Faces in the Ceiling

The only thing more exhausting than getting no sleep is the attempt to get that sleep. Your eyes have stayed shut for- well, you don't want to end the streak by opening them just to check the time. If they've been closed for as long as you think, then surly you'll fall asleep any minute now!

Yeah, that's totally worked out in the past. You crack your eyes open and the popcorn ceiling greets you with melting and shifting faces. It feels like all the sleepless nights have come back to laugh at you in the form of shadows. You even hear one of them giggle sharply and your hands twitch in response.

Blinking, you turn your eyes to your phone to check the time. A little past 3 am. You groan softly and decide to roll out of bed in an attempt to shed some energy. Maybe eating will help?

Padding down the hallway the floorboards of your apartment creak. You wonder if anyone downstairs hears you or perhaps feeling the same crushing sleeplessness. The college students and stoners must feel some sort of spiritual connection.

In the kitchen you see a pan of shepherds pie, half eaten and uncovered. The boys must've had a nice meal. At first, you don’t give the dish a second thought and open the fridge to grab the food you saved from work, but it catches your eye as you straighten yourself and close the refrigerator door, leaving the other leftovers behind. Shrugging, you grab a paper plate from the stack on the counter and cut yourself a piece before nuking it. You pour a short glass of milk to wash it down then pause in the doorway of the kitchen. Normally when your emotions became like this and you teetered on the edge of dissociation, the dining room table became your safe space. Tonight it was cluttered with the collective belongings of your roommates. You looked into the living room where the couch was covered in more of the same. The floor it is, then.

Luckily the coffee table sat in front of the couch, clean and organized. You placed your plate and milk on it and softly plopped yourself in the space between it and the couch, as if slotting yourself on the bench of the dining room table. You sat for a moment, trying to ground yourself as you felt the world slip around you. The smell of food became apparent and nausea flooded your system. You thought about how long it had been since you'd last eaten, and that was 6 hours ago at work.

With a great deal of effort, you picked up the fork and placed it in your mouth. The taste reminded you of raw sewage. Chewing it slowly and swallowing, you stared at the empty entertainment stand, trying to focus on something. A wave of heat rushed over you. God, it couldn't be that hot in here, could it? You shut your eyes and tried to breathe. Breathe. Breathe-

"Mother of pearl!" Said a soft voice as a door opened down the hall. Your stomach rolled with a wave of nauseous dread. From the darkness of the hallway one of your roommates, Amare, appeared. He was dressed for work, no doubt ready to dive into his twelve hour shift at the warehouse. He stopped, almost shocked to see you folded between the couch and coffee table.

"What are you doing up this early?"

You shove down the anger that bubbles in your chest. "I think you mean what am I doing up this late."

"Sure, but that doesn't answer my question."

"Can't sleep." You took another bite to punctuate the point, but couldn't find the strength to swallow. Every muscle in your mouth moved to eject it.

"I know how that goes." He ducked into the kitchen, quickly ending the conversation. The silence made you uneasy now that there was another person with you.

"You heading into work?" You raised your voice a bit to reach him in the kitchen. He didn't respond, but you heard a faint giggle in the back of your head.

"Why are you shouting?"

"What?"

A door closed at the end of the hallway and Amare comes forward, again? "You're yelling," he hisses, "keep it down unless you want to hear it from Jay." He brushed past you and into the kitchen, flipping on the light and shuffling k-cups to find his breakfast blend.

"So, you... You weren't-"

"What? What about me?"

"I was... I was just talking to you- So how..."

Amare snapped the lid of the coffee maker shut and the mellow sound of boiling water became a raging fire between your ears. He rounded the corner and sat across from you on the living room floor. He didn't speak for a moment, electing to simply stare at

"How long have you been unable to sleep?" He breaks the silence.

"Only a few days."

"Have you been able to sleep at all?"

The faces in the ceiling laughed when you try to search your brain for the answer. "Not really, no."

Amare didn't respond for a moment. Several moments. Several minuets. The coffee maker squeezed out the last of his morning brew. "Coffee?"

