Page 144 - Where the Dream Ends ebook

Marc Erdrich

With the big toenail of his left foot Harry scratched at the
bites covering his right leg. (Another mental note: check out
the cost of patches for mosquito netting.) With his left hand he
reached out and patted his wife gently on the buttocks. From
an instinctiveness born of years of intimacy, she snuggled clos-
er to him without waking up.

He chided himself for having drunk coffee so late, especial-
ly that strong “island” blend. Black, too. Not two, but three
cups. Harry was at an age when he couldn’t have anything to
drink after nine-thirty without inviting a middle-of-the-night
wakeup call. If it weren’t for the coffee, he probably could have
gone back to sleep. Now, he would most likely twist and turn
fitfully until daybreak.

He lay quietly for several minutes, staring into the dark-
ness, stroking his wife’s rump with one hand and himself with
the other, until it was no use. He had to go to the bathroom.

Gently, so as not to awaken his wife, he turned onto his left
side, pressing his hand against her thigh so she wouldn’t try to
burrow into him as he got out of bed. They usually slept front
to back, and invariably when one of them turned so did the
other. When he was sure she was still asleep, he raised the mos-
quito netting, bending forward as he bowed out from under
it, then draped it behind him and sat silently on the edge of the
bed, naked, the mesh hanging loosely over his back and shoul-
ders. He reached over to the bed table with his left hand and
felt about for his glasses, making a ruckus that nearly woke his
wife. He sat motionless until he was sure she was still asleep,
then put his glasses on and stood up, taking several cautious
steps toward the door. The mosquito netting caught the breeze
and drifted silently back onto the bed.

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