Stories to Sleep On: an Anthology

By Michael Thompson

The anthology begins with Sleep Tight, My Love. The plot starts out one way but soon, the reader isn't sure what is the real truth here. The Last Play involves a retired stage actress who is struggling to deal with her life and the young lady who gives her hope. A Return to Trevi shows us how the past sometimes comes back to the present when we least expect it, providing a challenge on how to move forward. A Spirit for Christmas brings back the concept of magic at that time of the year and how sometimes, it might not be very nice. When a Son Dies is a sad World War II story about coping with loss and eventually realizing life sometimes goes in another direction for us. The Second Nun's Tale is an adaptation of the story found in The Canterbury Tales by Chaucer about Saint Cecilia. The New Neighbors starts by showing us a normal life of two people who really aren't living such a normal life at all. A Daughter for Life shows the struggles of a family as Mom is failing and what this means to Mom herself. A Bench in Central Park once again calls upon the a normal encounter that is helped along by a very special lady. And finally, A Christmas Dreams is a modern-day It's a Wonderful Life and A Christmas Carol that helps a boy deal with some very challenging situations during the season.

Each of the stories is meant to bring joy and hope that life can be better when all things look the worst.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: May 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098304782

Michael Thompson

Michael Thompson is the cofounder—along with his wife, Robin—of Zoweh. Based in Durham, North Carolina, the organization serves as a guide for the hearts of men, women, and marriages as they experience the transforming love of God. Thompson is also the author of Search and Rescue, The Heart of a Warrior, and other books. He and his wife have three grown daughters and one “son-in-love.”

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©2020 Micheal Thompson All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

eBook 978-1-09830-478-2

Stories to help you feel good,

before lights out!

Contents

Sleep Tight, My Love

The Last Play

A Return to Trevi

A Spirit for Christmas

When a Son Dies

The Second Nun’s Story

The New Neighbors

A Daughter for Life

A Bench in Central Park

A Christmas Dream

Author’s Notes

About the Author

Acknowledgements

Sleep Tight, My Love

It was a quiet evening, as most go. It was the end of another long day, and what better place to end it than the comfy bed that occupied most of the bedroom? The bed was a luxury Harriet and Bill had decided to splurge on several years ago, knowing that each night it would be there to greet them and wipe their cares away as they fell asleep. Many special moments had been spent in this bed, not so much of a carnal nature but more the loving, nurturing attention they gave each other at the end of the day. Snuggling together, especially if a storm raged outside, they would tell each other ghost stories, then laugh until their sides split. Other nights, they would talk over what each had experienced in their workday that required sharing. And finally, when all was said and done, each would drift off to sleep in their own time.

The bedroom itself was a bit small for a master bedroom, but perhaps that is why Harriet liked it so much. It was cozy. Its uniqueness featured two separate bathrooms on either side. Hers featured a large tub for soaking away the aches and pains of a fifty-three-year-old who still worked, wearing high heels. She had her own sink and vanity that allowed her to spread out all her needs for her morning and nightly rituals.

Bill’s bathroom, by contrast, reflected his austere tastes. In place of a tub, he had opted to install a rain shower fixture in his tiled shower so the water could cascade over his head. While the vanity was as large as Harriet’s, most of his accoutrements could be found near the sink, making it easy for him to start the morning.

In the bedroom, aside from the large comfy bed, sat two small nightstands with lamps. Bill’s lamp was never lit. His routine was to hit the bed and go to sleep. On the other side of the bed, Harriet’s nightstand held a lamp that cast a bright glow onto her side of the bed. She had opted for a bright bulb to be able to read in bed better, as she did each night. On the nightstand were various lotions and her trusty alarm clock. (Bill never needed one; he woke naturally on time.) An assortment of books filled the lower shelves of Harriet’s nightstand, but one was placed prominently on top of it, ready for another night’s reading. Directly across from the comfy bed were two large closets, opened by a pair of glass doors. Inside, each of them had arranged their clothing to meet their needs. While Harriet opted for more drawers to securely place clothing out of sight, Bill preferred easy-to-reach, open shelving and nooks to hold his clothing, in addition to ample hanger space to store his suits for work. The two had bemoaned the fact that they didn’t have the kind of large walk-in closet that was all the rage in new-builds but realized the confines of the house walls simply wouldn’t permit that kind of modification. So they made do with what they had. On Harriet’s side of the bed, a soft throw rug greeted her feet each morning instead of the hard wood floor. Bill used to have one as well for his side of the bed, but it was discarded some time ago, revealing a discolored patch of wood. The bed had always been Harriet’s dream. She wanted a wood headboard so she could prop her pillow against it at night to read. Yes, it meant more dusting periodically, but she loved the warm color and smooth texture of the paneling.

