A Place For Us

The smell of fresh straw enveloped Jean. A beam of rose-gold sun peeked through the cracks in the wood panelling and lit the dust dancing there. It made the bales of straw in the corners look like woven gold. There weren’t any animals to house yet, so it was still fresh, clean, and quiet. There were no passing cars, or sirens, only a few birds somewhere in the distance.

Jean rolled over and saw that Lee was asleep. He looked so beautiful. He was laying on his side with his head on his hands. The straw cushioned his hip, waist, chest, and shoulders, as if it were a cloud bed for a cherub. His black hair fell straight over his forehead, cheeks, and down past his shoulders. With every breath his chest lifted and the sun gleamed on his shoulders and collarbone. The straw bedding would never look as soft and comfortable as it did in that moment, when it cradled Lee as though he were ceramic. In the summer heat they hadn’t needed a blanket for the night, or shirts for that matter. It wouldn’t even be considered roughing it out, since they’d laid it so thickly.

Jean rolled onto his stomach, folded his arms and rested his head there. He stared at Lee’s face like it might be the last thing he would see. The gentle curve of his forehead to the line of his nose. His skin glowed gold, the mole on his jaw standing stark. Jean suddenly understood what inspired all those old oil paintings of people laying back, draped with their bedsheets to cover them while still revealing their curves. Lee looked more beautiful than all of them.

Lee shifted and some of his hair fell over his face. Jean reached out to brush it back but hesitated before touching him. The slightest touch would taint the image. Maybe that was why galleries didn’t let you touch the art, so people didn’t wake them. His hand hovered close enough to feel the hairs on his forehead. It was soft as dust and warm as the sun. The world had never felt so pleasant: the deep brown wood that surrounded them, the summer’s light dripping into their world, and the golden straw that held them. The barn and Lee were both perfect, he didn’t want to ruin it. If he woke up, they would have to leave the barn.

It wasn’t that there was anything wrong outside the barn. He was sure the morning sun was just starting to slip into the kitchen where they would make breakfast. Lee would probably make poached eggs to celebrate them finishing the barn. It wasn’t as if there would be anything unpleasant about sitting and drinking coffee, and talking about their day. It was what Jean wanted to do for the rest of his life, and that was going to start now. Now that the barn was done it was becoming real, rather than just a fantasy that Lee was pretending to go along with. Now it was real. Now the work was going to start.

But Jean didn’t want the work to start right that very second. He wanted to spend another few minutes staring at Lee. The face of the man he was going to grow old with. His fingers hovered a breath away from contact. He wanted to pull back now, but the hair in Lee’s face was just as likely to annoy him into waking. Jean had to decide if he would run the risk of waking Lee, or leave him to be annoyed by the strand of hair, just so he could watch him sleep a few more minutes.

Jean pushed the hair back from Lee’s face.

Lee sighed, and squinted from one eye, then closed it again. He murmured, ‘good morning,’ and nuzzled deeper into the straw. He’d woken, he wouldn’t lie down for long.

‘Good morning.’ Jean brushed Lee’s hair back more confidently now that he was awake. His hair was like silk between his fingers.

Lee took Jean’s hand by the wrist and pressed his palm against his cheek. His skin was smooth and the curve of his face fit perfectly. Jean felt as if he had been dragged into the painting. This world was too perfect to be real.

‘What’re we meant to do today?’ Lee’s voice was as quiet as a whisper. A sound any louder would shatter the scene. The glass between the art and the world would crack, and the painting would be real again.

‘Stay in bed. Maybe forever.’

Lee laughed, although it was more of a sigh. ‘We can’t.’

‘Why not?’

Lee rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. Jean moved over, brushed off straw that had stuck to his skin, and put his head on Lee’s chest. The painting was gone, and they were real again. The beating of Lee’s heart in his ear grounded him in reality.

Jean could feel the rumble of his chest when he said, ‘We need to go look at the cows. We should try to get them today or tomorrow.’

Jean nodded, ‘Sure, cows. Eventually.’

‘We need to get up.’

Jean nodded and put his arm around Lee’s waist. ‘Yeah, yeah, we probably should.’

‘Uh huh.’ Lee’s chest fell with a heavy sigh. He shifted to push himself up and Jean pushed him back down.

‘We’ll get up later.’

‘We need to get up now.’ Lee patted his arm and moved to sit up again. Jean pushed him, but this time Lee sat all the way up. Jean collapsed back into the straw, and Lee hovered over him, the sun glowing like a halo around his head. ‘We built this whole barn; now we need to fill it with cows.

Bells chimed up the road, catching Lee’s attention away. Their sweet summer morning was stolen, and Lee went to go see what was up. Jean sighed and stared at the roof of the barn for a minute before getting up. He grabbed their shirts, since Lee had forgotten his, and closed the red door of the barn on his way out. He pulled his own shirt on, and chased Lee through the pasture, throwing his shirt to him when they were close enough. As he pulled it on, Jean looked up the road to see a bride and groom pushing an oversized white gown into the car.

‘When we get married,’ Lee said, ‘We should get a nicer car than that.’

Jean didn’t know enough about cars to know what a nicer car would be. ‘Yeah, that sounds good.’