Demon

Timothy

Natalie starts with a report on the Jonathan Project when I get to her house, first thing Saturday morning. “He still keeps getting better. Angel says that his soul looks much healthier. He is acting like a normal person now, and he says that he hasn’t noticed anything that would seem like Demon is back.”

“Who knows,” Gabe says, “maybe he’ll never come back. Jonathan seems fine, maybe we shouldn’t want Demon to return.”

Natalie says, “Angel doesn’t think that he’ll stay away forever. He says that he is still around somewhere, since he is tied to Jonathan’s soul. We just don’t know when he’ll come back or what will happen when he does.”

“Well,” I say, “I think you’ve done a good job preparing Jonathan for that. He knows to be aware of his feelings so that he’ll be able to tell if Demon is trying to take control again. I think the Jonathan Project is going well.”

Natalie says, “And you are okay being around him now, too. I’m really glad about that. I’d hate to have to only be with one of you.”

I shrug. “Yeah. He’s not bad to be around any more, now that he has stopped teasing me. He actually can be kind of fun sometimes. He’s good at building Lego sets.”

Gabe grins. “Look at us all getting along together, thanks to The Great Natalie!”

She rolls her eyes.

I take a few notes in my notebook about the Jonathan Project. I’ve started using a chart that I made to check off all the questions that I know she asks him at the end of every week, about whether he is feeling Demon.

“So,” she asks me when I’m done and put the notebook down, “how are things over at your place? Did you see the renters after they moved in?”

“Yes. It is extremely strange to have somebody other than you guys living in your house.” I sigh. I know I see Natalie almost every day, but I liked having her living closer to me.

“What are they like?” Gabe asks.

“It’s two grown up guys. Room mates. Mom said that they moved in while I was at school, but I saw them later going back and forth to their cars. I don’t think they had enough stuff that they needed a big truck to move.”

“That makes sense,” Gabe says, “since we left all our furniture there for them. They wouldn’t need to move big stuff in. I agree about it being weird. Other people living in our house. Freaky.”

“Do they seem nice?” Natalie asks.

“I don’t know. My Dad went and talked to them, and said that he thought they were going to be okay neighbors.”

“No kids for you to play with, though,” Natalie says.

I stare at her. Why would I want other kids to play with?

She laughs and shakes her head. “Well, want to go over to Jonathan’s for a while? I want to see Socks.”

Michael

I’m sorry that Laura misses Brenda living next door, but the new neighbors seem pretty chill. I got the chance to talk to them yesterday. They’re a bit younger than us, probably in their early twenties. They told me that they were high school friends, and they work at the same construction company. One of them just broke up with his girlfriend and needed to find a new place to live, so they decided to rent a place together.

After I drop Timothy off at his friend’s house, I head in to work. I feel bleary with fatigue. I’m just getting used to the feeling of constant exhaustion. Every night I wake up with nightmares. Every fucking night. Last night was especially bad, and when I jerked awake I think I actually hit Laura. She didn’t say anything about it this morning though, and I hate to bring it up just in case I’m wrong. She just looked at me with her blue eyes full of concern.

That’s what’s killing me more than anything. That this is so hard on her. I can tell that she is just eaten up with worry about me. Every time I wake her up I feel that much guiltier about how disruptive I’m being. I think a few times I’ve even made so much noise that the kid woke up too.

I have no control over it. It’s even happening more often during the day, where I hear some noise and it triggers this giant adrenaline fight or flight response. It’s not even like I’m remembering actual combat that I participated in. It’s just images of bombs dropping, the bombs that I helped deploy in Afghanistan. My crazy brain keeps putting me there on the receiving end.

I’d give anything for an actual night of sleep. For me and for Laura.

Laura

Saturday morning shift at the salon. I’m on my third haircut, and am trying as hard as I can not to let on that I feel half dead on my feet. I wrap the nylon cape around my customer’s neck and lead her over to the sink so I can wash her hair.