However, lately, this idyllic spot of togetherness had grown uneasy. It now represented a source of consternation and uncertainty. What was once a loving nest of fond memories had become a contentious spot for two people who had been married for thirty-three years and were beginning to question what the future had left for them. It seemed that the bedroom brought them closer together than they really wanted anymore, especially Harriet. To the oblivious Bill, this didn’t mean much; they were just on different trajectories that would soon intersect again one way or another. His approach was one of indifference, content to let themselves work their way back to normal. Harriet, on the other hand, wasn’t of that mind. She knew things were different and, furthermore, knew they would never go back to the way they were.

From the doorway to his bathroom, Bill entered the bedroom with one thought on his mind: a quick escape to sleep. Bill was a man in his late fifties. His mane of graying hair cascaded down the back of his neck, but his goatee had gone white. His chest hair matched his goatee. There were age lines on his face from his constant worry about his job, among other things. Lately, he seemed to be worrying even more, though he couldn’t quite figure out why. His body belied his age. His abs and pecs were still firm because of his exercise regimen, although lately he had noticed there was less muscle than before. He chalked it up to his workaholic life and fading exercise commitment. Although he had always taken pride in this physique, nowadays it seemed less important. His day had been long and challenging, although, thinking back on it, he couldn’t quite put his finger on what made it so. Nevertheless, Bill, having brushed his teeth and donned his pajama pants, fully expected Harriet to be already in bed, propped up with a pillow and reading one of her books. He liked to refer to them as trashy novels even though they weren’t really. But she was not there. Instead, he found the bed still made from the morning and noises coming from Harriet’s bathroom. The light on her nightstand gave the room a warm glow while, as usual, his lamp was off. Bill stood there, his hands on his hips, scrutinizing the scene. Walking over to the far side of the bed, he reached down and picked up Harriet’s bedtime read, another novel by the same author she had been reading lately. He thumbed through the pages and noted that she was about halfway through. Placing the book back down on the nightstand, he looked toward Harriet’s bathroom, where he could still hear nighttime sounds. She’d be out soon and hopefully read just a little so he could get to sleep. Returning to his side of the bed, Bill pulled back the covers and climbed in.

Oh, my God! This bed is so comfy! Bill remarked. Just what I needed at the end of this day! It’s like coming home again after being gone a long time! He left his nightstand light off.

Bill fluffed the pillow and rearranged the bedding so as not to get too hot. Harriet always insisted on layering the bed, first with sheet, then a thin blanket, then a flowered quilt. Bill needed only a sheet to sleep under so as not to overheat in the night and wake up. He might concede to a blanket on very cold nights, but at this time of year, a sheet would do. Bill turned his back to Harriet’s bathroom door and settled in for sleep.

As he struggled to clear his mind of thoughts he had gathered during the day, Bill soon became aware that they seemed to make little sense to him. He seemed to jumble a variety of images and thoughts together in no particular order. At times, this was disconcerting for Bill. It had been going on for the last few months, but he chalked it up to the stress at work and the issues with Harriet. Dear, sweet Harriet had become a different person lately, and his mind ran over all that had happened in the last few months. Gradually, Bill grew more aware of Harriet’s noisy routine in the bathroom. First, he could hear the electric toothbrush as it whirled around in her mouth, over gums and teeth. He had bought it for her last Christmas and, although she was reluctant to use it at first, now she used in all the time. Then came spit, spit. Soon, out came the floss, and, while the noise was subtle, he could almost hear it squeak between each tooth. Spit, spit. A few pumps of the moisturizer meant limbs were being taken care of in a loving manner.

Harriet? Harriet? When are you going to be done? Bill yelled. He thought to himself, Oh for God’s sake! This goes on every night! She could wake up the sleeping dead!

No answer came from the bathroom other than Harriet’s gargling with mouthwash and spitting it out. Rinse, spit, spit.

Harriet, I asked if you were almost done. Honey, I have to get to sleep. I’ve had one of those days.

Still no acknowledgment came from the bathroom. Bill thought to himself, Fine, she’s going to be like that again tonight. Bill, having no success connecting with Harriet lately, turned away once more and lay his head down.

