Maya

Beginning:

Maya has forgotten how to sleep. She lies on the outside edge of the double bed, stomach flat against the smooth white sheets. She kicks at the heavy weight of the blankets hearing Jessie complain sleepily from the other side of the bed. Her body is still, almost tense as she wills her brain to slow and stop, wills the sinking of sleep to seep up through the ends of her limbs. Its like when you suddenly start paying attention to what you are doing when you ride a bike, she thinks, your body knows what to do but your brain gets in the way.
She pushes up on one elbow, peering through the darkness at Jessie. She wishes she could get out of bed, watch television or read, anything, but the one time she had done that Jessie had appeared in the living room doorway with her hurt puppy expression. Maya had been forced to promise never to do it again. So she is lying there, tossing and turning, until Jessie rolls over her and holds her down and still. Eventually the sun rises.

Morning:

Coffee. Jessie is reading the paper. Maya smolders across the table from her with swollen eyes. Her fingers tangle in the ends of her long black hair, shaking with adrenaline and caffeine. Her foot taps with impatience.
Jessie looks up and smiles. She wraps her calm hand around Maya's fretful one.
"Why don't you let me brush your hair for you, love, before bed? That used to help." Jessie's smile is full of peace and contentment. Her brown eyes soften every time she looks at Maya. Maya drops her hand to the table, reaching for the lukewarm mug of coffee. Inexplicably, she feels trapped.
"That would be nice," says Maya.