s t r a n g e cousin susan

She woke up out of a dead sleep, as only a mother can when her child is crying, even when the child is upstairs in its room with the door closed. “Wha…?” she noised, confused for a moment because she felt trapped; when she realized her back was pressed up against the couch and her husband was a dead weight in her arms, she struggled to sit up between them. She barely succeeded and had to hook her free arm over the back of the couch to pull herself up.

Her husband stirred in front of her. “What is it?” he asked groggily. “Are you all right?”

“It’s the baby,” she replied and cocked her head in the direction of his cries. “Do you hear him crying?”

“He’s not crying,” he said. “I don’t hear a thing.”

She looked towards the stairs. “Naturally,” she retorted. “What man ever hears his child crying in the middle of the night?”

“He’s sleeping, probably dreaming about whatever it is babies dream about. Just lie back down and close your eyes and go back to sleep.” he said.

She wiggled impatiently behind him. “Will you please move? I have to check on him.”

He sighed petulantly, sitting up and reaching for his boxer shorts. “You stay where you are. I’ll go.”

“You don’t have to,” she replied, grateful when she no longer felt trapped on the couch. She touched the small of her husband’s back and smiled in the darkness. “But thank you.”

He smiled to himself and stood up, then pulled up his shorts. “I know I don’t have to,” he said and switched on the lamp next to the couch to its dimmest setting. Husband and wife squinted in the sudden and subdued brightness flooding the room and both groaned. “Yes, I had to do that,” he said before she could say a word. “Unless you want me tripping on your stacks of books and laundry and then falling up the stairs.”

“I wasn’t going to say a word,” she said sweetly as she laid down and looked at him.

“Mmm, I’m not sure I believe that for a second,” he replied, studying her in the lamplight; when she shivered a little, he pulled the blanket over her naked body and smiled. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said. “It’s the least I can do.” A wail came from the baby’s room and he looked towards the sound quickly. “Do you think he’s hungry?”

“How am I supposed to know?” she asked and he shrugged. “Go on and see to the baby. I’ll keep the couch warm for you,” she replied in a softer tone, grabbing his hand and kissing his palm.

“Why don’t you come upstairs and warm up the bed for me, instead? We’re far too old to be sleeping on this lumpy couch all night, don’t you think?”

“We’ve done all right so far,” she replied, her eyes popping open when the baby’s cries got louder. “Anyway, who said anything about sleeping when you get back?”