“I don’t think they’d really say much,” I said quietly. “I just don’t want to—”
“What?” Will questioned. “Rock the boat? Upset the masses? Fuck that, little brother. You can’t help who you like. If you like this guy, you—”
“Please, Will. Just… be quiet. I don’t even know if I do. He’s just… he’s nice. He’s totally different than I am and… I don’t know. I don’t know if anyone would understand him, that’s all.”
“Why not?” Clearly puzzled, Will leaned back into the chair. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing’s wrong with him. He’s just… kind of… effeminate, I guess.”
“Like that Birdcage movie we saw?”
“Jesus, Will,” I groaned.
“What? Or like that Jack on Will and Grace?”
This time I did stand, grabbing my keys from the counter. “Will you stop? You see two gay people on TV and automatically—”
“Well, maybe you ought to just bring him by. Let us judge for ourselves. Janine’s never met anyone you’ve ever dated. She thinks I’m lying about you being gay. Lord knows why I’d make that up, but she thinks I’m full of shit. So, maybe you’ll bring him around. Come to dinner or something. Janine can make that casserole thing she makes. That… tuna whatever.”
“Don’t make it sound so appealing,” I told him. “That tuna whatever.”
“It’s the only thing she knows how to make, for Christ’s sake. Have fun on your date, Romeo.” I flipped him off right as he yelled down the hall, “Wear those dark blue jeans you wore to Mom’s birthday. Janine says they make your ass look good!”
I did wear the dark jeans that Will had suggested, along with a light gray henley that was probably too fitted, but it was too late now, as Ben sat across from me in the small booth, chattering away like it wasn’t the most uncomfortable moment of my life. It was too hot—the whole outfit—and I was kicking myself for not choosing shorts or at least something short-sleeved. The sleeves were pushed up to the elbow, but who was I kidding? I’d be sweating in thirty minutes and nothing said date-over like uneasy perspiration.
I was still obsessed with the fact that this could be a date. I mean, was it? Ben didn’t seem to care, going on about the paint color he’d chosen for the bedroom and how it mimicked the beach. It was the “color of the wind,” whatever the fuck that had meant. But, he looked so fucking cute wearing a skin-tight white V-neck t-shirt and the tiniest of blue shorts (God, did that man own any shorts less than six inches above his knee?) that I honestly didn’t care what color the paint was—I was sure it’d look great on the walls in his bedroom. Against his bedframe…
“And then after I got home from the paint store, I almost didn’t make it into the shower on time because I got caught up in a JLo marathon and I am frightened to admit, but I will because you are my friend and friends admit when they are so very wrong, so… Maid in Manhattan came on and it is my ultimate guilty pleasure,” Ben said, quickly staring down at the menu. “Go ahead. Feel free to judge me now.”
When he looked back up, I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know that one.”
“Oh my God. Really? So, it’s basically like the perfect romantic comedy. Like one of those where the underdog ends up winning in the end, you know? Like an ‘oh, I’m worthless, but wait, I find worth at the end’ or whatever kind of things… you know what I mean? I feel like that all the time… ugh. Anyway, okay, so, JLo is this maid, right? And she works at this fancy hotel. Then, like, Ralph Fiennes shows up and comes and stays there. He’s like running for the Senate or whatever. Anyway, she sees him and thinks that he’s hot or whatever, but he’s like waaay out of her league because, you know, maid, right? Anyway, there’s this…” Ben stopped immediately and pursed his lips. “You want me to stop talking now, right?”
I stared at him for at least thirty seconds before shaking my head. “Um… no. No, it’s fine.”
“You want to end our friendship right now, don’t you? You’re kind of thinking… huh, I’m not sure why I came here tonight, aren’t you?”
“No,” I replied, clearing my throat. “It’s really okay.”
“So,” Ben asked, putting the menu down, “what kind of movies do you like?”
“I, uh, well, my dad and brother used to pick out most of the movies when I was a kid because I was the youngest, so I never got much of a choice—”
“Oh, that’s so sad,” Ben said with a pout.
