All I Need - Mrs. Frankie Morales

                                    

                                          

"In my head, I find it's hard to think
Making out, your hand is on my cheek
Kiss me slowly so I can fall asleep
You are my baby
That's all I need"

You woke from your nap when you felt the bed shift next to you. The room was still dark. Soft light poured in through a gap in the curtains but you blocked out whatever you could. Frankie slid in, sitting back against the headboard. You wiggled over in the bed to rest your head on his lap and closed your eyes again.
"I'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean to wake you up." Frankie ran his hand against your hair.
"It's okay. I shouldn't sleep all afternoon or I'll be up all night." You gently yawned.
"How are you feeling?"
You tried to hold back the tears in your eyes. "A little better. The dark always helps." You couldn't help how emotional you felt during your bad pain days. It was involuntarily, the way you'd cry. He never judged you for just letting it out. He rubbed his hand across your back as you took a deep breath.
"Did you drink all your water when you took your medicine?" He was always so good, making sure you were taking care of yourself. You were the first to neglect yourself even when you had one of your headaches. 
"Mhm. Can you put something on the tv? I just want to listen."
"Sure thing, baby." You felt his arm flex as he picked up the remote and flipped on the TV. Light shined against your closed eyelids then the static of the HBO title card crackled before the opening notes of the theme song played. 
You smiled. "My favorite."
"Of course." Frankie rubbed soft circles against your temple as you lay in his lap. You didn't know if it helped your headache, but it definitely felt like relief. He soothed an ache in you just by being there. Frankie understood your limitations, cared for you and the baby when you had a flare up. Chronic pain is a strange thing. You went through your life feeling its low hum all the time like the fuzz and distortion of an old concert bootleg. At first it was all you could focus on but then the longer it went on, it just sort of faded into the background. Frankie made you feel more in tune with the world, turning down the proverbial volume until it was just you and him. 
The TV was still on when your eyes fluttered open. The room was still dark. No light threatened to permeate the curtains. The clock on the wall read 5:37. Frankie was snoring softly. His mouth hung open as he laid on his back, propped up on a pillow. He held her against his chest. 
Elena. From the moment she was born, she was his. You'd never seen him as happy as the first time he held her. Her small body rose and fell with his breath, tiny hands clinging to his chest hair. It was a familiar sight in the early morning, one you definitely weren't tired of. 
Quietly, you crawled out of the bed to go to the bathroom. When you came back, you lifted your daughter off his chest and hugged her softly before you put her in the crib next to his side of the bed. He loved taking care of her. 
You slid yourself back under the sheets and stared at him. The wrinkles of the little double chin squished into his neck. His hair was always messy and unkempt, but especially so as he dug himself deeper in the pillow. Gently, you grazed your fingers over the bald patch in his beard. He was so handsome even when he slept.