Benji and the Wireman

by Charlie Winters

  “I don’t know. I mean, last night, he was talking about going swimming tonight and I could tell he kind of wanted to ask me to come over, but he didn’t.” I shrugged. “So we didn’t make any plans for the next time we’d see each other.”

  “So, put on some tight booty trunks and go over there tonight. Surprise him. Take over some beer or whatever. Romance the fuck outta him.”

  “With beer?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow.

  “Or whatever. What does he drink? Mai Tais? Whatever this guy likes. Take ‘em over and show him your romantic side. And if that doesn’t work, slap his cheek with your dick. That always seems to work for Janine.”

  “Ah. Who ever said romance was dead?”

  Will reached down and scratched his balls over his jeans. “They haven’t met my wife.”

  I grabbed my keys and stood. “I’ve got a call. I’m gonna be late.”

  “Don’t be a pussy,” Will yelled. “Go get your guy.”

  At ten minutes after nine, I stood in front of Ben’s door clasping a brown paper sack full of rum—coconut-flavored and regular—orange juice, pineapple juice, and a small plastic bottle of grenadine. I had no idea whether or not Ben actually liked Mai Tais, but I was taking a chance.

  Now, all I had to do was garner the strength to actually ring the bell. I pressed my finger to the button quickly before pulling back. Shit… maybe I could still run. Maybe I could…

  “Jesse?” Ben cracked the door an inch, only his blue eyes peering through the frame. “Well, Jesus, give me a heart attack, why don’t you?”

  “Sorry,” I fumbled. “It was supposed to be a surprise.” I held up the bag. “I come bearing gifts.”

  He opened the door slowly and peeked inside the bag. “Okay… Parrot Bay… Bacardi… well, alright. You can come in. Fuck, though, my doorbell never rings unexpectedly. And you remember what happened the last time someone rang that bell.” Ben stuck his tongue out. “Drama central. If it was Zach again, I was going to have to call the cops.”

  “That bad?”

  “Nah,” he said, waving his hand. “Now I’m being the drama queen. He’s fine. He just wanted to do boyfriend-y stuff and I didn’t… you know, because I broke up with him. But he didn’t seem to get the memo the next morning, know what I mean?”

  Ben took the bag from me and turned toward the kitchen. I watched his perfect walk as he strode to the counter, pulling the blender out.

  “Wait,” he said, turning back to face me, “are we making something in the blender?”

  I shook my head. “No. Just Mai Tais. You just stir them. Or shake ‘em… or whatever.”

  Ben gave me a flirty wink and a shake of his hips. “I’m really good at shaking.”

  “Yeah,” I said dumbly, swallowing thickly. “I can see that.”

  “Oh, loosen up, Tarzan. I was kidding. Did you bring your suit? I’m going in the pool.”

  I nodded. “Yeah… I’m, uh, wearing it.”

  Ben looked down at my shorts, studying the somewhat baggy knee-length red trunks. “Huh. Those are no fun at all. Oh well. I’ve gotta change. Make us a drink while I do that?”

  I tried to remember all of the instructions Will had given me. One part rum, one part coconut rum, two parts pineapple juice, three parts orange juice. Or was it two parts rum, two parts juice? Shit. I started to pour, my hand possibly a little heavier on the rum than it was supposed to be. At the end, I added a splash of the grenadine and found a spoon in the drawer, stirring the whole thing into a spectacularly bright orange.

  When Ben sidled up to me at the counter wearing nothing but a pair of white trunks that barely grazed the tops of his thighs, I dropped the spoon, causing it to clatter noisily onto the porcelain tile. His long bangs were pinned back messily with one of the bobby pins he’d used on my hair the day before and he was wearing glasses, a pair of black plastic frames a little too large for his delicate face.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, quickly fumbling to pick up the spoon.

  “I took out my contacts,” he said with a sigh. “The chlorine bothers them, but I can’t see much without them, so… you get to see me in full-dork mode.”

  “I like them,” I blurted. “A lot.”

  Oh, God.

  “Yeah? I wear them when I caption sometimes. My eyes get tired if I work too much staring at my screen, you know? These make it a little easier. Less dry or whatever. You ready to get in the pool?” Ben looked down at my rum concoction on the counter. “Oooh, what do we have here?”

  “It’s… I don’t know. It’s supposed to be a Mai Tai, but I may have forgotten the exact measurements.”

  Ben took a sip and winced. “Jesus, Jess. You trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me?”

  “No… I—”

  He laughed playfully and tossed back another sip of the drink as if it was nothing. “I’m kidding. You are tense tonight. Maybe the pool will loosen you up. You need a massage, big guy?”

  I swallowed, the saliva getting caught in my throat. “I’m alright. I mean, unless, I don’t know. It’s, um, up to you.”

  “It’s, um, up to me?” Ben teased, opening the French doors leading to the patio. “Either you want one or you don’t. You’ve been working all day, haven’t you?”

  “So have you,” I returned.

  “Oh, God,” Ben said, plopping into one of the patio chairs. “You’re absolutely right, I have. I thought you’d never ask. Massage away.” He closed his eyes behind those glasses and took a sip of his drink, wiggling his shoulders in invitation.

  I came closer and lowered my drink onto the table next to the chair, placing my cool hands onto Ben’s shoulders carefully. I didn’t move them at first, just staring down at the top of his head, studying the pins in his soft blonde hair before moving my gaze over his pale chest… his semi-erect dick in those suggestive shorts. Ben groaned instinctively, his lips parting a touch, as I finally dug my fingers into his tense muscles.

