Me Spoon You
With Liko’s presence lingering in the farmhouse, along with the scent of his aftershave, Dane was horned up to distraction.
All the rest of the day, he twisted and writhed and burned with wanting.
To the point where he considered the Argentinian farrier who lived in a trailer parked at Kulleseid’s Orchard.
The man was terrifyingly gorgeous, and he’d cut quite an impressive swathe through the single population of Warwick Township, male and female.
So Dane was pretty confident if he rapped on Pao’s door and said with no preamble, Wanna fuck? he wouldn’t be turned away.
But it wasn’t what he wanted. Nor how he operated. He’d never mindlessly fucked someone just to scratch an itch, though he was rabidly curious about people who did. The opportunity had knocked once or twice in the years before he met Ethan and Nomi, but Dane always chickened out.
“I declined politely for my own reasons,” he clarified aloud, for absolutely no one’s benefit.
God, he was horny.
Horny and lonely.
Which was a suck-ass combination.
He picked up his phone, contemplated texting Liko, then put the phone down again.
His body screamed for connection. For skin-on-skin contact.
For passion and release and afterglow. He lay in the big king bed, wanting to feel someone’s naked touch, taste someone’s open-mouthed kiss.
The house contracted around him, holding him in a palm that was both cupped and close, yet empty and forlorn.
He loved this house with all his heart. He didn’t want to leave. But goddamn, it just wasn’t built for one person. On bad nights like this, he swore he could hear it crying. Weeping and longing for the familiar buzz of activity and not understanding where it went.
Dane had no idea how superb his domestic life was until he found himself alone in this monster of a house.
Every day he was made painfully aware of the unconscious divisions of labor.
So many arrangements that developed as a matter of skill or preference.
Like the dusting. Dane had lived in this house blissfully unaware of dust because it was Ethan’s personal nemesis.
He assigned himself the task, saying he did some of his best thinking while dusting.
Now a film coated every horizontal service.
Tumbleweeds of gray gunk gathered in corners and Dane had no idea where they came from.
For twenty-two years, he’d handled the household bills because he was good at.
He liked data, numbers, a bottom line, reconciling accounts to the penny.
He’d never been a car person—if it had four wheels and a radio and got him from here to there, he was content.
Ethan and Nomi were the auto aficionados, so they handled all the auto hassle. Now that hassle was Dane’s to handle.
All three hares could cook well, but Nomi was hands-down best at it.
Ethan was a fantastic grocery shopper, but Nomi made him lists because only she knew what was actually in the fridge, the pantry, and the extra freezer.
The same way Dane noticed when the house was down to three rolls of toilet paper and two extra lightbulbs, or how Ethan declared the horde of jackets, coats, boots and shoes in the mudroom needed to be culled.
When it came to the house, they each had something they specialized in, something they were neurotic about, and things they outright hated.
Nomi put clean sheets on the beds, but only Dane noticed when mattresses needed to be flipped.
Ethan was the unquestioned interior decorator, deciding when furniture needed to be replaced, a new rug bought, paintings and art rearranged, but it was Dane who scheduled delivery, met the truck, and took the old stuff to the dump.
Dane who kept the tool bench organized and always knew where the tape measure was.
He hated things not put back where they belonged.
Nomi hated when crumbs were left on kitchen counters.
Ethan hated when picture frames were askew.
Dane would happily fold seven baskets of laundry, but left it in piles on the couch and dining room table because he hated putting it away.
Same with vacuuming—he’d vacuum all day, every day, if someone else put the damn thing away when he was done.
“Vacuum groom is here, my liege,” Ethan said, winding up the cord. “I shall stable your steed.”
Now Dane’s duties had tripled. Managing a big house as a sole occupant felt like battling a dragon. Making dinner for one was a pathetic task he had to face every night.
“Jesus fuck, Dane, hire a cleaning person,” Maisie said. “Subscribe to a meal plan, order in, go out. Who cares?”
He clung to Maisie and Huff and their sage, sound advice.
They invited him over often, included him, lifted him up.
When Dane confessed he’d been sleeping in one of the spare bedrooms since Nomi died, but was toying with the idea of moving back to the master suite, the Jensens applauded the positive attitude and showed up to help him make it feel like a different room.
They painted one wall a handsome dark orange and hung new curtains.
They moved the dresser, put the headboard against a different wall, picked new bedding.
Some new lamps. Dane kept the gorgeous 4x5 portrait called Nomi With Dusk Tiara where it was, because he truly loved looking at it, but he switched out some of the smaller pictures.
The updates didn’t erase Nomi’s existence, they just gave a new perspective.
And Dane found that while he didn’t fall asleep any easier, once he fell, he stayed asleep.
Now he lay in the center of the big mattress, rolling first to the side closest to the bathroom, where Nomi always slept.
Then toward the other side, which was his.
