When I opened the door Lochlan looked up in surprise. He was propped up against pillows on our bed, reading glasses on, hair wild, still wearing jeans and a long-sleeved thermal t-shirt. He had both lights on and was reading, a glass of untouched whiskey and his phone at his side.
The book hit the floor and he was in front of me in seconds. Everything okay?
Yes. I got sent home after dinner with my present. Look. I open the box and try to show him the float but he's sorting out everything before that.
What happened?
I relay the evening to him as his tension visibly exits his body and then he pulls me in close to hold. The box juts up painfully against my collarbone and he finally takes it, placing it securely on the bureau as he turns and takes his shirt off.
So no nights?
He wants things to get better. I think he's really trying.
That or he doesn't want your little germy self making him sick too.
Could be.
He smiles so languidly I think I might cry as he starts in on me, taking me out of my things, kissing my forehead (worn smooth again, Christ. I wish they'd kiss other parts), gently leading me back to his side of the bed, picking up the book and putting it on the shelf below the drawer, taking off his glasses, then turning off the lights, plunging us into the warm dark of the solstice interrupted, an event I will still forever hate and one he reluctantly celebrates. He twists me away from him and then pulls me back in close, my back against his chest, wrapping his arms tight around me. With his breath against the top of my head and his arms like that, keeping me pinned hard into him I find an easy rhythm to match his and we finish the night the way he wanted but couldn't hope for. When Lochlan lets go just enough for me to catch my breath he waits barely a heartbeat before pulling me back in, his mouth against my ear.
Finally got what I wished for back in 1980.
We've done this a million times, Locket.
No. I wished for him to not touch you anymore.
He hadn't touched me yet, though.
Sure he had. You just called it affection.
Still do.
I know you do. My new wish is for you to stop doing that.
Never!
He laughs. So, so relieved that you're home where you belong.
Yeah, me too.
If you're not okay with going there, we can stop-
It's fine. It's just tough sometimes.
I can only imagine how hard it is. His arm tighten again and he's asleep in seconds, a soft purr of a snore rising from his uncongested face. I'm jealous, as my nose is blocked and I'm going to sound like a chainsaw.
But I can't fall asleep.
***
This morning there was an envelope in my coffee cup. Inside a beautiful lace-cut page with Caleb's handwriting.
Tonight. It's not Christmas Eve yet.
Oh, well, there he is. Right where I left him.
I'll go see him. Any hint of tenderness in Lochlan's very being just let out with an audible snap. There goes my solstice wish. It was nice while it lasted. He reads my mind. Yeah, funny how that works, isn't it?
The book hit the floor and he was in front of me in seconds. Everything okay?
Yes. I got sent home after dinner with my present. Look. I open the box and try to show him the float but he's sorting out everything before that.
What happened?
I relay the evening to him as his tension visibly exits his body and then he pulls me in close to hold. The box juts up painfully against my collarbone and he finally takes it, placing it securely on the bureau as he turns and takes his shirt off.
So no nights?
He wants things to get better. I think he's really trying.
That or he doesn't want your little germy self making him sick too.
Could be.
He smiles so languidly I think I might cry as he starts in on me, taking me out of my things, kissing my forehead (worn smooth again, Christ. I wish they'd kiss other parts), gently leading me back to his side of the bed, picking up the book and putting it on the shelf below the drawer, taking off his glasses, then turning off the lights, plunging us into the warm dark of the solstice interrupted, an event I will still forever hate and one he reluctantly celebrates. He twists me away from him and then pulls me back in close, my back against his chest, wrapping his arms tight around me. With his breath against the top of my head and his arms like that, keeping me pinned hard into him I find an easy rhythm to match his and we finish the night the way he wanted but couldn't hope for. When Lochlan lets go just enough for me to catch my breath he waits barely a heartbeat before pulling me back in, his mouth against my ear.
Finally got what I wished for back in 1980.
We've done this a million times, Locket.
No. I wished for him to not touch you anymore.
He hadn't touched me yet, though.
Sure he had. You just called it affection.
Still do.
I know you do. My new wish is for you to stop doing that.
Never!
He laughs. So, so relieved that you're home where you belong.
Yeah, me too.
If you're not okay with going there, we can stop-
It's fine. It's just tough sometimes.
I can only imagine how hard it is. His arm tighten again and he's asleep in seconds, a soft purr of a snore rising from his uncongested face. I'm jealous, as my nose is blocked and I'm going to sound like a chainsaw.
But I can't fall asleep.
***
This morning there was an envelope in my coffee cup. Inside a beautiful lace-cut page with Caleb's handwriting.
Tonight. It's not Christmas Eve yet.
Oh, well, there he is. Right where I left him.
I'll go see him. Any hint of tenderness in Lochlan's very being just let out with an audible snap. There goes my solstice wish. It was nice while it lasted. He reads my mind. Yeah, funny how that works, isn't it?