Lay me down in sheets of linen


Sheets! I don’t know if other people who deal with insomnia are like me, but I’m choosy about my sheets. I can forgive an imperfectly firm mattress, but there’s nothing like freshly laundered and high thread count sheets to make me feel cossetted.

Bed linens hold memories. Several sets of pillowcases, though discolored by age and no longer used, remain among my linens because they were embroidered for me by my mother as far back as when I was a ‘tween and then when I left home for college. She bought good sheets, too, and I can remember the smell and feel of them when they were fresh from the clothesline, or the times when I was a sick little kid and she’d change my bedding while I was in the bathtub.

Linens are among the first gifts we receive or items we purchase when we set up housekeeping in a new place or enter a new relationship. The memories connected to our sheets sometimes lead us to discard them after a breakup–shedding the old in a literal sense.

The emotional resonance of sheets as a metaphor is explored by Steven Reigns in his short story “Between These Sheets.” One night before going to bed, the narrator tells his boyfriend Timothy that he bought new sheets. Timothy’s response troubles him and leaves him contemplative about the men from his past.

I only wanted to change the look of my bed, not its history. There was a time, newly out at sixteen, that I longed for storybook romance. Thought the fewer I’d been with, the stronger the love I deserved. The less men I touched, the deeper I’d be touched. It was as if kisses, love or sex were limited quantities and I shouldn’t use them up on men during meaningless encounters.

In my late thirties now, I no longer think that way. I like myself more than I have in the past. Timothy is the best relationship so far. Those men I shared my sheets with for a night, weeks, months, or just an hour, I’m thankful for. These are the men who slowly helped me shape and build my self, not just the teaching of sexual skills on queen size fabric. Through them I learned more about communication and preference….

Timothy’s breathing behind me paces as he drifts to sleep. There’s nothing that I could share with him I haven’t shared with others, except for the present. I can’t change my past and I know promises of the future don’t mean much. I want the present to be gift enough for him….

“Hey babe?” I ask. He emits the quick hmm of the sleepy. “Did it make you uncomfortable we were sleeping on sheets I used with others?”

Reigns has crafted a dreamy bedtime story for Foolish Hearts: New Gay Fiction, which goes on sale January 14, 2014.

Excerpt reprinted with permission from Cleis Press. All rights reserved.

7 thoughts on “Lay me down in sheets of linen”

  1. I’ve never thought to ask if Chris has shared the sheets we sleep in with anyone else. It doesn’t bother me.

    I do agree with you on a high thread count – and getting into freshly laundered sheets, especially after a soak in the bath, is wonderful. I think bed linen is worth spending money on.

  2. “…the teaching of sexual skills on queen size fabric.” Unlike sheets I would never change this turn of phrase.

    Coincidentally, I changed my own sheets today.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *