Short Story:
MY BEDTIME BUDDY
by Barbara Stanley
“I know I need something,” Anais said. “I won’t be able to stand it much longer.”
“I know what you need,” Leah said. “And it’s not in this store.” She laughed, held up a fleece blanket that was dyed a garish color of purple.
“Really, my neck and shoulders are killing me. It’s getting so that I dread waking up in the morning. I’m only thirty-six-—this is ridiculous.”
But Leah had drifted past Anais, down the aisle of U-Save Super Store, past poofy comforters, refined chenille throws, and 200-count percale sheets. If she heard Anais she did not respond. Three kids barreled down the broad aisle; their whooping shrieks made Anais’ ears ring. She shuddered. Thirty-six and single. Single as in unattached--no boyfriend, no husband, no kids. Right now it didn’t sound as bad as it usually did.
“Here it is,” Leah called. Anais caught a glimpse of a tan slender arm flapping around at the end of the aisle. A blond head bobbed above the merchandise. “Hey, check these out. This is what you’re looking for, isn’t it?”
It was. There at the end of the aisle, facing out to the main drag, was a huge wire basket display brimming with giant pillows. They looked like elongated marshmallows encased in plastic. A cardboard insert wrapped around each pillow, sporting a photo of a young woman snuggled up, blissful expression on her sleeping face. “My Bedtime Buddy,” the swirling letters announced. Bullet points along the side of the insert proclaimed the various benefits to the user--knee support, neck and shoulder alignment, dispersal of body heat via patented micro-fiber cover. Money-back guarantee. A smattering of stars encircled the price—-a reasonable $39.95. Anais could afford that. She would shell out ten times that much, just to get rid of the morning tightness.
Leah had already pulled one of the pillows out and was hefting it like a professional sumo wrestler. “Not bad,” she called out from behind the mass. “It’s squooshy.” Two thin brown arms snaked around from behind and squeezed the middle. “Oooooooh,” she sighed.
“Don’t take it out of the bag,” Anais pulled the bag from Leah’s grip and looked around, uneasy. She had heard that the employees here were hyper-vigilant, ready to bust you for opening a package or putting the napkins back in the wrong place. Not that Leah cared. She’d roll the pillow down the aisle with her top on backwards if she thought it would garner a look from customers.
Anais gave the pillow a tiny squeeze. It did feel good, she thought, squishy but firm at the same time—-like it wouldn’t give out soon or flatten with repeated use. If only it wasn’t so god-awful long—-at least six feet, Anais guessed. It looked like an enormous canoli wrapped in plastic.
Anais felt for her purse. After some fishing around in the depths she found her checkbook. “I’ll take it,” she said.
Afterwards Leah had trooped through the parking lot with the drooping pillow atop her head, singing “Hail to the Chief,” at the top of her lungs, and even Anais had to laugh.
That night Anais laid the pillow down the center of the bed. In the darkened room it looked more like a snake lying motionless in pale moonlight, ready to rear up and strike at any moment.
“There he is,” Leah sang out from the doorway, “Mr. Wonderful.”
“Very funny.” Anais was glad that the dim room hid her burning cheeks.
Leah had a way of turning innocent things into—-other things. They were unlikely roommates, brought together by the employee bulletin board at the Mid Coast MedCenter, where Leah worked as a medical aide and Anais toiled in medical records. Leah had just lost a roommate to nursing school and Anais had just lost her home, following the death of her invalid mother and lack of any estate plan--a two bedroom apartment and old beater Dodge comprising the estate.
“It can’t hurt,” Anais said, “It might help.”
She struggled into her flannel rose-print nightgown while listening to Leah chatter to her latest boyfriend on her cell. He was probably number thirty in Leah’s twenty-nine years. The pillow lay motionless on the bed, it’s contours molded down (by Leah) into a vague humanoid shape. For some reason Anais felt uneasy, like she was doing a striptease in front of the tube, while it watched her.
Pathetic, she scolded herself. Get to bed. Workday tomorrow.
She slid in between the covers, consciously avoiding touching the pillow. She stretched out on her back, staring at the ceiling. After a few moments the familiar ache began, starting at the base of her skull and radiating down the neck. If she didn’t do something soon, the pain would spread to her left shoulder, and the burning would guarantee another restless night.
She rolled towards the pillow and placed her left arm on the top. The pillow felt firm against her skin. Her arm began to relax, so she wiggled the rest of her body towards the pillow, resting her head on the surface. She didn’t quite have the nerve to snuggle against it. That was—-improper, somehow. Anais found that her neck actually began to relax. This might work after all. She closed her eyes and drifted off.
She woke in darkness, her heart jumping around in her chest. Someone was in bed with her-—she felt heavy weight slumped against her back. Though Anais was too scared to move, her mind leapt forward with physical impressions: Big. Solid. Cold. Very cold—-and limp, too, with no rising or falling breath. Anais had worked up the courage to scream when a flushing racket nearby made her jump. Leah again—-always forgetting to shut the bathroom door on her nightly trip. Anais turned her head and the dead body vanished, replaced by the lumpy contours of the pillow.
“Oh for God’s sake,’ Anais muttered, instantly contrite for swearing. She gave the pillow a punch and settled on her back again. Leah clattered down the hall, humming, before her bedroom door slapped shut. Once again the ache shot down Anais’ neck. With a disgusted sigh she rolled towards the pillow and had barely settled herself before she was asleep again.
“Are you alive in there?’ Leah shouted from behind the bedroom door.
Anais opened her eyes to brilliant sunshine and the instant awareness that she had overslept. A quick glance at her alarm clock confirmed it.
‘I’m up—-sorry!” she called to Leah. But Leah had already flapped down the hall.
She had just enough time for a two-minute shower and a twist-up for her hair. She added a dot of make up—-powder and lip-gloss really—-then took a second look in the mirror. Instead of her normal pallor, her face was flushed a delicate pink. Anais added a hint of the plum eye-shadow she had managed to dig out of Leah’s make-up basket—-her grey eyes looked quite vivid this morning.
Leah was sitting at the kitchen table, painting her nails, when Anais hurried in to get a gulp of juice. She looked up with a smirk.
“Weellll, don’t you look all chipper this morning. Who’s the lucky guy?”
“Button it,” Anais snapped, “I’m late, and yes, for once, I had a good night’s sleep.” She took a big swig of orange juice and swept out the door, leaving Leah to drip nail polish on the kitchen floor, jaw hanging open in surprise.
Anais sat at the wheel of the Dodge, tingling. Where had that come from? She was one who got teased or snarled at, not the other way around. Too uncomfortable to confront people, Anais found it easier to forgive and try to forget, just as she had with her mother. But today she did not feel guilty for being sharp with Leah. What business was it of hers was to make fun of Anais’ first good sleep in years? Leah could be quite thoughtless at times.
That day Anais got more work done than she had in weeks. She filed reams of loose documentation, lab slips, physician notes, in record time. She cleared up the knots in some outside correspondence with a nearby hospital, and even managed to capture the attention of her boss, a withered old matron given to walking past Anais without making eye contact.
“I’m happy to see we have one hard worker in the department,” the old prune said, pursing her lips into what Anais assumed was a smile.
Anais said nothing, merely smiled back and continued to work. She noticed for the first time how small and shrunken her supervisor was, how frail. Anais had five inches and thirty pounds on her, easy. She could snap her spine in a heartbeat, the old crow.
What a thought. Anais laughed out loud, noting the suspicious stares of her co-workers. Let ‘em gape. Unwed moms barely out of their teens-—what did she have in common with them? She finished the rest of her work with moments to spare and left without putting in any overtime, for a change.
That night Leah was gone from the apartment when Anais got home—-out with the boyfriend, she assumed. She was surprised to find a note on the kitchen table, held down with a fork:
Sorry about this morning, it read. Glad you’re feeling better. Out with Tony tonight, will be in late. Will be QUIET, promise.
---Lee
Anais blinked. Leah had never left a note before, let alone reported on her comings and goings. As for being quiet, well--Anais had her very own version of the adult channel, right down the hall, and Tony was even worse than Leah about bathroom privacy.
Anais fixed herself a spring salad for dinner. She wasn’t really very hungry tonight; she thrummed with energy from the productive day. She decided to spruce up the little apartment before reading her latest romance novel. In fact, she ended up doing two loads of wash, shaking out throw rugs, dusting and vacuuming the whole place. She finished up before neighbors above or below could complain.
The next time she looked at the clock it was ten-thirty.
“Time for bed,” she said to the pillow in her bedroom. Then she felt a little silly, talking to a lump of poly-fill.
This time she didn‘t feel so awkward about undressing, although she couldn’t quite bring herself to pull her shirt over her head in front of the pillow. She did hum a little tune to herself before sliding between the covers, and felt no embarrassment about lying next to the pillow tonight.
