Whistler pt 2

2:00 AM

The hum of the air conditioner rumbled through the ducts and hissed softly from the vents throughout the house, bringing with it a cooling relief to an otherwise sweltering spring night.

Chris lay on his back, lost in thought, his head propped with ergonomic pillows designed to coax the body into rest. A California King sleep bed, calibrated to an ideal setting, should have cradled him into sleep by now. An arm’s length away, his lover—the man of his dreams—slept soundly, turned slightly away from him, breathing slow and steady.

Over the years, Chris had employed plenty of tricks to try to get a good night’s sleep, but lately sleep only came when the night gave up and turned into morning.

Jason never seemed to struggle the same way. Maybe it was the medication. The moment his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light. Sometimes, age pulled him awake in the middle of the night to shuffle to the bathroom like any other middle-aged man, but once he returned to bed, sleep reclaimed him easily.

Not Chris.

The insomnia could be unbearable.

Time for the earbuds and the MP3 player, I guess, he thought to himself.

He lay there listening as Tori Amos drifted softly through his head—

“China all the way to New York

I can feel the distance getting close

You’re right next to me

But I need an airplane

I can feel the distance as you breathe.”

The lyrics made him think of Jason. It didn’t help him sleep. Instead, it made him wonder why Jason was turned away from him. How had they aged so suddenly? Once they were young men, fucking through the night without thought or consequence. Now they were middle-aged fathers with schedules, health plans, and gentle reminders from their couples therapist to be good to one another.

At 2:15 AM, the air conditioner clicked off.

A familiar hand slid beneath Chris’s nightshirt as Jason shifted closer, nuzzling into his side.

“You okay, baby?” Jason whispered, voice heavy with sleep, eyes still closed.

Chris forgot everything that had weighed on him just moments before. He cupped Jason’s hand, kissed his forehead gently.

“I’m good, Bubba,” he said, closing his eyes.

Jason inhaled slowly.

“You smell intoxicating,” he murmured—then drifted back to sleep, safe in Chris’s embrace.