The trash bag moves slightly, and I realize it is a gigantic beetle curled up and trying to hide from me by looking like a trash bag. Its legs are curled up tight around its body. I am not afraid. I am annoyed. In the dream, I cry, “Hey! You! Quit hiding, I can see you!” “Charlie, who are you talking to now?” I pretend to still be asleep, sensing that Clara is now sitting up beside me in her bed. She gives my shoulder a gentle shake. “Who’s hiding, Charlie?” I fake a soft snore. After a moment, Clara gives up and snuggles back in beside me. I am sleeping in her bed regularly now that my cast is off. It is the most wonderful thing, feeling her small perfect legs against my big hairy legs. My right ankle is still slightly sore, and she is always careful not to bump it. Maybe this is going to work, I think as I drift off. Maybe this will keep going even after my injury is healed. Clara comes home from work that same day and tells me something that causes a meltdown. We are facing each other in the kitchen, and I am furious.
