After a while I think he’s stopped taking the pills. Or they aren’t working anymore, because he can’t wake up in the mornings and he stops laughing so much. He’s back to looking tired all the time, even though I know he’s getting enough sleep—every night he lies beside me, his breathing deep and even, while I hold him in my arms, and I feel him watching me long after I’ve fallen asleep. But by morning we’ve drifted apart and he’s anchored to the other side of the bed, held down by blankets twisted around his legs and bunching between us in the middle of the bed.
I get up first and let him sleep—he looks so worn out, like he’s been fighting all night long and finally dropped off a few hours before I wake, and I don’t want to bother him. When he sleeps is the only time his face is smooth an