“Now I basically just watch whatever’s on HBO, I guess.”
“Oh… now that’s even sadder. I mean, what if there’s a Girls marathon on?”
I shrugged. “That’s alright. It’s an okay show.”
“Really?” Ben asked. “I fucking hate that show.”
“Oh, um, I watched that one show… um, The Night Of? You know, with John Turturro? I know I’m a little behind, but I just got around to watching it.”
“Oh my God. Weren’t you like completely on edge the whole time? It was like the moment where that kid picks her up in that taxi, you just knew—”
I smiled at him just as our server came to the table. I let Ben order first, his hands animatedly flying while he ordered half of the menu. When it was my turn, I closed my menu and said, “I’ll have a small wonton soup, an order of fried tofu and the hurricane rolls, please.”
When she walked away, Ben continued our conversation as if she had never stepped foot in front of us at all.
“So, she gets in that taxi and I just knew. I mean, stranger-danger, right? Get out of the fucking car, lady. He should have tossed her out on her crazy ass. Oh no, though. He was thinking with his dick, so of course he drives her around. Okay, fine. Then she what… gives him drugs? Oh, sure. I’ve never met this girl… of course I’ll take your random angel dust. Seems legit. I mean, you know, I feel like everyone watching knew something tragic was about to happen, am I right?”
I took a sip of water and watched as Ben’s mouth moved, recapping almost the entire show that I’d already watched. Yet, somehow, his take on it amused me to no end. I smiled constantly. I couldn’t remember smiling that much in fucking years.
“Don’t get me started on that scene where they show him scratching his fucking foot with that tool and then wrapping it in the Vaseline and the Saran Wrap.” Ben grabbed his stomach and feigned a lurching motion. “Jesus Christ. I almost threw up again just now thinking about it. I mean, for fuck’s sake, HBO. I was actually eating when I was watching that the first time. Zach laughed at me for twenty minutes.”
His voice softened at the mention of Zach’s name, but I couldn’t help it… I had to ask.
“Hey, how’d that go the other night? Your visit with him?”
Ben shook his head. “It’s over. I broke up with him. That night, actually. I don’t know… it just… everything fell apart. He was trying to make things better and I can’t blame him for that. He’s a really great guy. I just don’t know that he’s my guy, you know? He liked me and I know he respected me, but I felt like he was constantly trying to change little things about me. It kind of took me walking away to notice. It’s like, you know that guilty pleasure thing I told you about before? Well, I have a lot of those. I love television and movies. I mean, I just do. And I like a lot of bad television and movies. If you’re my friend, you’ll find that out quickly about me. I mean, one of my favorite movies of all time is Overboard with Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn.” Ben cocked an eyebrow at me. “Ever seen it?”
I nodded. “Uh huh.”
“I mean, now watching it kind of makes me uncomfortable with the whole kidnapping angle or whatever, but you get it. Okay. So, I’m not the guy who puts Schindler’s List in his top ten of all-time greats, even though it’s a great movie. No one is saying that it isn’t. It’s just that when I have a day off and I’m sitting around with my popcorn and my Diet Coke, I am going to choose a marathon of Project Runway. That’s what I like. Now, Zach acted like that was fine in the beginning, but what he said he was fi
ne with, he really wasn’t. He started to make little comments here and there. ‘This again?’ or ‘I can’t believe you watch this stuff.’ Okay, that’s alright every once in a while, but it gets old. It’s like he’s taking everything away from me that I love and calling it stupid, you know? And I don’t want to feel stupid. And I’m not… I’m not stupid.”
“I know you’re not,” I replied.
“Jesus, I sound like I’m trying to convince you. I guess if I have to convince you, it’s pretty pathetic.”
“You like what you like. Guess what? Remember when I told you that I like to read mysteries? That’s pretty much a lie. I read almost all romances. I like them. That’s what I like, so fuck everyone else,” I told him with a smile. “The only mysteries I read are mystery-romances.”
Ben smiled at that. “Ahhh… girl from Omaha finds box of diamonds while on cruise ship. Detective hired to find her when she flees the scene,” he said softly.