The next morning Anais woke with a start, again without the jangle of the alarm clock. She swiveled around to check the time—-was she late again? But no, the clock read 6:55AM, five minutes early. Once more she had gotten a great night’s sleep. The pillow still held the contours of her arms and legs. Anais rolled towards it, noting that it was no longer cold, but quite warm and yielding. She gave it an impulsive squeeze.
Tony was already in the kitchen, sitting at the table in a rumpled tee shirt and baggy chinos. His golden brown hair was a bedhead tangle. His silver earring flashed. Steam rose from the stoneware mug in his hand, misting over his green eyes.
“Have some coffee,” he gestured to Anais. “Looks like we’re the early birds this morning.” He flashed a gap-toothed grin. “You’re not a decaf person, are you?’
“Not at all, thanks,” Anais replied, taking a mug from the cabinet and pouring herself a cup. Normally she hid in her bedroom until the last minute, waiting for Leah and Tony to finish up. Then she’d shoot out to chomp some fast toast, bolt through the door after a terse “good morning,” and race down the hallway. She often heard the two of them laughing after the door closed.
“Lee’s still asleep,” he said, “She’s got the day off today—-restructuring of the department, or something.” He eyed Anais intently. ‘Don’t see you much in the mornings.”
Anais didn’t even blush-—her normal response. She’d almost forgotten that she was sitting here with her roommate’s boyfriend in only her nightgown, which had wound tight around her body when she sat down, exposing her curves.
So what, she thought. It’s my kitchen—-I pay the rent. He just sleeps here on occasion and makes a big mess. Anais sat taller, smoothing her hair.
“You didn’t used to anyway,” she said. She took a big sip of coffee, then smiled straight at Tony.
Tony didn’t even look surprised. He just chuckled and settled back in his chair. “All right,” was all he said.
He ended up fixing scrambled eggs with sausages and toast for the two of them, which they ate together amid easy chat. Once or twice he flashed his smile at her and she returned the grin. Anais wondered why she had been afraid of him before.
Because he’s so damn sexy and he knows it, she thought.
Leah was up by the time Anais was out of the shower, looking annoyed at the mess in the kitchen. Tony was on his third cup of coffee, looking oblivious to her mood.
“Thanks for waiting for me,” she muttered, not looking at Anais.
“Sorry,” Anais said while stepping out the door. “Thought you were sleeping in.” She got a glimpse of Leah’s glare at Tony before the door swung shut.
That day at work Anais scolded a coworker for misfiling a document. The girl started, blinking at Anais in surprise. It was all Anais could do to keep from laughing in her face. My bedtime buddy, she thought. I haven’t felt this good in years.
That evening Leah and Tony had a rip-snorting fight behind the flimsy door of Leah’s bedroom.
“You’re a selfish pig,” Leah screamed at Tony, “All you care about is yourself!”
‘Calm down,” Tony said in a bored voice. “You’re overreacting again.”
‘Oh really?” Leah’s voice was icicles.” Why don’t you talk it over with Anais, then? She’s so calm and reasonable.”
Tony didn’t answer her, just slammed out the door. But before it shut Anais thought she heard him say, “I just might,” under his breath.
Leah finally came out of her bedroom, stomping and banging her way around the apartment. She finally grabbed her cigarettes and stalked out for a smoke around ten-thirty, without a word to Anais.
Didn’t matter. Anais was glad for the peace and quiet. She could hardly believe that she might have been the cause of an argument between Leah and Tony. She’d always felt like such a---cipher—-before, especially around them.
Too bad, she said to herself, getting ready for bed later. She’d done nothing wrong, unless asserting yourself was wrongdoing.
Of course not, Anais thought, giving her pillow a pat. Tonight she had exchanged her nightgown for a loose pajama top. The flannel was much too warm for this evening.
That night Anais dreamed of floating, amid slashes and pops of color-—blues, purples, fiery reds-—swirling around and around a white glowing center. She felt herself spiral towards that center, warm and relaxed.
When she woke up later in darkness she wasn’t scared, she merely snuggled closer to the pillow, curling against its warm yielding mass. It had to be imagination or drowsiness, but the pillow seemed to curve towards her too, a gentle hand cupping her in the dark. Outside, she heard a lone mockingbird begin its song. Then she fell asleep.
That morning Anais woke to find the pillow bunched up under her breasts, supporting them like an uplift bra.
She looked at her contours in the bedroom mirror. A little uplift would do her good, she decided. Besides, where was the harm in enhancing what you’ve got? Anais could picture her mother’s bitter frown at the thought. Be content with what you’ve been given, was her mother’s attitude. Don’t call attention to your figure and you won’t ask for trouble. But her mother was dead now.