You shook your head as a lump rose in your throat. He stood and rounded back into the kitchen. You took the opportunity to gulp down the glass of milk in hopes of pushing down your feelings. Amare returned as you wipe the 'stash, taking his spot across from you and sliding over a warm mug.

"I said I didn't want any."

"It made more than I wanted. You should have some."

"Won't this be, I dunno, counterproductive?" You spit- then take a breath. He didn't need to be on the end of your irritability just because you don't know how to close your eyes for long enough.

Amare shrugged. "Has anything else worked out for you so far?"

Your eyes turned down to the coffee table, understanding the point, and you both took a sip of the steaming liquid. His usual concoction of sugar and various creamers coated your tongue, washing away the rancid taste of milk, mashed potato, and corn.

Maybe in another life you enjoyed this; Getting up first thing in the morning, preparing breakfast and coffee to start your day off right. Maybe sharing it with a partner or pet that woke up just as early. You would enjoy the sunrise and plan out your days, maybe get a start on the things you want to do in life.

But your life is here. Kept awake by your own unhealthy body that rejected most sustenance and found fear in the most simple things. Wracked with anxiety and high on sleepless nights. What's keeping you going at this point?

"How is it? Sweet enough for you?"

You could only nod as a tear slipped down your cheek. Years ago he would've reached over to wipe it away with a gentle thumb. Today he simply handed you a tissue and looked away. Another piece of your heart breaks for yourself- and Amare. The two of you used to be so close, finding every excuse to hang out together during the day and watching movies and playing video games at night. When you worked together it was easy to find the time. Now he found a better job left you feeling trapped and alone in an environment you hate. Without him, it feels like a personal hell. At work and at home. By the time he came home, you were either asleep (when it blessed you) or out to work for the day. Most times they kept you until after closing, which is the shift you're now stuck with.

Yeah, that's what you tell yourself.

You continued to take small sips of the coffee as the birds began to wake. Their faint chirps felt like jackhammers to your skull. You glanced over to Amare who also squeezed his eyes shut at the sound.

"How'd you sleep?" You ask in an attempt to get away from the sound, and your thoughts.

"Huh?"

"I said how'd you sleep?"

"Fine."

Both of you knew there was no point in asking in return.

He took another sip. Another bird chirped. You cringed, slid the mug and twice-bitten pie to the side as you folded your arms around yourself, and lay your head on the cold coffee table. On your cheek you felt the fading warmth of the coffee mug and your plate. "I don't know what else I can do."

Amare hummed in response then stood up with a pop to his knees. He took your mug and his to the kitchen along with your plate. He stayed in the kitchen while you cried into your own arms.

You thought back to the fight you two had almost a year ago. How he told you that you wouldn't amount to anything or become anyone. You told him your parents didn't love him. Of course it was a childish response, but you knew it was your brother's deepest insecurity. He wanted to really see himself make his parents proud. It was his driving force in school, in hobbies, and in work.

That was the real reason he quit. Not that bullshit excuse of "I'm not happy here."

He had to be happy there. *You* were there. *Together!* You two always had fun together! Right? Every memory with him, you're both happy and smiling. So he had to like you, right? He had to enjoy spending time with you, right? If not then- how could anyone enjoy being around you when your own brother hates you?

Amare returned to your side again, now with a fluffy blanket from the hallway closet you somehow didn't hear him go in to. You kept your head down and your breathing shallow. Better for him to think you've cried yourself out. He wrapped it around your shoulders, making sure to tuck it in around your arms so you didn't wake up cold. He began to move away towards the door, but thankfully came back when you started to mumble.

"What?"

"I know that they're proud of you, Amare. I am too."

He was silent for a moment. Several moments. "... Get some sleep."

"I'll try."

Your eyes stayed closed. You should have started calling him your brother again. He didn't deserve to be treated like a stranger anymore. You didn't deserve to pretend he was one.

You felt it when he leaned down to give you a gentle kiss on the top of your head. You didn't hear the door close when he left. You were sound asleep.