I see a framed award and a rolled up commendation next to matchbooks from The Beverly Hills Hotel. I finish my Scotch and put the glass on the bedside table. Mine for years. I lift back the covers and lie beside her. Her breath strong as always, I know its rhythms.
Bedroom – Bette
This could be a dream but I don’t think so. In my half sleep my irritation towards her barely registers. I knew she would find me tonight if she needed me to sleep. I’m done with asking. Another thought pushes up through. When she needs only me she asks. At least we’ve gotten there.
Her breath against my shoulder I feel her lay her head against my back. As the dog beyond the garden wall barks Tina’s arm comes around my waist. I have one eye open. I scan the shadows and light in my garden outside my window. All normal. I drift out past the trees and into the wind to sense around my house. There’s no one out there. I thread my fingers through her hand and squeeze it tightly, then I let go. Soon, I fall back to sleep.
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