I have my blankets on (and nothing else), and like Ishmael, I feel warm on this cold night. But that doesn’t cancel out the aching emptiness that never seems to leave me anymore. I have stacked up three or four pillows so I’m kind of sitting up. Thinking maybe it’s time to reread Moby Dick, because…why not? After a few chapters, sleep is lapping up over my consciousness like waves on a, particularly, peaceful shore. The blankets had slipped down toward my waist, I didn’t notice when.But now something is different. I am no longer leaning—half sitting, half reclining—against my pillows. I feel the firm, warm contact of skin-on-skin. I am leaning back against a familiar chest. A man’s chest. Ben’s chest. I can’t see him of course, but I know these sensations well. I feel his thick, strong, slightly hairy arms wrap around me, embracing me from behind in a delicious bear hug. Instinctively, I relax and melt into Ben’s arms. I am safe and comfortable—for the first time in almost a year. I. Sandy snuggled close to him. "That was incredible. Did you see? You shot five feet, nine inches! That has to be a record." Sandy pointed at the bedroom wall. That's when I noticed the tape measure tacked up there.Tape measure? I rolled away from the door, my back against the wall. What the fuck? Is she like preparing for the Sexual Olympics or something?"The swelling will go down by morning, David. Let me get some ice."I heard this and ran for my room, just shutting the door as I heard Sandy walk out. I sat down on the edge of my bed and waited as I heard her rummaging through the kitchen and her walk back. As she passed my door, she slowed and stopped. I could see her shadow underneath the door in the carpet. Was she listening? Was she going to come in? I reached for my blankets and pulled them back, ready to dive.Then, Sandy walked away and I heard David's door click shut. I thought about what I'd seen for a minute longer, then shook my head. They're fucking nuts! Too freaked out to.
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