“My mother is dead,” Anais repeated aloud. That settled it. She went out and bought three uplift bras that evening after work.
Over the next several weeks Anais streamlined her cubicle, upgraded the filing system, and had a meeting with her boss about a potential raise. She also flirted with the maintenance supervisor and the really cute MRI tech that had recently been hired.
She found that once she discarded her baggy thrift store duds, she was a curvy size 6. And her supervisor didn’t frown at the snug fit of her new clothes. She actually grinned at Anais, showing a horrible row of brown, crooked teeth.
Note to myself, Anais thought. Do not make supervisor laugh.
Anais continued her morning chats with Tony, who was staying over more and more now, but Leah seemed to have gotten over her snit, joining them often for a group breakfast. Once or twice the three of them went to a movie together. But at odd moments Anais would catch Tony staring at her, a half smile on his face.
At night, she drifted among the blues and reds and purples—-spinning, blissful.
Then it happened. Anais supposed that she shouldn’t have been surprised—-the weekly stays, the boots piled near the doorway, the third toothbrush in the bathroom---all pointed in one direction.
“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” Leah said, “But these things happen. We looked for a place together but I’m really settled here. Besides, Tony will need the second bedroom to store his guitars. I’ll give you a month to find another place. You’re not mad, are you?”
“Not at all,” Anais answered. “Truth be told, I was considering a change for myself—-and this was never meant to be permanent, was it?”
Anais saw surprise and relief cross Leah’s face. Selfish little twit, she thought. I’ll be glad to be rid of you. She’d already seen an ad for a roomy studio near the clinic and Oak Creek Park.
At work the MRI tech chatted Anais up during break, feeling out her preferences for restaurants and movies. He was on the verge of asking her out, she thought. If Anais timed it right, she might be in the studio by then. She had already scheduled an appointment for an interview and a walk-through on Saturday.
When she got home that evening, the apartment was silent. Tony was nowhere to be found. The living room held the detritus of Leah’s life-—matches, candy wrappers, crumbs and soggy tissues--she never cleaned up before going out. Anais decided to head out for some quick Schezuan (the MRI tech’s favorite) and maybe deal with the mess later. She had a new silk top and capris in her closet—-you never knew who you might run into at dinner on Friday night.
The door to her bedroom was ajar. Anais remembered closing it that morning—-a pointed reminder to Leah not to come in and “borrow” stuff. Things had a way of disappearing after Leah was done with them. What have I lost now, Anais wondered.
She stepped through the doorway then froze, eyes wide in disbelief. Leah lay upon her bed, sound asleep, lips curved upward in a languid smile. Her golden hair splayed around the coverlet, haloing her head. She looked like the girl on the cardboard insert. She looked like an angel. And the bedtime buddy, Anais’ bedtime buddy, was curved against Leah’s body in a perfect fit, smooth and caressing as a lover. All that was missing was the swirl of stars.
No!
In three steps Anais reached the bed and yanked the pillow from Leah’s body.
“Hey…wha? What time is it?” Leah rubbed her eyes. “Oh.” She sat up, silly grin on her face. “Um, I was tired,” she said, as if that was an acceptable explanation.
“Get out of my room.” Anais barely recognized her own voice.
“Oh come on, it’s not that big of a deal.” Leah said. She arched her back and stretched. “Can’t we share him? I think he likes me. Look.” She stood on the bed and pulled the pillow up between her thighs, where it drooped like a giant...thing that Anais didn’t want to think about. “Ooohh baybee,” Leah said, grinding her hips.
Anais grabbed for the pillow once more and managed to pull it away from Leah’s thighs. Leah wobbled and fell backwards, clanking against the headboard on her way down.
“What’s your problem?” Leah said. She sat up, unsteady, and rubbed the back of her head. “It’s just a stupid pillow.” She cradled the pillow to her chest and looked up at Anais with narrowed eyes. “You know, this is as close to a man as you’ll ever get. You’re…“
But Anais did not hear the rest. Slashes of purple and blue had begun to spin around her, and when Anais moved towards Leah, the dazzling curtain of red descended. She heard a muffled cry just as the glowing white center appeared before her. The center expanded, brilliant, then shrunk--to a narrow tube of white, about a foot and a half wide and six feet long.
When Anais next blinked her eyes, she found herself on top of the bedtime buddy, straddling it. Her knees pinned down Leah’s arms underneath. Her hands pressed into the pillow, right over Leah’s face. Yellow tendrils trailed out from under the pillow. But Leah did not move.
