Baby, It’s Cold Inside, Part II
by Charlie Geer
Last week we noted that like any other opiate the Andalusian brasero can occasionally put a relationship to the test. We should also note that it is in fact possible for a couple to share the brasero, in the way that a pair of opium enthusiasts might share a hookah. The problem is that on those nights when partners find themselves enjoying the pleasures of the brasero together, slow-baking in harmony, the impending journey from the brasero to the conjugal bed, a.k.a. the “Bed Run,” will eventually weigh heavily. Because the bed is as frigid as the air, and will remain so until one partner dives in and, at the expense of his or her own warmth, warms it up, the question as to who will make the first run can be a serious one.
Executing a Bed Run means ripping oneself away from the brasero; scurrying briskly and inelegantly over cold linoleum floors; diving into icy sheets and, once there, lending said icy sheets what little body heat the individual has left. Sticking with our narcotic analogy, and asking forgiveness in advance for a pun, the Bed Run might be seen as an exercise in cold-turkey therapy. En route the skin will certainly take the appearance that may have first given rise to the expression—hairs standing on end, popping at the follicles, the Bed Runner’s skin will resemble the skin of a cold, plucked turkey.
In most cases the Bed Run only becomes an issue over time. During the early, infatuation stage of a relationship, each party is perhaps eager to please and sacrifice for the other—no mountain too high, etc.—and offering to make the Bed Run from the brasero to the conjugal bed is an ideal way to express as much, like walking the dog, folding the laundry, or scrubbing the toilet. But like walking the dog, folding the laundry, or scrubbing the toilet, making the Bed Run is precisely the kind of sacrifice that may eventually engender resentment à la It’s not my turn to make the Bed Run, and/or engender a sour sort of nostalgia à la Remember when he/she used to like to make the Bed Run?
In extreme, not very healthy cases, one partner may end up resorting to trickery when it comes time to make a Bed Run. The popular “Loo Duck” comes to mind. The Loo Duck involves standing up from the brasero and heading toward the bedroom as if making a Bed Run, then covertly ducking into the bathroom at the last moment instead. If the move is played right, the seated party, feeling a little guilty but pleased to have the Bed Run taken care of, will soon rise and make for the bed. By the time he or she realizes that the Loo Ducker is not in the bed but in the loo, it is invariably too late: he or she is stranded in an arctic no-man’s-land, with no choice but to become the default Bed Runner, that is to say, to dive into the frosty sheets and spazz about frenetically in order to warm them. In the interest of salvaging a measure of dignity, the duped party may at this point find it prudent to pretend as though he or she has not been duped at all, but had been planning to make a valiant Bed Run all along.
On balance, the brasero may seem like more trouble than it is worth, at least in a cohabited environment. Be that as it may, few Andalusians would dare go without one. Vale la pena, hombre, vale la pena.
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Charlie Geer is the author of the novel “Outbound: The Curious Secession of Latter-Day Charleston.” His work has appeared in Tin House, The Sun, Bloomsbury Magazine, and The Southern Review.
