me expectantly. Does he really think I’m going to clean the floor of the elevator? I mean, I don’t want to sound like a diva or anything, but is he kidding me? I work here as adoctor.
Maybe George doesn’t realize I’m a doctor. Even though I do walk around with an ID badge that says “PHYSICIAN” in big black block letters. Maybe he thinks I have some sort of housekeeping job at the hospital.
“You know, I’m a doctor,” I tell him.
