Alongsessionofforestbathing, followed by a more civilized walk with Beaufort, followed by an ice-cold shower, should have been a recipe for a restful evening.But even a cup of cocoa laced with cardamom and Ceylon cinnamon, plus a pile of new books from the library, couldn’t settle Corinthia for bed that night.
She tossed.She turned.She got up and sat on the couch, annoyed.There was so much advice on how to fall asleep, and not a bit of it worked: Turn off your devices.Reduce your blue light exposure.Make your bedroom dark and quiet.Exercise, but not too close to bedtime.Go to bed at the same time every night and get up at the same time every morning.Don’t have coffee after lunch, or, preferably, at all; and definitely don’t nap.
Corinthia had done it all, and was thoroughly convinced that those who dispensed this advice had never experienced insomnia, and were just making wild guesses based on whatsoundedhelpful, because none of it wasactuallyhelpful.
Beaufort, who had looked up from his living room cozy spot when Corinthia huffed ino the living room, sighed and closed his eyes again.
What a lovely sleep Corinthia had after Rosemary stopped by.Where were mysterious, sleep-inducing women when you needed them?
Corinthia got up.Beaufort followed.They both stepped onto the back porch.
Beaufort was quiet, even solemn; his nose twitched for scents on the night air, and its moist, textured surface reflected moonlight.
There was an outdoor couch on the screened porch.Corinthia hadn’t used it much, preferring the air-conditioned atmosphere inside the house—but something about it, on this night, in this light, made it look appealing in a way it never had before.Perhaps she might curl up on it, rest for a short time; let the novelty of the nighttime outdoors trick her mind into sleepiness.
Sensibly, though, with a pile of blankets and a real, honest-to-goodness bed pillow.
She retreated, leaving the door open for Beaufort to come and go, and gathered the necessary bedding.She heaped and arranged the pillows and blankets on the outdoor couch, leaving aside one of the more tattered but still serviceable blankets for the dog, who liked to make a nest of it on the floor.
When Beaufort had finished inspecting the porch and the night air, he turned several circles and settled contentedly on the blanket.His eyes watched, then drifted closed, then opened again as something Corinthia could not see mildly caught the hound’s attention.
Corinthia felt fully awake—foolish, even—as she struggled to fit her legs on the couch and get herself fully covered without any drafts creeping through gaps in the blankets.“This is silly,” she said, to an audience of the dog, and whatever bird was hooting quietly in a nearby tree, “I’m obviously not going to fall asleep.I’m going to get a book.”
And so she disturbed her own carefully-made nest of blankets and went inside to retrieveAlien Space Lesbiansand a clip-on reading light.She settled in once more.
Other sounds faded as Corinthia was swept into the void of space, and, by proxy, into the arms of the alien space lesbian—who seemed to be highly competent at many things, from spaceship piloting to engine repair and fine motor control.Corinthia approved.
The moon peered through the highest branches, and thin, glowing clouds sped across the sky in a wind that didn’t reach the ground.
Small things moved in the yard, overturning leaves and bending blades of grass one at a time.
And beyond, the Refuge swayed, hypnotically.
Beaufort breathed gentle puffs of air, his puppyish contentment seemingly catching.
“Silly,” Corinthia repeated, her eyes closing, her voice in her own ears sounding as if it came from as far away as the spaceship, as she slipped into a dream of white sand and twisted trees.
It was some time later when the noise came that would have woken anyone.
CRACK.
Corinthia started.Her eyes opened.Her blood rushed as if she had nearly fallen and had only caught herself just in time.Woozy and confused, it took several seconds to remember where she was and how she had gotten there in the first place.
Corinthia groaned softly and stretched her stiff limbs.How long had she been asleep?
And what had made that terrible noise?
The book lay on the floor, its pages woefully bent.Corinthia scooped it up and smoothed the pages.
Beaufort was already alert, his nose held high.He let out a clarion bay.
“Hush!”Corinthia said.Even the most laid-back of neighbors could be driven to confrontation if woken in the middle of the night.“Hush, Beaufort!People are trying to sleep.”Corinthia set the injured book aside, pushed herself upward, and rubbed her eyes.Only then, with full clarity of sight, did she realize exactly what had caused the loud cracking noise.
The back fence.Its posts lay flat, cracked at the bases like cheap toothpicks.
The support beams Drew had so carefully installed had been flung outward like javelins, except for a few that were snapped in half if they had not been thrown clear.
The pickets and rails lay on the grass like the beginnings of a new deck.And, as if to add insult to injury, the white sand of the Refuge had been sprinkled over everything like sea salt on a bar of dark chocolate.