Finally, Harriet emerged from the bathroom, turned off the bathroom light, and made her way to the bed. Harriet, although several years younger than Bill, looked considerably older, especially in her face. She religiously used her beauty products each night and morning, but now there seemed to be a pallor to her skin. It was most noticeable at bedtime when all the camouflage came off and it was just Harriet naturally. Her hair lay in soft curls and was cut short, a style she had adopted recently, as though to rebirth herself into someone else. Never before had her hair been so short. Lately, she had been given to talking out loud to herself. She found that voicing her thoughts helped make up for the loneliness she felt inside. Her nightgown reflected her love of flowers with clusters of spring blooms covering the material. Wearing it used to make her feel happy, but it no longer did. She sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at the floor. Giving a slight turn, she looked over to the other side of the bed and gave a small, sad smile before sliding under the covers. She propped the pillow just right against the headboard and took up her book to begin reading.

Bill, finally at peace with no noise to keep him up, once more settled into the sheet that covered him. All was quiet, except for the occasional page turning as Harriet read her book. Soon, Bill’s eyes were wide open and staring forward, once more unable to sleep. With all the quiet in the bedroom, the slightest noise seemed to be magnified.

Raising himself up in bed, Bill said, Can’t you just skip the reading tonight? I really need some quiet and darkness to sleep.

If Harriet heard anything, she didn’t respond. She was engrossed in her novel and had escaped from the world she lived in. And a much-needed escape it was. For her, life had become a daily chore of rising each morning and figuring out how to make it through another day. Her simple life from before seemed so easy. Now she was fraught with indecision and a lot of emotion that she wasn’t accustomed to. Sometimes it made her want to retreat into the cocoon she had imagined would protect her from the outside world. She could forget about life around her for a while. But, as her doctor advised, she had to fight that temptation daily.

Harriet. With no response from Harriet, Bill beseeched her again, Harriet, can’t we just turn off the light? Bill’s frustration once again was mounting as he lay in that comfy bed. His wife of many years was becoming more a stranger to him each day. Lately, she seemed to be shutting him out of her life. Where once their nighttime ritual involved discussions and sharing, now Harriet seemed to be blocking Bill out of her life. The cold shoulder, he called it. Bill couldn’t remember the last time she responded to his voice. It was as if she was trying to make a point. He questioned if it was something he had done or said, but she never told him. He realized that life was not ideal for them at this point in their marriage, but he couldn’t understand why she was taking it out on him.

Slowly, Bill lay back down. He put his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. And how long are you going to read tonight? I can’t sleep with the light on, he said matter-of-factly.

Again, Harriet ignored her husband, immersed in her novel. The look on Bill’s face was one of frustration, but Harriet didn’t bother to look his way. Her life had a different focus these days.

"Oh, come on, now. Enough with the silent treatment. You’re just going to quit speaking to me? Fine! Be like that! It’s no wonder you are seeing some shrink. I hope he helps you. I’m going to sleep."

Finally, Harriet decided to stop reading. Her face portrayed a woman in search of something unattainable. She closed the book but continued to look out into the bedroom, as if contemplating something disturbing.

You know, I don’t think I can read this book, she said to herself. It has the most depressing plot I have ever read, people dying and grieving. I don’t need to read about depression at this time in my life. I’m not going to waste my time with this. Quietly, she rubbed her hand over the paperback as she held it in her lap, pondering her life. She tossed the book to the floor, meaning it would be discarded tomorrow at the local used bookstore.

Fine, Bill responded. Just don’t tell me about it. It’s time to sleep.

Harriet sat in her bed, covers drawn up to her waist, with a flat affect on her face, trying to remember when joy was a part of her life. Only sadness could fill her heart now. It was the first time in her life when she felt her heart was a repository of dead wishes and long-gone happiness. Her joy had been replaced with the realization that her life would never be the same. As she sat there, musing about her life, her eyes strayed to the other side of the bed. At first she smiled but then a tear came from her left eye. Abruptly, she wiped it away and turned to her nightstand to turn off her light. Pulling the pillow down, Harriet slowly sunk under the covers.

Hallelujah! said Bill. Maybe I can sleep now.

After a few moments of silence, Harriet abruptly sat up and turned on the lamp. She leaned way over the nightstand and began to rummage through books she kept on the lower shelves to read sometime.

Perhaps there is another one down here I could start. Let’s see. Nope, not that one. That is not what I want to read about at this time in my life either. I need something uplifting—something positive.

Turning toward Harriet, Bill said, Are you serious? I cannot believe you!

Well, I guess I’ll have to go to that used bookstore tomorrow and see what I can dig up. The woman there is always so good at suggesting books for me to read.

Ay yai yai! Do you know it is after eleven? Quietly, Bill leaned over and whispered in Harriet’s ear, I love you—now go to sleep!

With a turn of her head, Harriet looked in Bill’s direction, then waved her arm, as if to dismiss the attempt he had made.

