Sleeping Beauty (2 page)

If you ever decide to marry, your poor husband is going to be in for a lot of sleepless nights following you around, keeping you out of trouble. Darla is far too cheerful about this.

Dont think I havent considered it. I doubt any marriage could outlast the honeymoon with a bride like me. Its not romantic having to sleep with ones eyes open to make sure his new wife doesnt drown herself having a midnight dip in the motel swimming pool.

Can you do something about it, Suze?

How many times have I explained this to people over the years? Now I just try to avoid the subject entirely, if possible. Ive done everything I know how to do, I said, feeling flooded with resignation and no little amount of despair. I drink decaffeinated beverages. I moved my television out of my bedroom. I exercise daily and I dont eat heavily before bedtime.

Medications havent helped. So far the ones Ive taken have only slowed me down. My sister, Mickey, tells me I look like Im sleepwalking underwater.

There must be something more.

My doctor said to try not to worry about things near bedtime. Of course, the one thing I really have to worry about is bedtime.

The only thing Ive found that helps is Psalm 4:8. In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for thou alone, O Lord, makes me dwell in safety.

He is the only one I can count on to keep me safe both day and night. And I have to put my trust in Him every single time I close my eyes.

Do you recall the time you

I was grateful when we pulled up at the restaurant and handed the car over to valet parking. As with anyone I know well, I have to endure at least twenty minutes of remember whens before I can have a sensible conversation with them. Even my sister is guilty of this. Its difficult to be so fascinating and unique that people cant quit talking about you.

Only my mother will cease and desist from the storiesand shes the one who once plucked me out of the bathtub fully clothed. She also found me standing between two halves of a bedspread draped over an outdoor clothesline at 2:00 a.m. Im not sure what I thought I was doing there but apparently my feet were cold and damp and I was perfectly happy to crawl back into bed. I recalled nothing the next morning. After that, they put a little string attached to a bell across my bedroom door, hoping theyd hear me before I went for a nighttime walkabout. It was weeks before they realized that I was ducking under the string and escaping anyway.

As we entered the small and elegant café, a shiver of pleasure bled through me. Not that Minneapolis doesnt have wonderful restaurants, but the idea of seeing something newsomething in a city that required an overnight stayis a thrill for me.

The hardwood floor was covered with durable Plexiglas. Threaded between the wood and the Plexiglas were thin tubes of pink neon lighting. The theme was echoed as zigzags of neon tubes shot around the room. Dark cherrywood and glass made the place look both elegant and contemporary. High-hatted chefs were working in the open kitchen.

This is the new place to come, Darla informed me. Anybody who is anyone can be found here.

What about us? Who are we?

She grinned at me. Were just lucky enough to work for a company that woos all its potential employees here.

Im hardly potential. I already work for them.

True, but they really want you to take this job promotion. You have a great reputation and top brass is pleased that you finally have agreed to consider moving up the ranks.

After we were seated at a table near the center of the room, Darla studied me. Its always been about fear, hasnt it?

Her bluntness stung. Especially since it was true.

Fear? I dont know if Id use that strong a word. Okay, maybe I would use it. What if I make a spectacle of myself somewhere, wandering around in the night? Or got run over by a taxi cab? Or a horse and buggy in Central Park?

Darla put her hand on my arm. Its time to start living, Suze. Youve been vigilant and careful all your life. Im sure it was hard to be the late-night entertainment at junior-high slumber parties but now it is time to throw caution to the winds.

Easy for you to say. You arent the one who makes a fool of herself.

Whats a little foolishness if it frees you to live?

Have my midnight meanderings kept me from living? In some ways yes, in others, no. I have a great education, a wonderful job at which Im well respected, dozens of friends, a great family, the animals. I play softball in the summer and ski in the winter. Im invited to lots of parties and am never at a loss for something to do. My home is cozy and welcoming and Im a great cook. That doesnt sound like someone who is not living.

