Under the Covers

Some breakups weaken you. Others strengthen you. Or maybe they just bring solace.

I’m stretched out on my brand-new bed. “Biconical spring mattress, featuring three-zone support and extra softness.”

I kept a poker face as the mattress salesman gave me his pitch. But he was a man, and I was in the middle of my “I’m a woman and I’m worth it” phase, so I said to myself, “Biconical! Great!” Then, my head slightly tilted and one hand on my hip, I thought “If you tell me it has ‘extra softness,” we’re in business!”

Softness…a reassuring word. Visions of brioche, chocolates, candy… soothing images, but nothing sensual, of course, given my current status.

I stood motionless for ten long seconds, index finger posed on my lips, nodding slightly toward the mattress, when the salesman finally offered to show me a bed frame.

So here I am, in my bed… alone. All the better. More room for me. No big arm to crush me, no sweaty body pressed up against mine.

Still, when I went to bed last night, I took the left side of the bed and assumed the fetal position to make room. As if I was expecting a man to slip under the covers and give a little grunt as he slid over and slipped his hand between my thighs…

During the night, I remembered that I was single now, so I could stretch out and take both sides of the bed. I could lie down diagonally if I wanted. It sure is a nice feeling to have your own nice, clean bed when you move your leg a few inches over…

It must be morning by now. It won’t be long until my alarm wakes me with its sweet melody. Half-awake, I notice the position I’ve ended up in: spread-eagled in the middle of the bed, my comforter pulled up to the tip of my nose, my hands grabbing the headboard on either side of my face. The alarm rings. No, I’m not getting up. My eyelids don’t so much as flutter. Big deal—I’ll just show up late for work.

And there I stay, nestled under my new comforter, floating in the gentle aroma of lavender I perfumed my pillows with.

Now my bed is awash in sunbeams. And though I should feel guilty, I delight in the freedom to arrive late. I won’t make any excuses—I’ll just say that I was happily stretched out in my new bed under my new comforter.

Translated from french by Kenneth Barger 🙂

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