What I wouldn’t give to feel rested again. This is worse than when Timothy was a newborn and I couldn’t sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time. With a baby, you might be exhausted, but you know there’s a purpose to it, and you know how to take care of the kid when he wakes up in the night.

With Michael, I have no idea what I should be doing. I’ve tried everything I can think of. I even suggested that perhaps he would sleep better if I went and slept on the couch downstairs, but he wouldn’t hear of it. No, he told me, he’s pretty sure that being next to me is actually helping.

Man, if that is helping, I’d hate to see how bad it would be otherwise.

I lean the chair back up from the sink and ask her to come on back over to my station. I start clipping up sections of her hair before I begin cutting. I ask her if she has any plans for the weekend, but I’m afraid I’m not concentrating on her answer.

It’s every night. We haven’t had a single full night of peace. I’m starting to worry that he’s going to give himself a heart attack someday, jumping out of bed like he’s being pursued by the devil himself.

There have even been a couple of times that he acted the same way right in the middle of the day. It’s been very scary. Last week I dropped something I was carrying in the kitchen, while he was sitting at the table, and he leapt to his feet so fast that his chair crashed to the ground. It took him a couple of minutes to calm down. It’s like he didn’t know where he was, like he felt like there was some threat. Thank god Timothy was at school at the time.

I pump the salon chair up a little higher with my foot. “Ok, tilt your head forward please,” I tell her, and start cutting the hair on the back of her head.

I’m starting to feel desperate. And I’m wondering if there is anything the Navy could do to help. I’m scared to do it, for fear it would upset him, but I’m trying to figure out how to suggest to him that he should see a doctor. Some kind of therapist. This situation is really unhealthy, and I am afraid it is deteriorating. I think he needs help. Help that I haven’t been able to provide.

Michael’s

It is deeply distressing. Nothing I can do penetrates the chaotic cloud that fills his mind. He has managed to continue functioning, both at home and at work, but I fear that this is not sustainable. His emotional suffering, and his lack of sleep, have seriously impacted his physical well-being. He has drifted off to sleep at work several times, and even once or twice while behind the wheel of his car. He awakens after a second or two and there has been no serious consequence, but I know that if this continues there will inevitably be an accident.

His wife has begun considering whether to suggest that he consult a doctor to ask for help. She does not know that he has already attempted this. A few weeks ago he had an appointment with the doctor on board the ship, mentioning that he was having trouble sleeping, and was having nightmares related to combat. However, because my beloved was not directly involved in physical combat, the symptoms were not considered to be caused by his military service, and therefore no treatment was suggested other than typical suggestions to better tend to his diet and exercise routines.

In an effort to enact this advice, he has begun taking nighttime walks around the neighborhood. He is hopeful that this will help him sleep better, but as of yet there has been no improvement.

This evening is no different. The family eats dinner together. Timothy retires to his room to read before bedtime.

Michael puts on his shoes. “I’m going to go take a walk,” he tells his wife.

“Okay, honey, have a nice walk,” she replies, giving him a kiss, then looking into his eyes with the deep love and concern that she feels for him.

It is fully dark outside. He walks through the complex to the street, lifting the collar of his jacket against the chill of the February night. The cool air feels good on his face. He contemplates his conflicting feelings about his wife. He loves her deeply, and appreciates her love for him, but he begins to feel suffocated by her constant ineffective attempts to help him. Her love is overwhelming at times, and it makes him feel unworthy for her to be trying so hard to help him.

“My darling, you are indeed deeply worthy of the love of your wife. Please, enjoy this walk, let the exercise in the cool night clear your head, and make you ready for sleep. My dearest, I am with you together in your struggle.”

After he begins to feel physically fatigued, he turns around and heads back towards his home. He passes by the home next door, where the new tenants have recently moved in. He sees through the open curtains that the two young men are within, watching television, laughing and apparently greatly enjoying themselves.

