Trying to collect himself and checking his location, Bani feels the unmistakable warmth of the bed. It’s still dark but he knows very well that he just woke up neither from a leather-clad, double deck bed nor from a Lazy Boy, both of which where he has perfected 5-minute naps in almost a year; more so in the recent weeks when his sleeping pattern has been abnormal. Well, more than just his sleeping pattern, actually.
Few minutes more of staring blankly at the Discovery program on the wall- mounted TV, he fumbles for his phone, placed alongside the TV’s and air conditioner’s remote control, and an empty liquor glass. “It’s 5 AM,” Bani silently reads from the blinding glare of his Nokia.
Bani soon realized that the cheap gin from his Black Saturday night cap has dried up where it spilled just barely a foot away from where his little boy, Raffy, lies. Just like last week, he has decided to return home from a planned sleepover with the family Bani has jokingly called ‘The Wilsons,’ Raffy being Dennis the Menace.
“Once again, he wants back,” the puzzled ‘Mrs. Wilson’ who lives just a couple of houses away, tells of Raffy who used to enjoy spending the night with them.
An hour more and Raffy remains static, his left thumb in his mouth, eyes partially shut. “His eyes look a lot like you,” he remembers the usual line his wife would tell him, referring to the partially opened eyes. Friends have told him it also means that he distrust people. Bani would agree.
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