Harriet sat there puzzled for a second. The quizzical look on her face was magnified with her head moving back and forth, as if trying to search out a voice from afar. Hmm. That was strange, she whispered. You know, I guess I’m not ready to start another book. I think I have too much on my mind after meeting with Dr. Sheldon. He—he gave me a lot to think about, especially regarding you, my love, she said without looking his way. Perhaps it might be a good idea to just lie here and think it over.

With that, Harriet reached over and turned off the light once more. The bedroom was bathed in the soft blue light radiating from the digital clock on Harriet’s nightstand. It was always her security blanket on those dark nights when Bill had to travel for his job. Although she got used to his absences and found her own independence in taking charge of things, she was always glad to see him come through the door and know that things could return to normal. Now, she realized that was all gone. For a while, both lay on the bed, contemplating what was just said. For Bill, such an invasion of his personal life between his wife and some psychiatrist was unconscionable. Never had he turned to someone outside of his marriage to solve a crisis. He just wouldn’t. And yet, here was Harriet doing it on her own. Did she not trust him? Why didn’t she want to share her deepest feelings with him?

Suddenly sitting up in bed, Bill said, "Wait a minute. What exactly did you tell this guy about me? He doesn’t even know me."

Once again choosing to ignore her husband, Harriet said thoughtfully, You know, I was surprised at how perceptive Dr. Sheldon seemed about my situation. He must have counseled a lot of people about something like this. I felt he really knew how to zero in on what was bothering me. Harriet’s face betrayed her need for hope to find her way out of this morass of sorrow in which she found herself.

"And what exactly is bothering you?"

The more we talked, the more I began to feel I could tell him anything. All those secrets from the past thirty years just might bubble up as we keep meeting.

Now wait a minute. What secrets are you going to tell this guy? said Bill.

Harriet mused in silence for a while as Bill stared at her. Once again, she chose to ignore him, acting as if he weren’t even there. Finally, she turned away from Bill and lay on her right side. Bill, now worked up, squirmed in bed. His night of sleep had been thoroughly interrupted by what he thought was nonsense. Bill was now wide awake and felt Harriet was not being fair. I asked you a question. Don’t turn your back on me! I want to discuss this, he said forcefully. However, it was clear she was not going to do so. How many nights, lately, had ended just that way, preventing him from closure? As he sat there and watched her lie so still, Bill worried again about ultimately losing her.

I can’t sleep! There is just too much going on in my mind, said Harriet suddenly. Abruptly, she rose from the bed, turned on the light and began to pace back and forth on her side of the bed. With her arms crossed in front of her, she tried to hold in what little body warmth she still had in the cool bedroom.

"I’ll say there’s a lot going on in someone’s mind! responded Bill sarcastically. Suddenly, tonight, you pour all this out on me? We have never had secrets before, and now you’re visiting a shrink and talking about them, before I even get a chance to respond? Shaking his head, Bill whined, Harriet, I don’t mind saying this, but I don’t think you are being very fair to me. Haven’t I always been there for you? Didn’t we raise two wonderful kids? Didn’t we have fun along the way? I mean, yeah, I know that some times were rough. I suppose I could have been a better husband—in hindsight. But . . . we’re a team, you and me."

You know, there was just this empty feeling inside me that Dr. Sheldon asked me about. There was a time when I would have laughed at anyone who asked me if I felt empty about my marriage. But when he said it the other day, you know, it made me think twice.

Empty feeling! said Bill sarcastically. "What feeling? We have lots of feelings! Shit, we’re feeling all the time!"

Dr. Sheldon was right, though, Harriet mused. He saw that my life now has become a tired routine these past few months. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized I was angry with myself for allowing it to get like that, especially when you consider what happened.

I don’t get this. What happened? said Bill, incredulously.

These last few months have been nothing but regret and sorrow. And I think Dr. Sheldon wants me to try to start anew. He thinks it’s time to dump all this sad baggage, leave it behind and move on.

Rising from the bed slowly, Bill responded. You can’t be serious. Do you know what you are saying? You just want to abruptly end everything we have because some shrink has convinced you that there is a better life out there without me? This is ridiculous! I am going to see this guy tomorrow and give him a piece of my mind. Bellowing, Bill said, Who the hell does he think he is, convincing a married woman to walk out on her marriage of thirty-three years?

Harriet paused for a while, as if gathering her thoughts and assessing her future life. I don’t think I am strong enough to leave all this behind, she said as she placed her hand on the headboard. "I am just so tired of crying and feeling all alone."