He hesitates, watching the appealing scene through the window. He does not wish to face his wife yet, to see the worry and concern and hope in her eyes as they ready themselves to go to bed. Here before him is a preferable alternative.

Impulsively, he approaches their front door and rings the bell. One of the young men answers a moment later. “Hey,” he says to Michael. “What’s up?”

Michael

I can hardly believe that I’m standing here rather than just going home to Laura. “Hey,” I tell him. “I’m Mike, from next door. We met yesterday. I just wanted to swing by and see if you guys are settling in okay.”

“Oh, cool,” he says. “Want to come in?”

“Sure,” I say, far more jovially than I feel. “Your name is Ethan, right?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Hey Jim, look, our neighbor Mike is here.”

Jim looks up from the couch. “Dude,” he says, “welcome.”

I say, “Just checking to see if you guys are settling in. Do you need anything?”

Ethan slumps back down on the couch. “Have a seat,” he invites me. Gratefully, I sit down. I really didn’t feel like going home yet. This is perfect.

“We’re good,” Jim says. “I don’t think we need anything, but thanks for asking.” He offers me a bowl of chips that was sitting on the coffee table. “Want to hang for a while?”

I take the chips with a smile. “Sure, thanks!”

Laura

I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but Michael was gone so long on his walk that I must have just drifted off on the couch while I was waiting for him to get back. It wakes me up when I hear him come back in through the door.

“Mmmm,” I murmur, sitting up. “What time is it?”

“Not really sure,” he says, then gives a strange little giggle. “Sorry for waking you up.”

“You were gone a long time. Is everything okay?” I’m groggy with sleep.

He sits next to me on the couch and puts his arm around me. “I went to visit the new neighbors. Jim and Ethan. They’re really cool.”

Oh, that’s unexpected. “Really? Okay.” He leans in to give me a kiss, and that’s when I smell it. My sense of sleepiness instantly evaporates. I lean back and look at him, shocked. “Oh my god. Have you been smoking pot?”

“Um, yeah, maybe a little. They offered me some, and it seemed rude to refuse.” He giggles again.

What. The. Heck. I know that Michael used to smoke pot sometimes when he was a lot younger, but he’s in the Navy now. He knows he’s not supposed to do this.

I am absolutely flabbergasted. He looks at me, sort of abashed, but clearly not sorry. “Don’t be mad, Laura. It was just a little. Come on, let’s go to bed.”

I don’t know what to say. This is so unexpected, and disappointing, and alarming. But how can I confront him about it, when he’s been having such a hard time lately? So I just follow him up the stairs.

Michael’s

My beloved’s experience in sampling the marijuana with his new neighbors has brought a surprising sense of well-being to him. The constant turmoil in his mind has slowed. He worried about his wife’s reaction, but other than expressing some initial surprise, she has not commented. They prepare themselves to retire for the night.

“My dearest, how nice that you visited with your new friends and enjoyed some refreshments with them. Try to rest now, beloved.”

Laura

I wake up, realizing that the sun is already up. It’s Sunday, so the alarm wasn’t set, since we don’t have to go anywhere this morning. Michael is still laying asleep by my side.

Suddenly, I realize two very important things. I remember that last night Mike went over and smoked pot with the neighbors, much to my shock when I realized it when he got home. But more importantly, unbelievably, miraculously, he did not wake up last night. We both slept all night long.

I almost want to cry I am so relieved. He got a full night of sleep. We both did.

Last night when I was falling asleep, I was making plans to tell Brenda that their tenants are already in the house smoking pot. I know that she and Ron would not want that to be happening. It’s probably in the rental contract that the tenants signed.

But now I’m not so sure. Was that why Mike slept all night? It seriously is like a miracle. Maybe having done that, just the one time, things will be able to get back to normal now. Maybe I should just refrain from mentioning it to Brenda. Just for now.

Mike rolls over in bed, and opens his eyes. He looks confused, like he doesn’t know what’s going on. Then I see the dawning realization in his face. He knows it too. He didn’t have any nightmares last night.