Energy

Johan reached out for a cheeky squeeze.

Not to be confused with a squeaky cheese, by the way. Such as the one Martha had just trodden on, on her way back from Manson's bedroom. This caused a moment of panic, sure that Manson's little voice would pipe up from the nursery, or there would be the dreaded thud of little feet coming after her. Or a thin wail would gust from her 8own room where little Sinclaire was (for now at least) sleeping.

Such was her tension and fatigue from putting the darling brat to bed for the nineteenth (or maybe the twentieth) time that evening, Martha was not in the mood. It took all her restraint and self discipline not to slap Johan's hand away. Harsh words were bitten back and caged behind teeth that threatened to break if she clenched them any tighter.

Bags slung low under eyes that stared into the middle distance. Her hair frizzed out at the edges. Martha spent half a moment trying to remember if she'd brushed it yesterday... or was it the day before? Ignoring the baby sick on her leggings, the wedge-shaped yellow dog toy forgotten in her hands, Martha allowed the squeeze.

She did not throw anything at him. Did not leap out of the window rather than being touched (again) by pawing hands that wanted something.

It had been weeks since they'd had sex, and much longer since she'd enjoyed it.

The other night had seen a scene unfold just like this, but his touch had been tentative and his tone understanding and supportive when he said, "Are you sure you're not too tired?"

She'd rested one of her hands on his, leaned in close, and whispered, "Absolutely bloody knackered, babe." He'd held her for a while, and she'd got an early night.

Tonight, he was silent, and less tentative.

When he tilted her face to his, she closed her eyes and thought hard about the time, just a few short years ago, when she couldn't keep her hands off him. Couldn't get his clothes off fast enough, couldn't sate her hunger for his body. Remember that? Remember what that felt like? Martha held that feeling in her mind, and tried to super-impose it onto now. This.

Tried.

"Want a bittit."

Johan didn't even groan when he pulled away and flopped back on the couch. He let her get up and go and put Manson back to bed as if this was her task.

+

The following night, Johan suggested ordering a takeaway. He thought his chances of intimacy would be better if Martha had less to do in the way of cooking and cleaning and so on. Martha shrugged listlessly when he suggested it. He chose to take this as a Yes.

When he asked where the takeaway menus were, she gave him a dead sort of look. One that was becoming all too familiar lately. It said, Really? It was an expression that should have been incredulous, but it lacked energy.

With a sigh, she reminded him they were in the second drawer down in the kitchen. Affronted, if not determined to prove himself useful, Johan went into the kitchen and rummaged in the drawer.

"Babe..." he called out, in a tone that threatened a question.

Martha steeled herself to make yet another trivial decision. She bit back an array of responses with a shocking amount of resrraint.

I don't care what we have.

You know what I like by now.

I'm too tired to give a shit.

Order whatever has the quickest delivery time so I don't fall asleep before it gets here.

Oh, Christ on a bendy bus, he was walking towards her, staring at the leaflet in his hands as if he'd never seen a picture of Peking Duck before...

"Have you seen this?" He held it out to her, and Martha arranged her face into what she hoped was a patient and curious expression.

It wasn't Peking Duck.

ENERJi

Is your little darling struggling to sleep?

Do you feel drained?

When was the last time any of you got a good night's sleep?

WE CAN HELP!

"What the hell is this?" she muttered.

"Mummmmmyyyyyyyyyyyy!" Martha had the phone in her hand and dialling the number before the toddler said another word.

+

It was dark when they pulled up outside the building. It looked like a warehouse. A garish sign across the front showed a bouquet of grinning jungle animals.

"This just looks like one of those soft play places..." Johan sounded uncertain.

"This has to be the right place," Martha was doubtful, too, "Because look, it's got the company name up there above the lion and giraffe..."

Johan got Manson out of his car seat, and Martha carried Sinclair in hers. Both were in their pyjamas ready for bed. The woman on the phone had said to bring Manson in like that, because it would be easier. She'd had a friendly and professional tone, and Martha hadn't the energy to argue or question it.

They went inside.

It was exactly like a soft play, except instead of being allowed in for free because she was barely four months old, the staff were reluctant to let Sinclaire in at all.

"It's not recommended for babies her age," Tansy said, small white teeth digging into a plump and glossy lower lip.

Both parents rolled their eyes. "If she struggles with any of the equipment, we're right here."

Tansy turned away with a swish of her neat pony tail to speak with her supervisor.

"It's fine!!" she trilled, when she came back. Her cheeks dimpled in a cheery smile. "Just this once, as long as you only stay a short time. You might notice she sleeps longer than usual tonight, and she might be drowsy tomorrow... Wait, she wasn't prem was she?"

This didn't sound like a terrible outcome to Martha and Johan, who both shook their heads.

Tansy brandished a red wristband at them for Manson to wear.

"Very important he comes out when the whistle blows," she said.

"Ummm..." The parents thought about all the times Manson had to stop doing something he enjoyed. It wasn't a pretty picture. Last time he'd been to a soft play, Martha had to wait for him to fall asleep in her lap and then try to sneak him into the car without waking him. It hadn't gone well.

Tansy was still talking. The words washed over them both. They paid the entrance fee, signed a bit of paper (probably a waiver) then fastened the band around Manson's chubby little wrist. All four of them passed through a small metal gate. It beeped.

They were there for less than an hour when Manson seemed to be running out of steam. When the whistle blew, he went with them as placid as a lamb. Tansy waved at them, and encouraged them to come back any timr. She pointed to a sign on the wall beside the counter that said OPEN 24 HRS.

Manson was asleep before the car started moving, and he didn't wake up when they transferred him to his bed. He slept in until 9am the following morning. His parents were thrilled. "It's like magic!" they said. They even had sex.

Sinclaire was, as predicted, a bit drowsy, and uninterested in feeding, but this seemed a small price to pay. Johan was already looking up subscription prices and vowing to go back as soon as possible.

+

The second visit was just as successful as the first, except Martha had to stay in the car with the baby.

"It looks like Tansy signed you in on your last visit," said a new staff member. She didn't look anything like Tansy, really, but she had the same uniform, same cap, same bright smile and cheery tone. "Tansy should have explained... Growth in the first year is quite intensive so we really have to be careful how much energy we.... Look, I'll give you a leaflet..."

Johan carried Manson out an hour later, already asleep. He snored on the car ride home, and stayed asleep for the next twelve hours. His parents beamed.

+

On their third visit, Johan paid the subscription fee. This worked out cheaper than paying each time. It meant Manson got a shiny new wristband. A white one with flashing red lights.

"We use this to log his contribution," said Not-Tansy, "You should see a reduction in your next energy bill... Honestly, he's an absolute goldmine. Your subscription will pay for itself in no time!"

+

On their fifth visit, another Tansy suggested a way of Harvesting at home.

"So much more convenient," she said. "You won't have to bring him here each time to help him sleep."

"We'll think about it," Johan said.

"There's quite an outlay initially, I won't lie... But in the end, you won't have any more electricity bills. The energy companies will be paying you."

+

Okay, Manson was a bit small and sickly looking, and so was his little sister. No more so than the other kids their age. Kids grew a little slower than previous generations, and hit their milestones a smidge later. So what? It would have been mad to ignore this almost inexhaustible supply of energy.

++++++++

Thank you for reading!