I worried my bottom lip between my teeth. “Not exactly,” I admitted. “More like boy from Omaha finds box of diamonds.”
Ben leaned in toward the middle of the table and lowered his voice an octave. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“I’m gay, Ben.”
“Jesus, Mary, and motherfucking Joseph,” he whispered before leaning back. “Why didn’t you… why didn’t you just tell me?”
“I’m telling you now.”
“I mean, I guess you’re not obligated to tell me, but I just figured… I mean, I told you in the first five minutes… I mean, not that you wouldn’t have figured it out anyway, but Jesus… oh my God, this is just—”
“You gonna be alright?” I asked.
Ben ran his hand through his blonde hair. “Fuck, I mean, yes, but this is just a lot to think about.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that my gaydar has always been pretty good, I thought, and I was really off. I mean, my Oma said that you probably were and then Zach said that you probably were, but I—”
“Your Oma and Zach?” I asked.
Ben blew out a long breath and fanned his reddened face. “I mean, okay, I told my Oma that you were going to help me fix my house up. She asked if you knew that I was gay and I said yes. She said that by default, you were probably gay because you wouldn’t have offered to help if you weren’t. Then… with Zach, he just said that you looked a little jealous or something when you saw him or whatever.”
“Jealous? I wasn’t—”
Ben lifted his shirt from his chest to fan some air into it. “No, no, of course you weren’t. I don’t know why he would say that. I don’t know why any of this is happening. Oh my God, where is that girl with the motherfucking food? Jesus, is it hot in here?”
Seven.
Ben
The truck idled outside of my driveway as I clambered for something to say.
Anything. Literally anything.
I’d stared out of the window for half of the meal and listened to Jesse talk about some new perennials he’d purchased the day before and how the Florida sun could be brutal if you didn’t plant them in just the right spot and blah-fucking-blah-fucking-blah… shut up!
God, I liked him. Of course I fucking liked him, but right now I just needed to go home and sit on the information he’d given me. What I wanted to do was invite him in and sit on his lap, but that was another conversation for another day, so I just grabbed the handle and said, “Goodnight, Jesse.”
“Wait… stop, Ben.”
I closed the cracked door and turned toward the driver’s seat. “What?”
“You haven’t talked. This has been the hardest hour of my life. I’m shit with talking and you’re great at it. I mean… I tell you that I’m gay and you just… I mean, it was like coming out to my parents all over again. I didn’t expect to be rejected. Not by you.”
“Oh, God, Jess,” I said softly. “That wasn’t what this was. I wasn’t rejecting you. I was just shocked, I guess. I didn’t handle it well. It was stupid. Just let me get my shit together.” I shook out my hands and blew out a breath. “There. Perfect. Tell me again.”
“What?”
“Go on. Tell me that you’re gay again.”
Jesse laughed quietly, staring out of the windshield. “This is dumb.”
“No it’s not. Just do it. I promise I’ll react differently. Just… go.”
He turned toward me with a shy smile. “Fine. Ben, I’m gay.”
I lifted my hands to my mouth. “Holy fucking shit!” I screamed. “I can’t believe you just… I mean… I… what am I—”
He laughed again. “Get out.”
“Fine,” I replied, turning the handle again and stepping out onto the drive. “But I still need you to replace that toilet. Actually, I need you to look at the one I bought, ‘cause I’m not sure it’ll even fit. I guess I should have checked with you before I got it, but it was so cute and had one of those funny bidet things, you know? Like when you flush, it totally launches a fountain of water up your—” I gestured wildly, even patting my own ass, to make sure he understood exactly what I meant. “So… anyway, you free tomorrow night?”
Jesse stared at me for a moment. “I don’t work on Sundays.”
I fiddled with the hem of my shorts and gave him a small smile. “So, can I bribe you to help with some cheap pizza? I have to visit my Oma in the morning, but maybe you can come by in the afternoon. I mean, if you want.”
Jesse turned to the windshield again. “Ooh, cheap pizza. You sure do know how to woo a boy. Text me when you get home.”