Anais pulled her hands away and sat back on the pillow, feeling the give of the body underneath. She twisted Leah’s right arm up, then let it go. It flopped back on the bed without grace or ceremony. Anais pulled the top half of the pillow away from her roommate’s face. Leah’s eyes looked back with a dull blue gaze. Her mouth hung slack, pillow crease on her cheek. Anais held her face over Leah’s open mouth. She caught the fruity scent of Leah’s hair, but the air in between them was still.
“My mother’s dead,” Anais said, then frowned. She had to stop talking to herself.
Anais hooked her arms under Leah’s shoulders and yanked. Leah proved to be considerably heavier than her thin frame suggested. Her head lolled, her fingernails snagged on the bedspread as Anais struggled to move her. She had just gotten the top half of Leah to the floor when the bottom half lurched over, in a demented somersault. She managed to lower Leah all the way to the floor with only a minor thunk at the end.
Cobwebs under the bed--dust bunnies too. Leah would be right at home here. Anais gave Leah a mighty shove and managed to push her body further under the bed. Leah’s head rolled to the right and bent towards her shoulder in a post mortem shrug. Her eyes stared at Anais, as if to ask, “Why?”
Why did you do this?
Why am I under the bed?
And, most important:
Why aren’t you horrified at what you’ve just done?
“I don’t know,” Anais answered, “But it’s my pillow.”
In fact, she had no feelings at all except for a profound and total exhaustion. Anais knew that she should get up, eat, think through what she was going to do next. But all her shoulds crumbled to nothing when Anais sat back down on her bed. She flopped backward into a black and solid sleep.
Uh, hey. You awake? Hey, ‘Neese.” Tony’s voice slurred as he banged against Anais’ door.
Anais sat upright, instantly awake. Her little clock blinked 2:25 AM.
“You know where Lee is?” Tony continued. The doorknob rattled and began to turn.
“She’s not here,” Anais called. “She’s out-—with Terri, I think. I don’t know where they went.” Her neck throbbed. She’d have to jump out of bed to keep Tony from opening the door.
There was silence, and the doorknob stopped rattling. Anais could imagine Tony scratching his chin in beery reflection, trying to assimilate this information.
“Uh, tell her I’m going to Rick’s,” he said. “I’ll see her later.” Anais heard another voice murmur behind Tony, followed by a deep masculine laugh.
“Tell her to bring Terri.”
“I’ll tell her.” Anais answered. Two pairs of boots clumped back down the hall and out the front door.
Anais lay back down on the bed. Her neck was on fire now, her shoulders beginning to go. She scowled at the pillow lying near the edge of the bed. With a grunt she yanked it to the middle. She ran her hands over the cool surface, brushing stray threads away. “Traitor,” she said. She pulled at the threads, ready to flick them off, when they caught the moonlight, glowing gold.
Leah.
Anais sat for a moment, looking at the strands of hair. Then she exploded—-punching, pounding, smashing the pillow-—until her arms gave out and her hands were aching and swollen. She sat next to the pillow, shaking and panting, taking in deep breaths to calm her racing heartbeat.
Her shoulders hurt so bad it brought tears to her eyes. Her neck was a rod of fire. Anais glared at the pillow. No sleep for her now and nothing to be done about it.
Nothing--except give in.
Anais lay down and rolled towards the pillow, tears of rage streaking her cheeks. She slammed her arm down the top and thumped her head against it, snuffling. At once the pillow’s cool surface soothed her hot face, while its soft length cradled her neck and shoulders. Her muscles began to loosen. The tension drained away, and just before Anais dozed off, she felt—-she was sure of it-—the pillow curve against her, molding to her body.
*****
The blue jewel of the Pacific winked and glittered at Anais as the train sped north to San Francisco. She drowsed in the sunlight that poured through the window. In a hidden pocket was the sum of her life savings, drawn from the ATM that morning. Across from her sat a chummy older gentleman, frisky grin on his face. He was headed for the same city, Anais had discovered, and the same expensive hotel room, she had just decided. She might spend a day or two there on his tab. She might wander the galleries of Tiburon, or gaze at Sausalito houseboats. The San Francisco airport, with its multiple destinations, also beckoned.
Her neck ached, just a tiny bit. Didn’t matter. Her buddy, the bedtime buddy, was snugged into a generous carry bag, and all around her blazed the bright white sun of bliss, and endless possibilities.
About the Author:
Barbara Stanley pens stories of the dark side while living in the California sunshine. Her fiction had appeared in SHOTS, Thuglit, A Cruel World, the annual SubNatural, and the Thou Shalt Not anthology, among others.