Of course, I rarely travel unless someone is with me. Ive almost reconciled myself to being a lonely spinster because I cant imagine any man signing up to watch over me for the rest of his life. And thats come to mind a lot more lately. Maybe I could meet someone like a prison guard or traffic cop, someone with sharp eyes who is accustomed to keeping people in line.

Perhaps Darlas right. Maybe I should be trusting God more and my elaborate alarm system less. Im tired of being an almost thirty-year-old captive to my dreams and nighttime wanderings.

Ooohhh, Darla squealed, sounding just as she had in college. Hunk to the right, entering main door. Is that guy gorgeous or what? Is he wearing Armani?

Darla entertains me with her constant man-watch. Shes primed and ready to be married but is currently between significant others. Me? I havent tried to find Mr. Right. What if, once I find him, he hears about my Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde nighttime personalites, and he thinks Im too complicated to bother with and runs?

Its happened before. It turned out to be a bigger nightmare than any Ive had since. During my senior year of college I believed I was in love with the man of my dreams, a guy named Brandon. Brandon liked to be called Brand for short. That alone should have been warning sign enough, but I was so infatuated that I would have called him Mick Jagger if hed asked. Looking back, I realize that Brand used my sleep issues, which took on mythical proportions around campus, to get out of his commitment to me. A raging commitment-phobe, Brand wasnt going to commit to an engagement with me or anyone. He simply used my weird nocturnal behavior as his excuse. What made me think wed last as a couple anyway? Naive wishful thinking, thats what. It is all clear to me now, but I still remember how his lack of fidelity had hurt.

Its better not to put myself in another situation that could break my heart.

What husband wants his wife pouring ice water on his head during the night or calling the fire department to report a nonexistent fire? My own father once threatened to send me off to a boarding school with bars on the windows when I painted the fenders on his new Buick. If my own father couldnt stand it, how could a man whose blood didnt run in my veins?

She kicked me in the ankle. Look, Suze! You cant miss this bit of scenery.

Reluctantly I turned my head. In the doorway stood a man about six foot two, with dark straight hair, brown eyes and a tanned complexion that made him look as if hed just come from the beach. His features were even; his jaw firm and everything about him whispered elegance and sophistication. His suit cost more than my monthly mortgage. And his shoes? Well, they were worth at least a car payment.

Then he laughed at something his companion said and I saw a flash of white, even teeth.

Worth turning your head for, dont you think? Darla said slyly. Who and what do you think he is? A movie star? A CEO? An ambassador?

It was a game wed played for years.

King of a small country? I offered.

Too stuffy. Maybe hes a U.S. senator.

Now thats too stuffy. I think hes a famous heart surgeon. Transplants. Saves lives.

Or maybe a brain surgeon. I can just imagine him holding my little brain in the palms of his hands. Darla looked as though she were ready to drool.

Fortunately our desserts arrived at the moment and, entranced as she was with Mr. Gorgeous, she likes baked Alaska even more.

We lazed over our decaffeinated coffee until I glanced at my watch. Darla, it is ten oclock! Ive got to get some sleep or Ill blow my interview tomorrow.

No chance. Its a formality.

I bent to pick up my purse from the floor and out of the corner of my eye saw the handsome object of our little game. He smiled and I felt as if hed looked straight at me. I bumped my head on the underside of the table as I sat up, rattling the glassware. His smile grew as he turned away. That was smooth. Now Im making a fool of myself while Im awake, too. Fortunately Id never see the man again.

Darla dropped me off at my hotel with instructions for tomorrow and an invitation to take me out to lunch when the interview was over. Back in my room at the hotel, I followed my evening ritual.

I ordered warm milk from room service, soaked in a soothing bath, lit a small candle called Restful, which is tinged with essential oils meant to make me sleep, and sank into my softest cotton pajamas, ones covered with fluffy clouds and cute little sheep jumping over fences. Then I rigged my door with a little silver bell and propped a chair under the door handle. Unfortunately, no matter how hard I tried I couldnt figure out how to use my new padlock so I tossed it back into my suitcase, zippered the case shut and put that in front of the door as well. By the time I was done Id constructed a barricade in my room much like the one I imagine Davy Crockett built at the Alamo.

