“What’s up?” I gasped, yanking the door. Greer stood there in her robe, cool as ice. “Oh, just thought of something for tomorrow’s shopping.”
I stared.
“It’s half past eleven.”
“That late? Time slips. Anyway, grab the skim milk, not that heavy full kind you get.”
She turned and padded off, leaving me wired and reeling.
Fintan didn’t twitch. He crashes hard after hospital shifts, out cold head hits pillow. At midnight, the TV downstairs blared right under our room.
Bass from some late flick shook the floor. I dragged down, legs lead, tired. “Greer, turn it down?
Up in five hours.”
She glanced up, eyes wide and pure. “Oh sweetie, ears ain’t sharp now. If noise bugs you, grab plugs.
Can’t doze without hum.”
“But you’re not even tuned in. On your phone.”
“Sound unwinds me.”
Wanted to yell. Went back up, shoved pillow over ears, blasts and chat drilling through.
At 1 a.m., microwave beeped. Then clinks of plates, slams of doors, her off-tune hum while snacking. Lay dark, eyes grit, knew four hours to function.
This turned our pattern. Night after night. “You look beat,” my client Sage said one morning, scanning my face.
“You okay?”
Faked grin filing her nails. “Just rough shut-eye. Kin crashing.”
“Oh, tough.
How long visit?”
“Not sure.”
Truth? No clue how much longer I could take. Eyes sand-rough.
Patience frayed. Even chats felt too much. And Greer?
Napped three hours afternoons, stretched on our couch like queen. “You oughta care for you better,” she’d say, watching me shuffle. “Coffee no swap for real rest, know.”
Wanted to hurl.
Grinned, nodded, inside chipped more. Fintan saw tired, but no grasp how deep. How?
Slept sound through every Greer midnight mess. To him, nights calm. “Mom’s easing in good,” he said one evening, kissing my brow.
“Thanks for rolling welcome. Know it’s shift.”
Almost spilled then… almost laid out his mom tore my sleep and head. But he looked so thankful, eased helping mom.
Knew his love for her, his give to be him. So zipped, felt me unwind. Break hit Thursday night.
12:15 a.m., Greer hammered our door like break-in. “Fire! Smell gas!
Something smokes!”
Flew bed, gut throat. Fintan night shift, solo raced down, dreading sight. Oven cranked.
Not warm, full blast empty. “Greer!” gasped, killing heat. “What?”
Stood door, arms cross.
“Told smelled. Check gear bed-prep better.”
“But I didn’t flick. You?”
Shrug.
“Maybe warmed scraps earlier. Forgot. Happens.
Thank spot before blaze.”
Stared, ice truth flood. She’d lit oven. Made scare, woke panic.
Now acted I owed thanks. Padded bed, left me kitchen 12:30 a.m., shook tired and mad. Night, ceiling-stare body begged sleep denied, clocked change due.
Tried kind. Tried talk. Tried quiet suffer.
Tried all. None stuck. Wanted home calm, take back.
Next afternoon, Greer hair-out, moved house set. Logged router, auto-off 11:30 p.m., reboot 6 a.m. Plugged living TV timer same cut.
Killed microwave beep. Tweaked kitchen strip night-shut. Felt silly, kid-proof.
But mind: My home too. Right guard function. Bed night, waited.
11:30 sharp, TV mid-word cut. Quiet blanketed house bless. Held breath, ear.
Greer steps down. Mutter, remote fiddle. Nothing.
Steps room-ward. Door shut. First weeks, full night sleep.
Woke sun window-stream next morn. Clear head, pep, near human. Greer kitchen first, scowled brewer.
“House wires bad,” she snapped, mug slam counter. “All night-shut random. Call fix.”
Set mug slow, savored.
“Odd. Maybe hint more rest all.”
Eyes slit. “Mean what?”
“Just late no good none.”
Mouth argue, but walked off.
Next night, tried. TV 11 p.m., phone-set. 11:30, dark all.
Grinned pillow, drifted sleep. Third morn, Greer boiled. “Place power mess,” hissed, cup bang.
“Night-cut everything. Get help.”
Set mug, eyed straight. “Greer, straight talk.
Can’t lose sleep nights. Run shop home. Clients count me.
Work maybe light you, but pays bills, means me.”
Face red-flush. “Say on purpose? You cut?”
“Say when night-noise rolled, ignored asks quiet, found fix.
Home mine too.”
“Childish!”
“No, Greer. Hold on. Not young.
Three-hour chop no work. Day starts five. Keep up one-two, barely see.
Need home calm.”
Stared, mouth agape. Thought blow. Then face shift.
“Didn’t clock bad,” she said last, voice drop. “Thought overdid.”
“Wasn’t. Tried tell.
Brush off, what choice?”
Quiet hung. Greer hands-down. “Maybe thoughtless.
Guess only my need. Not hit you.”
Not full sorry. Close enough.
Night, house hush. No midnight mess. No blast TV.
Just heat soft hum, breath steady sleep weeks-deep. Next days, eased slow. Greer still nosy digs, long yarns.
But night wild quit. Even shocked morn, brewed pre-down. “Since up early always,” she said awkward, eyes dodge.
“Thanks, Greer. Real kind.”
Not flawless. Bit step.
Month end, signed new flat lease. Last night us, sat kitchen table ‘cross. “Thought,” she said slow, trace cup rim.
“Unfair you. Messed life, no respect space, acted mine house. Sorry.”
Words blindsided.
“Thanks. Means lot.”
Nod. “Patient no need.
Taught lines. Try recall.”
Greer left next morn, house felt shift. Quiet not bare.
Peaceful. Stood kitchen, mug hand, sun rise our corner world. Fintan arms back-wrap.
“Okay?” asked. “Yeah,” leaned him. “Really.”
Clocked then, hard family lessons no always give.
Sometimes balance, know bend time stand, guard own calm no sorry. Greer likely never smooth. But now knows home, respect two-way.
Sometimes push hardest need lines most. Stand self no greedy. Only survive way.
End, home sanctuary back. Fought that, do again heartbeat.
