Song #59: Charlotte Martin - Steel (off On Your Shore - 2004)
Emily Chen gasped as she opened her eyes, her whole body shivering as though a single droplet of water had run from her cranium down her spine to the waistband of her cotton panties, the only clothes she wore. She continued to lie prostrate in an attempt to appear still asleep. Her eyes were wide in shock and sadness, and though she knew her bedmate hadn’t been disturbed she would not turn to face him. She faced the wall with her back to Malachi, the way she always did when she spent the night. Mal always started the night with his arm around her (commenting that she was just tiny enough to fit perfectly) but consistently woke up on the other side of the bed with all the blankets. Emily never said anything, opting instead to tug softly on a corner of the sheets until she had enough to warm herself.
She stared at the wall, trying to recall the details of the dream that had literally taken her breath away. Mal’s wall was cheap taupe-painted stucco and the whole room reeked of potting dirt and marshmallows and sex, though the pair could only account for that last one. She closed her eyes and scenes from her nightmare flooded back… coldness and nothingness and that sinister prediction… She shook her short black hair (a new look to which she hadn’t yet become accustomed) and reached over to Malachi’s side, grabbing her share of the covers and pulling them over her shoulder. She didn’t dare turn her body over, though it would have made covering it with the blanket much easier. She hated looking at Malachi while he slept – so serene and nonchalant, as if to taunt insomniac Emily. She had never slept for more than an hour at a time at Mal’s apartment.
Of course, she had never mentioned to Mal that those nights spent in his big double bed were restless and resentful. When his alarm clock blared its fuzzy between-station din each morning at 5:20, she exhaustedly praised it and would slump out of his bed and into the shower. Malachi slept through the first half hour almost invariably, mumbling to Emily if she wanted him to walk her to work or not. The correct answer was always no, and both acted satisfied with this routine. Mal would continue his peaceful sleep until 8:30, when he’d wake up for class. By the time he arrived to his lecture, Emily had already been working for two hours, functioning on insecurity and high doses of caffeine.
