Sometimes when I can't sleep, I lie in the dark listening to Vincent and Maybellene breathing, and smile. I become really conscious of my heart, and how it feels like it's full of mulled wine or something, and then I feel the warm liquid gradually spreading through my body until my cheeks are flushed and I feel stupidly happy, being in bed with the two people I love more than I love my own life. I feel like I'm being hugged from all sides, even though Vincent is on the other side of the bed and the little person between us is on top of the duvet and swaddled, and so, so secure.
Sometimes on these nights, I think about a time a few years ago when I couldn't sleep and I would lie in the dark and cry. I would look at the light from the moon coming in the gaps between the wooden venetians hitting the white walls of the bedroom, and feel the water leaking from my eyes on its own; trying to keep very quiet so I wouldn't wake the person beside me. I don't know when I've felt more alone than I did on those nights. I thought I must be crazy. I remember the line "I'm empty and aching and I don't know why" looping through my head, and then feeling phony because it wasn't my line, and because I probably did know why I was empty and aching, but I was too scared to admit it, so instead of thinking, I'd just let the words turn over in my head, and feel empty and aching, and sad and stuck. During the day things didn't look so bad; I could fight, or drink, or just pretend - so well that I didn't really know I was pretending, most of the time. (I am that good at pretending.)
I feel sorry for that girl, crying silently in bed. She really did think she was crazy, but sometimes she thought it was the fault of the person beside her that she felt so lonely, when the truth was neither of those things. She was just a big chicken, who thought she was much more grown up than she was. She had made people feel as if she didn't need their advice, so they didn't try to give it to her, even though they all knew she shouldn't be in that bed in that bedroom. I don't really know why she was so afraid; she knew herself, and even if her self-esteem was pretty low, it probably wasn't much different from anyone else her age, and she had enough bravado, or at least access to enough alcohol, to free herself, freeing the sleeping person in the bed at the same time.
Sometimes I think about the things I will tell Maybellene; little phrases that, if we were in a book, she would grow up to quote, saying "Mum always said...". One of the most important of those things is not to let being scared stop her from doing things. There's so much out there that I want her to see and do; so many things I wanted to see and do but was too afraid to reach for... Not that I regret those nights too much. If I hadn't stuck them out, maybe I wouldn't have found Vincent, and I wouldn't be having these happy nights now.
Anyway, I don't think of a song when I'm lying in bed smiling; I just bask. But if I did sing a song in my head, it might be this: