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kerry
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the affection i have for my mattress is similar to the affection i had for my childhood pets–the birds, the fish, the hamster–-i snuggle into the nest my body has made over time, and i think, “i love you, mattress.”
when i stay at my parents’ house i sleep on a mattress barely softer than a sleeping bag on the hard ground and i wake up grouchy with sore hips and shoulders, and i slink into the kitchen, pour myself a cup of weak coffee, and grumble, “why do you have this horrible fucking mattress on the bed? surely it isn’t the one i had as a kid.”
and they always say no, that one was old, this one is good for your back!
my mattress in berkeley was a twin and very thin, and i inherited it from youness, who had been studying at the university. when he went home to casablanca i moved out of olivia’s bed and into the closet where he had been sleeping, and it was like a tomb in there, and the only furniture i had was a plastic crate to put my phone and clock on and “shelves” that were actually two by fours nailed to the wall.
when olivia and i moved to the_coop in oakland to live with becky i carried my mattress under my arm, and i bought an old futon mattress to put underneath, to lift it up off the cold floor, and in this room i still didn’t really have furniture besides that same crate, eventually an ornate blue and white trunk i took (stole) from work, and a red lamp i bought in fruitvale and still have.
olivia didn’t have a mattress. she slept in a pile of blankets on the hardwood floor in her bedroom, which was the biggest. her aunt bought her a mattress as a christmas gift and the gesture moved olivia to tears because mattresses are not cheap and her aunt was not wealthy
(but i think her aunt probably had more money than olivia realized, seeing as she owned a house in berkeley).
on lowry street in atlanta i slept on another futon and i often woke up in the middle of the night crying in agony, not entirely because of the futon, but because i’d recently fractured two vertebrae and the futon didn’t provide enough support. he would get me tylenol and rub my back and stroke my hair until i stopped crying.
after that was a pillowtop, which was terrible because the sheets didn’t fit over it and soon we were both waking up in pain, wondering whether it was the mattress or some sign of aging. so this mattress was an investment and an agreement: no gifts this christmas, pinky swear. no surprises, no “just because”s. it’s the mattress and only the mattress. we both kept our promise.
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