Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Wednesday morning, Wyl woke and gazed at his sleeping husband.
The sight brought a fullness of love to his chest and a stirring in his groin.
They were born five years and two days apart.
As this was their first birthday as a couple and they were in San Francisco, the surprise factor was more challenging.
Rod was hospitalized early on his birthday, so the celebration was put on hold.
While Rod fought for his life, Wyl hadn’t thought about his birthday at all.
Rod stretched. His sleep-laden, deep voice croaked out a “Morning.”
“Good morning, old man.” Wyl reached over to stroke Rod’s cheek. Rod turned his face into Wyl’s hand and moaned.
“C’mere,” Rod whispered, reaching behind Wyl’s head to pull him forward. “I love being in bed with my sexy Marine.”
“Happy late birthday, cowboy,” Wyl said. “On your actual birthday, you decided to go into Intensive Care. I thought we might never get to celebrate, but here we are.”
“I love you,” Rod said softly. “You can’t imagine how much I love you because words can’t describe it.”
“I think you describe it without the words.” Wyl strengthened his hug. “Let’s shower and get the late-birthday man cleaned up.”
“I am getting hungry,” Rod said. “What are you making for breakfast?”
“Me? Make breakfast?” Wyl chuckled.
“You make a good breakfast. And surely you don’t want me to work on my late birthday.” Rod nudged him in the ribs.
Wyl looked into Rod’s hazel eyes. “Of course not, cowboy. I know how you old people like to be waited on.”
Rod pushed Wyl out of bed and climbed out after him. “I’ll show you old.” He chased Wyl into the shower.
They huddled together as the warm water rained down. Wyl drew Rod into a wet embrace and nuzzled his ear. “I love you so much, it hurts.”
“Ditto,” Rod whispered.
They slowly washed each other, stepped out, and dried each other with fluffy towels before donning thick terry robes and strolling into the kitchen.
Wyl halted as they reached the kitchen. “No…no…you sit down over there.” He motioned toward the table. “Senior citizens get waited on.” He winked and planted a quick kiss on Rod’s cheek.
“Not a chance,” Rod said. “You young people don’t know your way around a kitchen, and I don’t want to clean up the big mess you’ll make.”
Wyl laughed and snaked his arms around Rod’s waist. “Okay…you win. We’ll make breakfast together.”
Wyl made the coffee and toast while Rod handled the bacon and eggs.
“You didn’t know I liked chicken, did you?” Rod turned off the burner, then divided the eggs and bacon into two plates.
“What does your taste for domestic fowl have to do with anything?” Wyl added toast to the plates.
“In the gay world, a chicken is a much younger man.”
Wyl groaned, then moved his hands to Rod’s ribs, wiggling his fingers and tickling Rod mercilessly.
Rod jerked and wriggled, giggling out loud and begging for mercy. “Stop!” he shouted between gasps of laughter.
They sat down to breakfast, and Wyl reached under the table. “Hey…someone left a box in this chair. You know anything about this?” Wyl asked, handing Rod a nicely wrapped gift box.
“No. I didn’t leave it there.” Rod winked at Wyl. “Do you know anything about it?”
Wyl grinned. “I suppose it’s your birthday present.”
Rod cocked an eyebrow. “You suppose?”
Wyl waved his fingers at Rod. “Okay. It’s definitely your birthday present.”
“For me?” he said mockingly. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Well, okay…” Wyl took the gift back.
“Uh-uh…no, you don’t.” Rod grabbed the box, untied the ribbon, and lifted it off the top. Inside, he found a small black-lacquer music box shaped like a grand piano. He took it out and glanced at Wyl.
“Open the piano lid,” Wyl smiled.
Rod opened the lid, and the strains of Stravinsky’s Dance of the Firebird filled the air.
Rod’s eyes filled. “Oh, babe, music from The Firebird…our first orchestra concert together.”
“It took creative searching to find, but I knew it would mean something to you,” Wyl said.
Rod stood, set the music box on the table, and embraced Wyl from behind. “It means more than you realize. At dinner that night, you asked me to be your friend, remember? You don’t know how good that made me feel.”
Wyl wrapped his arms around Rod’s and leaned against him. “I guess that counts as our first date, although I didn’t realize it then.”
Rod squeezed Wyl, then let go. “I’m glad you finally figured it out.” He sat back down, elbow on the table, chin in his palm, listening to the music.
“There’s more to your birthday present,” Wyl said. “The pool table at the ranch house is gone. In its place is a beautiful new Steinway 7’ grand piano. I know you once played, and figured you would enjoy playing again, for me.”
Rod struggled to push his chair back, and Wyl moved aside so he could stand.
He turned to Wyl, trying to say something, but the words would not come.
Rod grabbed him and hugged him until he could compose himself.
“Wyl,” Rod said hoarsely, “you don’t know how much I want to play again.
I gave it up when Patrick and I got together and miss it.
I promise I’m better at the piano than the guitar. ”
They embraced and rocked each other, savoring the love they shared.