Baby! You’re not alone! I’m right here. And what’s all this about crying? I have never seen you cry. I mean, what would you be crying about? Bill, having risen from the bed, began to pace. "Listen, hon. I know that things could have been better between the two of us. But we have made progress. I try to come home every night when I’m not on the road in a good mood—mostly. And sometimes I even cook dinner before you get home from your job. Using his arms energetically to make his point, Bill continued, And yes, we do sort of get wrapped up in our laptops at night but—we still have something going, don’t we? Why didn’t you talk to me about your feelings? Maybe I should go see this guy too. We could go as a couple to a counseling session and see if that doesn’t help you feel better. I feel awful that you have been carrying this burden all by yourself."

Seeming to change the subject, Harriet wistfully mused, Maybe tomorrow I’ll sit down and write out some goals for myself. I need to think about the way Dr. Sheldon wanted me to look at all this.

Maybe I could help you? It would help me figure out what you are up against.

Without acknowledging Bill, Harriet continued to speak as though he were not there. You know, I could have Jenny come over. She’s been wanting to help me for the last few months, and it might be nice to have her over for some coffee and girl talk.

"I think you need me, Bill replied, impatiently. I’m your problem, or so you say. Why are you excluding me from all this? I don’t get it." He stretched out his arms, pleading.

With that, Harriet returned to the bed and lay down, her back to Bill once more. An eerie silence filled the room that left Bill dumbfounded. The woman of his life had betrayed all that he thought was dear, all that he had come to accept as the way life was. She seemed to be a totally different woman from the one he had once known. His main concern was what he could do next to clear this all up. Hey, you can’t shut me out! I’m a part of all this, aren’t I? he pled with frustration. Tell me that we can still talk about this and work something out. It was obvious now that Harriet had finally succumbed to sleep, and Bill stood in silence.

Great, now she’s asleep, and I’m wired as hell! Bill sat down at the foot of the bed and mused. I can’t believe this! The woman I thought I knew so well is almost a complete stranger. It’s like I’ve been gone for a long time, and now that I’m back, I don’t even recognize her! Holding his head in his hands, Bill wondered what to do next. He’d always been good at solving other people’s problems, but now he wasn’t sure he could do that for himself. I am going to have to come up with a game plan to get to the root of this. I think I need to see this guy first, this doctor, maybe make an appointment. I want to see what he has to say. ’Course, knowing his medical background, he’ll probably say he can’t share any of that information—patient confidentiality! At least, though, I might be able to tell him my side of the story. Yeah. That’s what I can do. Maybe when he hears that, he might have Harriet try something besides just quitting and moving on. Like counseling. Yeah. I think it’s time. Whew! I thought I was tired before, but this has absolutely drained me.

Bill walked over to Harriet’s side of the bed to turn off her lamp but decided to leave the light on in case she got up to read again. Then, carefully making his way around the end of the bed in the dark so as not to stub his toes, he got into his side of the bed and lay down. For a moment, he watched the sleeping Harriet, the rise and fall of her breathing. He tried to match it with his own. Occasionally, she seemed to moan out in the dark. Without thinking, he whispered, I love you.

With that, Harriet rolled toward him, still asleep. Bill could now gaze into her beautiful face and realize what a lucky guy he was, no matter what life had thrown at him. Lately, it had been a lot, but Bill was not the kind of guy to shy away from his responsibilities, especially when it came to Harriet. Slowly, he closed his eyes and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Several nights later, the bedroom became the focal point for another interaction between Bill and Harriet. The situation had not improved for Bill, who suspected that there was something more going on with his wife. He had spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to approach this seeming madness she was exhibiting, yet he couldn’t quite force himself to do anything about it. He felt helpless to enact any change or seek anyone’s help. It was his worst nightmare—one of a total lack of control. It was like watching a movie and not being able to tell the actors not to go into that ominous shed in the dark. And if there was one thing Bill abhorred, it was not having control of his life. For him, that was chaos and was incompatible with normal life—at least his own life.

The bedroom was once again ready for ending a tiresome day with few answers for either spouse. Harriet’s nightstand lamp was lit, and the bedcovers had been pulled down on her side. On Bill’s side, nothing had been done to indicate a preparation for sleep or that he was even home. His lamp remained dark.

Harriet finished brushing her teeth and, skipping the rest of her routine, emerged tired. She dragged herself from the bathroom to the bed after turning off the bathroom light. For a moment, she stopped in the doorway and sadly looked at the lonesome bed. How much she had hoped things could have been different. But they weren’t. Making her way to the far side of the bed, she lovingly straightened Bill’s pillow and the bed spread, smoothing any ripples. Slowly, then, Harriet made