Oma Anna pushed her eggs around on her plate before looking up at me with a scowl.
“Why do they make us eat these eggs every day?” she asked, her wavering voice so cute I could hardly stand it. “I like biscuits and gravy. You know, when I was in the Army, we ate biscuits and gravy… that was a real meal.”
I stared at her for a long moment. “Oma, you were never in the Army.”
“A-ha!” she returned, pointing her fork at me. “I wanted to see if you were paying attention. But look, Benji, these eggs have, I don’t know… what is that? Water? If they look watery, it’s not right, is it?”
I looked down at my own watery eggs. “Um, should I get us some fruit? I think there was some watermelon up there.”
“That watermelon has been there since Thursday. I think they just keep rewrapping the same pieces. I wouldn’t risk it,” she claimed. “How is the new house going?”
“It’s a money pit,” I groaned. “The wiring is crap and the grout on the floor tiles is loose and the more I live there, the more things I find wrong with it. But, I did start painting my bedroom last night from this disgusting shade of pink to this really nice shade. I don’t know… it’s sort of a wind color, you know?”
Oma stared at me blankly. “What the hell is a wind color?”
She didn’t get me… like, at all. Come to think of it, Jesse had given me the same blank stare the night before when I’d described the color to him. “It’s like a light blue, you know?”
“Then why didn’t you just say light blue?” she asked. “Oh, Benji.” She was quiet for a moment before asking, “Did your electrician friend help you?”
“No, Oma,” I answered, “but we did go out.”
“Oh?” Her eyebrows lifted as she turned her attention to me. “Do tell.”
“It was nothing. I mean, it was just dinner. But… we did have sushi.”
She smiled sweetly and clapped her hands together. “I told you, Benji. You can’t judge a book by its cover. And was it a nice date?”
I pierced a small piece of egg and placed it in my mouth before quickly spitting it into my napkin. “Jesus, Oma. Are they trying to poison you?”
“I told you. Breakfast is the worst. I’ve learned to only eat things that come in prepackaged containers. Things with the words Dannon or Dole on ‘em. Otherwise, you take a risk. Even the bananas are iffy and we live in Florida. Speaking of poison though, one of the nigh
t nurses gave me a cone shell she found on the beach.” She smiled widely, her dentures on full display. “It was one of those poisonous ones, so she was lucky it wasn’t live when she picked it up. Real pretty too. White as snow with little brown polka dots. Nancy told me it was like a sister-cone of one like it in Australia and the venom they extract from that particular one is a thousand times stronger than morphine.” She nodded her head vigorously. “Can you believe that? And… they’ve been using it to cure Parkinson’s… and even Alzheimer’s, she said.”
“Your nurse’s name is Nancy?” I asked, clasping my hand over hers on the table.
She pulled it away quickly, stabbing at the eggs with her fork. “I didn’t say that, Bridgette. Her name is Cheryl.”
“Okay.” I touched her hand again. “You’re right. Sorry. I probably just misheard you. That was really nice of Cheryl to bring you that shell. Can I see it when we get back to your room?”
Oma stood up quickly, glancing around the large cafeteria before locating the hallway heading toward her room. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’m just really tired. Can you just go?”
“Oma, I’m sorry, okay?” I touched her shoulder gently. “I didn’t mean to say anything to upset you. I just really want to see the shell.”
“Not today, I don’t think,” she said softly, shuffling toward the hallway. “Maybe tomorrow. I… I’m just tired.”
Jesse scratched his beard for the twentieth time at least, bending over to study the toilet once again.
“Jesus,” he mumbled. “Whoever put this in really didn’t want it to fucking come out. These nuts are so damn tight—”
“You know this is the moment where I tell a that’s-what-he-said joke, right?”
He wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm, his messy brown hair damp and falling into one dark eye. “I’m sure it is. Listen; can you do me a favor? You got something to hold my hair back with? A bandanna or something? Usually I have something in the truck, but I forgot it.”
Benji and the Wireman Page 5
