Never Enough

very well.”
“I know. Any news from home?” He meant Miami.
“Pop is done with rehab. Mom is still bitching at him about smoking, as is his doctor. They’re walking every morning – Mom and Pop – and they’re going fishing a couple of times a week. She says at least that keeps him out of the social club where all he does is sit around and drink beer and smoke. Out on the boat he mostly sits around and drinks beer, but because she’s there he
doesn’t smoke.” Andy sighed.
Victor sat beside him and put a hand on his thigh. “He is almost eighty.”
His voice was quiet.
“He’s had a good life, I know.” Andy turned onto his side and curled around Victor, wrapping one arm around his waist. He spoke into his husband’s hip. “Mom says she thinks he’s trying to go fast. Not like his dad.”
Andy’s grandfather had died a long horrible death of emphysema and dementia. “She says she won’t be surprised if he has some kind of accident within the next couple of years.”
“Accident, huh.” Victor had his hand in Andy’s hair now. “I’m sorry, honey.” They didn’t say anything else for a while.
That night they finished up their duties at a screening – complete with the two dance numbers that had become a fixture on the tour, ‘Por Una Cabeza’ and ‘La Cumparsita’ – with a short after-party. Then they went on to a milonga. Victor could tell Andy’s heart wasn’t really in dancing that night, which was sufficiently unusual that he didn’t want to force it. “I’ve got an idea,” he said after a while. They were on the dance floor, Andy leading. He made an inquiring sound. Victor spoke softly against his face. “Let’s go to a karaoke bar. You can scream a little.” Andy half-laughed, then nodded.
Within thirty minutes they’d gotten a recommendation and their driver-slash-interpreter had brought them to the bar, where a late-night crowd of Japanese, mostly men, very refreshingly had no idea who they were. They both had to rely on their interpreter to find tracks they wanted to sing.
“You’re kidding,” Andy said. “They actually have ‘Paint it Black’? I am so totally doing that.” Most of the people singing really shouldn’t have been. A few of them were good enough to sing professionally, and possibly did.
Victor went up to sing ‘Sway’ and half a dozen people tried to buy him drinks. Ten minutes later Andy got his chance. Victor stood close to the performance dais – not big enough to be called a stage, and definitely not big enough to dance on – and watched the room while he took a phone video of Andy. Yeah, you did need to scream, he thought. Not that his husband was really screaming. It was closer to a growl. They might need to stay a while.
Two hours and three more songs later, Andy was ready to go. He looked pale and exhausted. Victor thought they ought to try and go straight to sleep.
“We can always make our Tokyo episode in the morning.” Except they weren’t staying two nights, so they had to travel. They were going on to
Kyoto, and then to Seoul, with no extra days in between.
“Eh,” Andy said. “We can sleep on the train.” His normally-supple baritone was hoarse.
“Then let’s try something completely different.” Andy’s eyebrows went up. Victor didn’t say anything else till they were at the hotel, washed up, and ready for bed. He set up the camera. Andy sat naked on the end of the bed and watched. When Victor turned around he saw the still-inquiring expression and said, “Let’s show the other part. The even more important part.” All of their episodes so far had been about the fun and fury and joy of sex. This time he meant the comfort. Andy got it. He nodded, and scooted back on the bed.
There was a lot of kissing. They both loved kissing. It was always part of foreplay, in these episodes. Tonight it was the main event. After a while, Victor sat up against the headboard and pulled Andy close to his chest, back to front. One arm around his ribs and the other hand working to give Andy relief. Still kissing, murmuring words of love. It didn’t take long. Then Andy slid down to get his mouth on Victor. That didn’t take long either. He stayed there, arms wrapped around Victor’s hips, for a few silent minutes. Victor kept a hand on his back and didn’t say anything about the overly-controlled breath, or the tears. He knew Andy hated to cry more than almost anyone, except maybe Vicky. He waited until Andy sighed, kissed his thigh, and sat up again with his back to the camera. Then he kissed his husband one more time and got off the bed to shut it down.
They did sleep on the train. The next night’s event was smaller, less tiring. They didn’t go out dancing, or for karaoke. Instead they found a quiet sushi bar. Andy still didn’t look rested, but at least he looked calm. “You’re a genius,” he told Victor on their way back to the night’s hotel. “Last night was great.”
“You didn’t get much sleep.”
“Neither did you. We don’t have to leave that early tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Victor noticed the slightly suggestive tone. Getting back to normal, he diagnosed, and hid a smile. “What have you got in mind?” Andy leaned over and whispered in his ear. Victor bit back a laugh. What Andy had in mind was pretty much the polar opposite of the night before. It was a short episode. They got plenty of sleep.
On their way to the airport the next day, Andy showed Victor an email
he’d sent. “I swear, I went to sleep right after this. Just needed to get it out of my head.”
Victor read the email, which was about the photo shoot in the works with their friend Janis’ tour manager and his husband. “So what were the lines?”
Andy pulled up a notes