Spiders on the Wall
Her eyes opened slowly in the morning sun seeping through my dusty window. From her facial expression, I could tell she thought I was watching her sleep. Really, I’d just woken up and coincidentally looked over at the exact moment she did.
I decided against acknowledging that notion, however. It wasn’t worth trying to defend my sanity.
Suddenly, her eyes darted to the ceiling behind me.
“There’s a spider,” she said, naturally caffeinated.
Before I had a chance to roll over and actually see the tiny, black speck on the wall next to the poster of Bob Marley, she asked if I could get rid of it.
“Yeah, I’ll get him in a second. Can I wake up first? Do you want some coffee?”
She looked at me, almost angry.
“Fine,” I mumbled, getting out of bed.
“Don’t kill it though,” she said.
I found some gym shorts, a t-shirt, and a smile.
“So,” I mocked her, “you want me to catch the spider and put him outside,” I paused to accentuate the irony, “just so he can just get back into the apartment?”
I laughed to ease the comment I should’ve known better to make. She did not. She looked at me and pulled a blonde strand of hair away from her eyes. Maybe she was thinking about what I’d look like with eight limbs.
“Okay,” I said.
I walked to the bathroom, peed and got a tissue, and came back to catch the spider. It had moved though, almost as if it heard us talking about killing it. I felt bad.
“Where’d he go?”
“I don’t know, I fell back asleep,” she said, opening her eyes again.
I laughed. “Okay, well if he shows his face again, I’ll snag him.”
I placed the tissue on my desk and climbed back into bed. After a few minutes, we’d both dozed off. Later, when I woke up, I noticed her looking at me and wondered if all creatures innately enjoy watching others sleep.
I felt my face contort in the dehydrated sunlight. It was just before noon.
And then I saw him again. Luckily, she didn’t. Her eyes were on me and my morning breath. I could tell she was in deep thought.
She smiled and said, “I love these little moments. They matter so much until they’re gone.”
Debating whether or not to say anything, the spider was now directly above our bed. He was plotting to camp out all afternoon too.
“Yeah,” I replied. “What I’d give to be a fly on the wall keeping track.”
“Wait! Is he still there?” She flung around to only find Bob Marley smiling back at us.
“The smallest things mean so much, don’t they?”
