Last night he woke me up. He had his hand on my shoulder, squeezing real hard, and he said, “Charlie’s out there. This place is fuckin’ crawling with Charlie.” I touched his hand and he let go. Then I turned towards him and smelled his sweat.“Everything’s fine, babe. I’m here. Everything’s fine,” I said. I kissed his cheek and tasted the salt. Then he put his arms around me and curled up his legs, said into my breasts, “Fuck ’em.”I get up first, go to the bathroom and pee. I finish, then flush, and I know he’ll wake up with just that little sound. I pull my hair back and hold it with one hand while I brush my teeth. Then I rinse out my mouth and avoid the mirror as I put the towel to my face.I turn on the radio in the kitchen, keep it low because it’s rock and because I want to hear him when he gets up. It was bad last night and I don’t know if he’s going to wake up numb, if he’ll come into his day feeling nothing about everything, looking at me with the eyes you use on a stranger.I break the eggs into the bowl of milk, beat them with a fork, then melt the butter and get the bread, dip two slices and lay them flat and sizzling into the skillet.
