Their Days of Nights

19 : Memory

Kimberly

I open my eyes.

I'm facing the wall, but there's a narrow window high up on it, so I'm not in room 501. Oh, right, I'm somewhere else. It's looking bright over there. I believe it's still the middle of the day.

And I need to pee.

I move and lie on my back. I get up to a sitting position and fold my legs under the thin white blanket. But this isn't the room that I'm sharing with Aya. And I almost hit the back of my head on the concrete, startled, the second I see Benjie sleeping on the pull-out below.

He's lying on his side, with an arm under the pillow, and the left side of his face resting on it. His other arm forms a right angle on the space separating where he is and where I'm at. And his legs are stretched down to the end of the bed. He looks peacefully asleep.

But why am I here?

Wait.

Except for my complaining bladder, I don't feel anything wrong, sore, or weird. I'm in the same complete set of clothes from the last time I can remember hours ago. I breathe out. Then I look down at him again, and nothing's changed.

I glance around the room, suddenly realizing that I'm not supposed to be in here. And I don't think getting out is going to be easy. The room is small, just wide enough to fit the bed. The only way I can reach the door is to set foot on that pull-out where Benjie is occupying about eighty percent. And I don't want to wake him. It feels illegal to do so with him looking so pristine.

But I really need to pee.

I throw the blanket to the side and move surreptitiously to the foot of the bed. I have to be quick and not lose balance to get past this obstacle course and escape—whatever this is.

One foot down, then the other between his legs. And of course, I lose balance after the last step, but I dive front down on the floor with my hands and only make the slightest of sound.

He doesn't move, so that's good.

I see my slippers next to his bag and grab them. I stand up and head for the door. And I try my best to carefully twist the knob, holding the lock, so it wouldn't audibly click.

But I shut my eyes, nearly squeal, and stay immobile for a split second as I hear his deep and sleepy voice.

"Where are you going?"

He's half-sitting, half-lying; his hair disheveled, and his face baffled.

There goes my attempt at trying to be unobtrusive.

"To the bathroom," I whisper. "Go back to sleep."

"Oh-kay," he says with a yawn.

He's lying down again when I get out and close the door. Then I let out a sigh.

It's three forty-five p.m. on the clock in the dining room. It's quiet in the house. Nick is lying face down on the couch in the living room, with what appears to be drool falling down his mouth and to the throw pillow beneath his cheek. Kristina should advise the caretaker of this place to disinfect those cushions after we leave.

I go upstairs and run toward the bathroom down the hall.

Aya is sound asleep when I creep into the room. I dig through my bag first for my phone, place it next to the pillow on the bed, and lie down on my back. I close my eyes, though I don't feel the slightest touch of the intention to go back to sleep.

*

The house is alive again at eight this evening. I hear footsteps and voices from the hallway. It sounds like Kristina is having another silly argument with Lee, and Diego is also out there interfering, so she's raising her voice a little once more. But they're laughing now. They're just being playful, I guess.