Satisfied, I crawled into bed, fluffed the pillow Id brought from home and opened my Bible.

Thered be no wandering tonight, I assured myself and dozed into a contented, even confident, sleep.

I felt pulled up from a groggy fog, my head swimming and my legs heavy, and stared in horror at the clock on the bedside table8:00 a.m.! I must have dozed off again after Id dressed for my interview and now, instead of being early, I would be lucky to be only minutes late. Not a good start.

I scrambled up, grabbed my purse and briefcase and went to the door where I was met with the obstacle course Id built for myself the night before. With strength born of a job loss looming in my future, I hurled aside the suitcase, the chair, the garbage can and whatever else Id managed to stack into the heap in front of the door. If I lost this job because Id managed to blockade myself into my hotel room and couldnt get out

The clatter I made should have awoken the dead, to say nothing of the people in the rooms on either side of or across from me, but perhaps they, unlike me, were already at their appointments.

I flung open the door and hesitated, confused. The hotel was cleverly built to resemble honeycombs. Just what I needed right now, a labyrinth to navigate. Willing myself not to scream in frustration, I walked to the left in an attempt to retrace my steps of the evening before. Where was an early-morning maid when I really needed one? If Id wanted to sleep in today, at least three would have knocked on my door by now, singing out maid service. But when I absolutely had to be up, the place was as silent as a tomb. The only sound was a spill of fresh ice tumbling somewhere inside the ice machine down the hall.

Ice machine. That was it. I remembered it being not far from the elevators. I headed toward the low grumble of the machine.

I moved quickly, my heart thumping hard, my briefcase clutched to my chest. If I couldnt make it to headquarters on time, how would they ever trust me to get to important appointments or meet significant clients? Seeing the job promotion slipping away into the ether, I finally found the ice machine. I was so nervous that my mouth felt like sawdust. There wouldnt be time to stop at a coffee cart for something to drink, so impulsively I plunged my hand into the ice bin, plucked out some cubes and popped one into my mouth. At least now my tongue would not stick to the roof of my mouth as I met the CEO of my company.

Now where was that elevator again?

I turned and ran full force into a wall.

A warm, not unpleasantly hard wall, but a wall, nonetheless. I pushed at it but it wouldnt move. I tried to step around it and it stepped with me. I attempted to shoulder it out of my way with no success. Finally, I made a fist and tried to punch my way past and elicited a small Uh from it. As I drew my elbow back and curled my hand into a tighter fist, the wall grabbed my wrist. No matter how hard I wrestled, its grip was implacable. Trapped! Just like something out of an Edgar Allan Poe story! No matter which way I moved, the wall was in front of me.

Terrified, I did the only thing I knew to doI started to scream.

Suddenly a hand clapped over my mouth, and I felt myself being propelled along the hallway so quickly that my feet barely touched the ground. I was being kidnapped! Immediately my mind went to some of the terrible things that would no doubt happen to me. My poor parents. Theyd probably never know what became of me. And Darla! She would feel so responsible. What would my company think? Theyd flown me here to offer me a significantly higher job position. Would they believe Id run off? My reputation would be ruined. Of course, whats a good reputation if Im spirited away and kept prisoner in some madmans basement?

Right where I was, I dropped to my knees and prayed.

Help me! You are the only one who can get me out of this! Let the elevator door open and a janitor or a maid find us. You are my protector. Spread protection over me that, like David, I may rejoice in You.

And that was where I was when I began to wake up, on my knees in one of the small meeting rooms the hotel provided, praying out loud as the incredibly handsome man Id seen in the restaurant last night sat in the chair across from me, a cup of coffee in one hand, calmly watching me as if he dealt with frantic, maniacal sleepwalkers every day.

My hands were wet from the now-melted ice cubes and I realized that I was not dressed for the day in my business suit at all but still in my sheep-and-cloud pajamas. What Id thought was my briefcase was actually my makeup kit. Id squeezed it so hard that the cap had come off my toothpaste and was oozing out the top like mint-green glue. The clock on the wall said 3:00 a.m.