Breach

It’s odd how uneasy I feel lying in my own bed with my back facing the empty space behind me. Though my eyes feel heavy, heavier than cinderblocks, they refuse to allow me to rest. My entire body is simply aching with the desire to dream yet I cannot force myself to do so. It’s strange because it wasn’t unusual for Jean and I to be apart while sleeping.

I found myself on the couch more often than in our own bed.

But here I am, alone and unable to sleep. I shut my eyes. I toss and turn, kick the sheets, throw the pillows, try sleeping with my head off the bed or my legs propped up on the head board but…nothing. Finally, I press my back to the headboard and stare into the room, just barely lit by the lights on the streets below.

Why am I so bothered by this?

My eyes slowly roll to look at the space next to me. For a moment I see Jean there, lying with her hair a complete mess, her hands curled up to her face while holding the blanket and eyes fluttering during her dream. I blink and the image is gone, replaced by the reality that she isn’t here. Again I can’t understand why I’m so bothered.

I suppose that it could be because although I wasn’t always in bed with her I knew she was there. Now Jean truly is gone and has no plans of coming back. Sighing, I slip back into bed, not caring that my feet are now sticking out from the blankets or that the bed is a complete mess thanks to my constant moving.

The only idea of forcing myself to sleep is to think of something, anything but Jean and this whole damn mess. At first nothing comes to mind. My life seems to be nothing but stress recently…but I suppose there is something or rather someone that isn’t stressful at the moment…

And with the thought of that in my mind I somehow drift into sleep.

~

“What the hell is this?” I stare, slightly dumbfounded, at the sight of Bishop sitting in the hall with his back pressed against my door and what appears to be a bag full of clothes beside him. At the sound of my voice Bishop presses pause on his iPod, removes his headphones and smiles childishly up at me.

He’s beaming as he says, “Welcome home sweetie.”

My brow twitches at this annoying brat. Honestly, why do I speak with him?

“What exactly are you doing outside my apartment on a Tuesday with what appears to be an overnight bag?” I step beside him to unlock the door. Once unlocked Bishop gets to his knees to open the door before crawling like a baby inside, dragging his bag beside him. He didn’t even ask if he was allowed in! Damn kids.

Bishop goes to the couch and hoists himself onto it. He bounces on the cushions, smiling as he does before finally deciding to answer my question, “You said your door was always open Annie.”

“I didn’t expect you to barge over so soon and stop calling me Annie.”

“You offered so prepare for the consequences.” Bishop then decides to move from the living to the kitchen where he proceeds to raid my fridge, searching for whatever his stomach is calling for. Speaking of stomachs, mine begins to growl when Bishop finds what appears to be some chicken lying in the fridge that I had planned to make today after work…

But once again I found myself staying behind longer than I was supposed to.

“Hungry?” Bishop chuckles, bringing out the chicken and placing it on the counter. “I figured you would be since it’s almost nine. When do you get off work anyways? I’ve been sitting in front of your apartment like a total creeper for nearly two hours!”

I roll my eyes at his whining. Before replying I move back to my room where I remove my tie and jacket, toss my brief case onto the bed and quickly change into some more comfortable clothes, like a pair of sweat pants and a baggy blue shirt. Once I reappear in the kitchen Bishop stares at me oddly.

“I’ve never seen you in normal people clothing. I kind of assumed you always wore a suit since you’re such a tight ass,” Bishop teases, sticking his tongue out afterwards. He then turns his attention back to dinner, which he must have begun making while I was changing.

Huffing, I take a seat at the island in the kitchen and watch on. “I get off work at five though it takes about twenty minutes to get here. I often stay later than I’m supposed to…though I guess I shouldn’t have to do that anymore with Jean being gone.”

“True that,” Bishop says with a nod of his head. “How do you feel about chicken alfredo?”

“You can cook?” I ask surprised.

Bishop faces me with a pout. “Why such a tone of disbelief? I told you my life story, didn’t I? Obviously I can cook and damn well I’ll have you know!”

“I believe I’ll be the judge of that so shut up and keep cooking.” What I said has Bishop whining childishly but he continues to go about the kitchen, occasionally asking me where something is. Once he starts I get up and leave to the living room where I sit on the couch and watch TV until Bishop calls me back.

“Here you go your majesty!” Bishop sets a steaming plate of chicken alfredo in front of me. He smiles and hops from one foot to the other, watching impatiently as I go to take a bite. Just to be an ass I hold it above the plate for a bit longer than necessary and very slowly bring it towards my mouth. The boy cries. “Take a damn bite already or I’ll feed the thing to you.”

Laughing, I finally take a bite and to my surprise I find it delicious. Nodding my head in approval I take another bite and ask, “Do you make your own sauce? I know this isn’t what I have.”

“Yeah,” says Bishop a little too proudly. He sits across from me and digs into his own plate. “I get bored sometimes and just make shit up. I’m glad you like it though. You should feel special, I’ve never let anyone try it before.”

Smirking, I ask sarcastically, “Aren’t I the lucky one?”

Bishop ignores my teasing to eat his food. Throughout the dinner we make small talk and afterwards I clean up since he had to cook. Bishop makes his way to the living room where he opens his bag to search for something. As he’s digging through his belongings I question him, “Why are you staying over tonight?”

Bishop doesn’t tear his eyes from the bag as he answers, “My father came home early for once but I noticed he had a bag from the liquor store with him. It’s rare for him to drink but when he does it ain’t pretty so I thought I’d come visit a different drunk instead.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“I know.” Bishop must have found what he was looking for because he makes a triumphant squeak and pulls out a pair of sweat pants and a wife beater. Frowning, Bishop mumbles almost inaudibly, “You…don’t mind that I’m over, right?”

I roll my eyes because…really, he’s asking that now? I reach over the couch to ruffle his hair. Bishop makes some sort of disapproving sound and swats my hand away. Smirking, I shrug my shoulders in response and reply, “I said my door was open, didn’t I? Just don’t come crawling into bed with me.”

“Like I would. Old men are smelly and gross.”

“I will kick you out.”