Sarah - Restless

From last time ...

"Listen. You don't feel it when you take a good shot, but you're still taking a beating. Five will be enough for today. Otherwise, you won't be able to move tomorrow."

"Okay, Mackey. You win. Just five. Call the wind."

And now ...

Sarah lay in bed, feeling all the muscles in her shoulder and back as they complained of the mistreatment of the day. She couldn't get comfortable.

She threw on some shorts and a shirt and walked outside. She felt, not for the first time, the shock of the desert's contrast - so damn hot during the day, so damn cold at night. She went back in the house.

She tried laying down again. She just couldn't get comfortable. She considered a shot of booze from the kitchen, but then thought better of it. I'd rather not fly tomorrow getting over a little toot. Damned insomnia.

She lay on her back, hands clasped under her head, feet crossed at the ankles, and stared at the ceiling. And stared. And stared.

A silence enveloped her, and slowly, then, came the sound of engines, engines she recognized, a sound familiar, and dimly she could see the cabin and the blond headed young man sitting two rows back from the front of the plane and she seemed to float along the aisle toward him and she stopped and asked if he would like something to drink and he said yes, that he'd like a coffee black but he didn't look at her and suddenly his hand shot out and grabbed her thigh and she WOKE UP!

She was sitting bolt upright and sweating.

"Jesus. What the hell was that?"

She got up out of bed and walked into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of milk. She picked it up, and watched the glass shake with the tremors in her hand.

"Okay. Either I'm really horny or I'm going through menopause."

She looked up at the clock on the wall.

"Two in the morning? Great. And my plane is at 9. I need some sleep."

She rinsed out her glass and went back to bed.

She got under the covers and pulled the blanket up under her chin.

"Good night, Kid. Leave me alone. I need some sleep."


"You look like hell."

"Why thank you, Mr. Two Feathers. You're not too lovely first thing in the morning either."

"What the matter? Trouble sleeping?"

"What say you get me to the airport, Billy. My sleeping problems have nothing to do with you."

"Yes, Ma'am. Anything you say, Ma'am. With alacrity, Ma'am."

Sarah laughed.

"Alright. Sorry. Yes, I had trouble sleeping last night. I'm sore from working with Mackey's Springfield yesterday. Damn thing really kind of beat me up."

"Well, comb your hair, put on some lipstick, you'll look just fine."

"My hair IS combed. And I don't wear lipstick and you know it. Drive, Indian, before I scalp your ass."

"Yes, Ma'am. Anything you say, Ma'am. Speedily, Ma'am?"

Sarah laughed again. "Yes, Billy. Speedily."


Loraine said...

Yay! Sarah! Always a pleasure to read.

Big Mark 243 said...

Not the week of but the week before the week of a fight I would have nights like this. Sore from training and fed up with the grind of working hard and adding spackle to my confidence all along. Oh, not to mention having abstained from certain activities only added to the intensity of the feeling ...

I guess I am trying to say that I can feel what Sarah is going through as she preps for her big shot!

Tara R. said...

Throwing another twist into the story? What does the dream mean?