Rachel gives me a concerned look. “You seem even more tired than you were on the day of your last final!”

Biquette circles around me, licking my hand from time to time. She doesn’t seem to have too much trouble sleeping even if her schedule has been deranged by the baby, and her tail now wails happily against the back of my legs.

I hear my mom’s laugh echo all the way downstairs and I wonder what dad could possibly have done for her to crack up. She never thinks anything is funny except for my dad’s silly remarks, and even then it’s pretty rare. Maybe the tiredness is getting to her, too.

I sigh. Little Willy has been screaming all night. And the night before. And the one before that…

That baby never slept nor cried; it whined and yelled and sometimes even screeched all night. Maybe around ten to twelve in the morning you could get an adorable smile. Between twelve to five he was an angel, he then took a quick nap, and you forgave him for the night before. But every time, as soon as the sun rays hit the highest house of the neighborhood and its shadow covers the living room’s window, his temperament shifts from an end to the other.

And since I got home a week ago, he didn’t disappoint. Every. Single. Night. Obviously, my parents, wanting me to come back home, never warned me. I explain to Rachie how I’ve tried everything, but she looks at me in an overacted disbelief. “Earplugs? Soft background music? Screaming back at your brother?”

At least I can’t say she isn’t trying to help. I laugh along with her, assuring her that the third one definitely crossed my mind many times per night. The only thing that is really stopping me is my imminent death if my mom catches me as I’m doing so. I smile at the thought, removing my glasses to rub my eyes a bit.

“Maybe you could sleep over?”

Mme Kelly, Rachie’s mom, says I’m her second daughter and probably wouldn’t mind me spending a few nights. And we’re already used to sharing a room. I can see many reasons why I shouldn’t, but I convince myself I can do it. She’s got a large bed, I know we’ll both be sleeping in it just like when we were kids and everything was so… simple. But I’m willing to do a lot just for the possibility of maybe getting some sleep.

Rachie’s brows furrow a bit, and I realise my answer is taking too long to come. I reply with the first thing that comes to my mind. “You’d be an angel.”

She seems relieved, and I give her a small side hug so she doesn’t worry even more about me. The conversation diverges quickly, and my lack of sleep makes it hard for me to fully follow what she’s going on about.

***

I can hear the fan going on and about in the corner, complemented by the sound of the cars passing by with each blow of the wind on the loose curtains. The house creaks differently than mine, the room smells of Rachel. And all of the tiredness in the world doesn’t help me sleep.

Her presence used to calm me, but now I just can’t calm down. She’s laying right next to me yet I can’t reach her, and I know I never will be able to. I curl up in a ball, turning around so I’m facing the wall instead of her, feeling guilty by how much time I just spent watching her sleep on her side of the bed. Yet no matter how I try not to see her, no matter how shut my eyes are, she stays there behind my eyelids.

Even with my back to her, I can feel her there. Her steady breath, her occasional shifting through the sheets, her whole shape, just as a shadow haunting my sleep.

I dream about passing my hand through her wavy golden hair. Of breathing in the creak of her neck, of brushing a hand along her body, from her head down her waist before I pull her into a tight hug.

And it feels like she's so far. I could reach and touch her, but I care too much about her to do so. I just stay here in silence, with my heart trying to escape my chest. Pounding so hard, trying to get as far away as possible from her sheets.

I peak at her.

There’s a bit of drool on her pillow and I smile faintly. I want to wipe it off her face, but I hold back a sob instead. I just can’t take it anymore. I make my way to the bathroom, locking myself in, where I stay until the sun rises again. The wrongness of it all takes over me as I try to find an excuse as to why my eyes are so puffy, as to why I’m still so tired.

I wash my hands; I wash away the guilt. These hands that crave touching her, this body that wants to feel her warmth. I rinse my face and steal a bit of makeup from her to hide my dark circles. She’ll notice something is wrong if she sees me, but if I try enough to hide it she’ll hopefully get the message and leave me alone. Too ashamed to even talk to her, I escape through the front door a few minutes before her wake-up alarm, my hands red from the water.

And against what everyone expected, I pick William over Rachel for the following nights.