8. Night Visitor
My eyes flutter open in the dark but slowly drift closed again. The bed is so soft and warm, so much warmer than the plastic pump-up bed that seems to always have a chilly, stickiness to it, no matter how many layers I put between it and my skin.
I sigh contentedly. The two glasses of whiskey probably help with the heaviness of my eyelids. We drank companionably while the three of us discussed what needed to be done to Glenda. The internet gave no limit of ideas and with the old farm as a treasure trove, the siblings are certain they’ll have the material, paint, upholstery and historic artifacts needed to create a unique space. I made a projection on the back of an envelope of income versus expenditure on cleaning and other overheads. Trevor mumbled that he could really use my accountancy skills for everything on the farm, not only Glenda. He admitted he was never great in school, and I got the impression that Julie has done the books for the farm the last years.
The image of the big man’s cheeks tinting as he admitted his lack of education is behind my eyelids as my thoughts start swimming back to oblivion, but there it is again, the sound that woke me in the first place.
The quiet squeak of the door.
My eyes shoot open. I left it ajar so I could hear Adam if he was to wake during the night, but the shadow coming closer is way too big to be my son. I hold my breath, heart thumping. The mattress dips. Gentle pulling of the duvet as someone crawls under it.
“Jamie,” is whispered in the silence.
I swallow hard. “What are you doing here?”
The form next to me stills for a second. “I-I couldn’t sleep.”
“I don’t know if you should be here – I’m a guest in your house and your brother wouldn’t be happy.”
“Please, I…” The bedsheet tugs again as Julie snuggles closer. “I can’t…”
“You can’t what?”
“I can’t stop thinking about our kiss. I want to do it again.”
Hot breath on my cheek is the warning before her soft lips brush across it. I tilt my head before she can find my mouth.
“Trevor will not be happy,” I mumble, an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach as naked legs brush up against mine.
Julie giggles. “Trevor will be jealous…”
“W-what?”
“He, um, he likes men.”
“He’s gay?”
“Yeah. But he keeps saying he hasn’t got time to date, so he’ll be jealous that I get some and he’s not.” Her hand skates over the skin of my abs. “And such a handsome man, too.”
Trevor is gay. He likes men. I don’t know why I’m surprised – he had me up against the wall in the barn. For him it wasn’t testing boundaries or experimenting. For him it was the real thing. What was it for me? My pulse starts pumping faster.. Am I…
“I, um, I’m not gay.”
Julie lets out another giggle. “I’d hope not!”
Surely, I’m not gay? After all, I’ve been married to a woman. But as the lips of this soft, sweet woman once again search for mine, I pull away.
“Julie…”
“I want…”
Her fingers trail down my chest. I grab her wrist before she reaches my boxers.
“We can’t risk Trevor finding you here,” I insist, and the urgency in my voice finally makes her inch away. I let out a sigh of relief.