Sides were for sleeping, the center was for sex.
They threw each other all over this bed, but when it was time to sleep, they separated to the edges, all business.
Ethan didn’t often come in with them. He functioned on little rest and his creativity kept bizarre business hours, showing up to party at nine or ten in the evenings. When Ethan came into the master bedroom, it was usually in the darkest hours before dawn.
“Are you decent?” he whispered.
“No,” Dane mumbled, even though they were.
Ethan crawled up the mattress from the foot of the bed, under the comforter. He’d showered, and his body was cool, damp and bright as it settled into the warm space between the sleeping bodies.
“Hold still,” Dane muttered.
“Spoon me,” Ethan said to Nomi.
“Hm?”
“Spoon.”
A throat-clearing moan—“Hasenpfeffer, you’re trying to kill me”—and a shuffle of bodies. Through cracked eyes, Dane saw Nomi’s hand slide around Ethan’s waist and against his heart. Ethan put palms on Dane’s chest and pushed at him.
“Turn over. Me spoon you.”
Dane groaned and grunted as he rolled away. “Stop killing me.”
“Shh.” Then Ethan’s body was tight up against Dane’s back, his hand on Dane’s heart. Soon the three hares were still and together and sleeping, and it was so sweet. Nothing sweeter than being asleep in the down of hares, chasing each other in dreams.
When Dane woke, Ethan’s hand had gone from his heart to his lap, inside his pajama pants, getting him hard. Then Ethan exited at the foot of the bed, laughing.
“I fluffed him for you, Nome.”
“Swine,” Nomi groaned.
“Dog,” Dane growled.
“I’ll make coffee.”
“Get out,” the bedmates cried, then made love when the door closed.
Dane gave up, got up and took a Xanax. He went back to bed and thought about Liko. Wondered what he was doing. Was he awake? Working? Writing? Playing the game? Curled in a ball on the floor, crying for his son?
Dane picked up his phone, went as far as opening messages, then put the phone down again. His hand hesitated, then slipped down the front of his sweats.
If you’re gonna do this, then do it.
He was such a cerebral lover, he couldn’t fantasize about anything the least bit separated from reality. He didn’t jerk off to celebrities or entertain pizza delivery boys. If the scenario wasn’t believable in his heart, it went nowhere in his hand.
He moved over to his old side of the bed.
He looked toward the bathroom, imagined a light turning off and Liko coming out.
It was the man from the New Year’s Eve party, but with the graying hair and beard of today.
A man who harbored great sadness, but no longer looked like a shipwreck.
Tall and built within soft sleep clothes, which he shed with unconscious ease.
He crawled onto the bed and held still, poised on his knees, looking at Dane.
No, not looking at you, Diane said. We’re not even here. This is his bed. He’s alone. He doesn’t know we’re watching.
Now it clicked in. Dane’s bottom lip moved a little behind his top teeth as he inhaled slow and deep, rolling on his side. Liko’s eyes closed as he matched the inhale and exhale, his head bowed a little, a tiny smile lifting a corner of his mouth.
He’s thinking about you, Diane said. He forgot but he remembered. He’s remembering right now. The party. The roof. The anonymity. The feel of your face under his lips. Your body against his when you hugged.
Dane nodded, remembering all those things too.
Watching as Liko’s hand closed around his erection.
And then Dane had it. All he ever needed was one little moment, and then it was a matter of chasing it down.
This moment was Liko’s hand closing into a fist. Pinky to index finger and his thumb last, moving in a little circle.
Touching himself with Dane in his head. Remembering. Reliving.
Dane curled tighter around his own hand in his own lap. He had Liko now. He had him.
I have you in hand, Green Man.
Diane steepled fingers over her mouth and nose, blue eyes shining with excitement. God he’s gorgeous.
Liko’s eyes opened. “I see you over there.”
Dane felt the blood in his body rise up, coursing fast and furious along his limbs, whirlpooling in his chest, hardening in his lap, and setting his face on fire. His smile broke through, tongue running along the edges of his teeth because he was fucking blushing here.
Liko laughed softly. “If you’re gonna do that, then do it with me.”
Dane got up and moved close, sitting on his heels, pressing his kneecaps to Liko’s.
Putting his blushing grin against the bearded smile.
Close enough to kiss. But not yet. Time for that later.
This was now. This little moment right here.
Kneeling close and touching only themselves.
Remembering what was forgotten. Imagining all that was yet to come.
Liko’s forehead touched Dane’s brow. “Don’t stop thinking about me.”
“I never did.”
“Think about me. I need it. I need to be remembered. It keeps me alive.”
“We resolved to live.”
“We did.”
“I never forgot,” Dane said. “You’ve been in my head and heart for over a year, Liko Greenman. Now I have you in hand. You’re right in my hands and I’ll never forget…”