Page 151 of Hide and Keep

“You know me…super horny. All the time.”

Appalled at how desperate I’m making myself look, my entire body cringes all the way down to my toes. I’ll look more desperate if he finds out the truth though.

There’s some shuffling around on his mattress and I can just make out him flipping to his back, his head lifted to see me.

“That’s really why you came in here?”

The real reason I came in here is because lying with Crue while he’s asleep is the only time I get him wholly, without judgement.

“Sure?”

More shuffling as he relaxes, then, “Draw me something. I think there’s a pen in the desk.”

“Is that another one of your stipulations for having sex with—”

“Just draw me something. We’re not having sex tonight.”

I remove my shoulders from my ears, letting them hang normally, but argue, “It’s morning and I can’t draw in the dark.”

“Turn on the lamp.”

“Won’t that bother you?”

“There you go again.”

I scowl. “What?”

“Caring about me.”

If only he knew.

“Maybe I just don’t want you to see the pillow coming when I cover your face with it.”

Another deep, sleepy chuckle, this one pulling a smile from me.

“If you think I’m up your ass now, wait until I haunt you in the afterlife.”

“What’s your unfinished business?”

“My what?” comes out muffled.

“Only people with unfinished business become ghosts.” I shrug even though he can’t see it. “At least that’s what the movies always say.”

Crue doesn’t respond for so long I assume he fell asleep, until finally, he says, “Everything.”

I think about that for a while and about how true it feels for me, too. How do you leave life if you’ve never really lived one? I can see why some choose not to.

“What should I draw on?”

My only answer is heavy breathing, and when I turn on the lamp, Crue’s eyes are shut, his face serene. In my afterlife, I hope I’ll get the freedom I so desperately crave in this life. An eternity of watching Crue sleep wouldn’t be enough, but I’d savor every minute of it just like I do now.

This time I do pick up those familiar notes of honey, the kind in a glass jar sitting on a table, with a walnut dipper sticking out of it as the sun streams through the window making it warm and pourable.

She’s in here, with me.

Play it cool.

Fighting a hard-on, I slowly roll to my back, then stretch my arms out to the sides. People stretch every morning. It’s not unusual.

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