Read Online The Hazards of Sleeping Alone by Elise Juska - Free Book Online Page A

protect her daughter. She can’t protect her from these dangers because she doesn’t understand them. Because she isn’t even aware of them. When she hears about such things, and thinks of her own sleepless nights, she sees her fears for what they really are: imaginary.

chapter two
    C harlotte waits in the kitchen. Emily is still asleep, a pink tangle of blankets on the living room couch. It’s good for her, Charlotte thinks, sleeping late. She must need it. Charlotte herself has been awake since 7:04 A.M., trying to be as quiet as possible. She bypassed the coffeemaker, knowing it would hiss and gurgle. The teapot would whistle, the toaster pop, the microwave drone and beep. The
Today Show
was out of the question. She settled for a glass of lemonade, skipping the ice.
    Now it’s 11:33 A.M. Charlotte tugs at the belt of her old bathrobe, orange stitched with yellow butterflies. Carefully, she peels over a page of the
Better Homes & Gardens Cookbook,
the third cookbook she’s scanned for recipes with arugula. As it turns out, these are not easy to come by. She wonders if it could be used as a substitute for something else. Mixed greens in the Twelve-Hour Vegetable Salad? Radicchio tossed with toasted walnuts and gorgonzola?
    When the phone rings, Charlotte stumbles over the chair trying to get to it. “Hello,” she whispers, glancing at the couch.
    â€œHello?” The background is loud with the sound of machinery. “Charlotte?”
    It’s Walter’s voice. “Yes?”
    â€œHey, how you doing? It’s Walter.”
    â€œWalter.” From the living room, she hears a stir. “I’m fine.”
    â€œListen, I’m at work, so I’ve only got a minute. Think I could speak to Em?”
    â€œWell, just a—let me check.” Charlotte carries the cordless to the couch, where Emily’s head has emerged from the nest of blankets, watching her with a sleepy squint.
    â€œHoney?” Charlotte cups the receiver and speaks softly. “It’s Walter.”
    Emily extends one thin arm to take the phone, then burrows back down in the covers. “Hi,” she says, pulling the blanket to her chin.
    Charlotte returns to the kitchen. She feels oddly purposeless. If she strained, she knows she could make out Emily’s conversation, and this makes her feel intrusive. She wishes she had a bigger house, more places to retreat. She heads for the bathroom, where she dabs a spot of concealer under each eye. She runs a brush through her hair, colored an even brown, and checks the roots. Just a hint of gray. In the bedroom, she changes out of her bathrobe and into a blue cable-knit sweater and a pair of jeans. She sucks in as she zips, then yanks the sweater down, concealing the slight bulge in her belly. She gained twenty-five pounds when she was pregnant with Emily, and lost just ten of them; the other fifteen she has carried ever since.
    By the time she emerges, Emily has moved onto the patio. Charlotte can see just half of her through the stripe of glass unobscured by curtain. She’s still wrapped in a pink blanket, huddled in a cushionless aluminum chair, cradling the phone to her ear.
    It can’t hurt to make coffee now. Charlotte gets the pot brewing, sponges off the counters, rinses a bunch of grapes and sets them in a bowl. She hears the suck of the patio door being pulled open. Emily shuffles into the kitchen, blanket clutched around her head.
    â€œGood morning!” Charlotte chirps.
    â€œMorning.” Emily curls up in a kitchen chair, depositing the cordless on the table. Remembering her warning of the night before, Charlotte doesn’t ask questions. She concentrates instead on topping off the sugar bowl.
    Then: “Walter’s coming.”
    Charlotte’s head snaps up. “Coming?”
    â€œI know, I know, it’s totally short notice—”
    â€œComing
here?
—
    â€œIt’s not a big thing. Really.