  “That feels amazing,” he said with a sigh. “Your hands are like magic. I’m going to pay you to be my personal masseuse. You can wake me up every morning by rubbing my feet.”

  I thought about those feet again, taking a quick moment to glance down at them. They were planted on the concrete, his toes curling slightly every time I kneaded into the soft flesh a little too hard. Ben took another few sips of his drink, moaning each time his lips hit the glass.

  “And you are an amazing bartender. Maybe you should just handle my life. Clearly, I haven’t been doing a good enough job on my own for the past thirty-five years. You probably should take over.” His eyes cracked open for a moment before lazily drifting closed again. “Mai Tais are my second favorite drink behind margaritas. How did you know?”

  “I didn’t.” I cleared my throat. “My brother… he, uh, suggested them.”

  Ben’s eyes did open at that. “Your brother suggested you bring me Mai Tais?”

  “I mean, I said that I was thinking about coming over,” I lied, “and he said that I shouldn’t come empty handed. He said that everyone liked Mai Tais, so that’s why I brought this stuff.”

  “Hmm,” he said warily. “Good man, this brother of yours. What’s his name?”

  “Will.”

  “Will, huh? And does this Will know a lot about me?” he asked.

  “No,” I lied again. “I told him that we were friends. That I’d fixed some things in your house or whatever.”

  “Uh huh.” A smile crept over Ben’s lips as he closed his eyes again. “Fixed some things in my house, huh?”

  I kneaded his shoulders a little harder. “What?”

  “Nothing,” he said, smiling even wider. “Did you come over here for more than a late-night swim, Jesse?”

  My hands stopped moving as I pulled back immediately. “No.”

  Ben stood slowly and turned to face me, his chest mere inches from mine. He glanced up, his glasses shifting down his nose, blue eyes boring into mine. “You sure about that, Mr. Solomon?”

&n
bsp; I nodded and forced my eyes away. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  “Okay then.” Ben turned away from me with a smile, tossing his glasses onto the small table before sinking into the blue water. “God, this feels so good. Get in here… friend,” he teased.

  I slowly made my way in and rested my back against the wall, sinking in up to my neck. “It’s nice and cool,” I said softly.

  Ben stood in front of me and took a sip of his drink, a bit of the orange juice slipping from the glass to slide down the front of his chest. He took a lazy finger and ran it over his stomach, gathering all of the syrupy fluid before sucking the finger into his mouth. “Oops,” he mumbled. “Look at me. Such a sticky mess.”

  “Ben,” I scolded, lifting my eyes to meet his gaze.

  “What?” he asked, gazing down with a smile. “You alright? Friend?”

  “Okay. So maybe I came over here to see you. And maybe I’ve been thinking about you a little bit.”

  Ben splashed me in the face. “Ah-ha! I fucking knew it! Why didn’t you just say so? Instead, you’ve been making me nuts or thinking I’ve been going crazy or that it’s one-sided or that maybe you did kind of like me but that you were just playing coy or—”

  I leaned in an inch and pressed my lips to Ben’s pale stomach, wrapping my hands around his back. He immediately stopped talking, leaning over to set his drink onto the concrete ledge. His hands wrapped around the back of my head, gripping my hair tightly as I continued to gently press my mouth over every inch of his bared torso. I heard his voice, barely a whisper, as he almost whimpered my name.

  “Jesse…”

  I lifted to my feet and cradled his face in my hands, taking his lips for the first time, though I’d fantasized about it more than I’d cared to admit. I’d thought about those soft lips in the shower every morning as I’d brought myself off. I’d thought about them on the way to work as I’d sipped a skinny vanilla latte—Ben’s favorite—wondering if his lips would taste that way when we’d kissed for the first time.

  Would it be morning? Would he taste like that coffee, the hint of bitterness mixed with sweet on that tongue?

  Would it be afternoon? Maybe we would have finished a project. Maybe we’d be drinking a bottle of water by the sink. Maybe he’d say something flirtatious and I’d have no choice but to push him against that counter…

  Would it be evening? Would he have just gotten out of the shower? Would he smell like cologne and Listerine? The purple one he always left on the counter next to the green toothbrush in the holder that looked like blades of grass? I’d picked that bottle up a few times when I’d been in there alone… I’d even opened it up once or twice just to see. I almost knew what he’d taste like.

  Ben’s lips tasted sticky like the juice he’d spilled. His tongue was warm as his body nearly melted against mine with an indecent moan… like he’d been waiting his entire life for that kiss.

  He went practically limp, my arms gathering his slight body close, another whimper escaping his throat. His nails clawed at my bare back as if he’d thought I’d escape. Just for a moment… and then he pulled back.

  “Wait,” Ben said breathlessly, his cheeks flushed with need.

  “What?” I gave him another chaste kiss, hoping he’d change his mind. “Please don’t say wait, Ben.”

  “No, no… it’s not you. It’s just that I don’t want to rush, okay? Not with you. And I can see this… oh, God, I can see me falling into bed with you five minutes from now and I just need you to promise me that whatever happens with us tonight, okay, just… whatever happens, you won’t let me do that.”

  I nodded. “Um… alright?”

  He nodded back furiously. “Okay? Because right now, all I want to do is take you to my bedroom and let you pin me up against that new mattress… and we can’t. I can’t do that with you.”

  “Wait… um… why not?” I pulled him close and pressed my lips to his neck as he craned back for my touch.

  “Ugh… Jesse, you’re not listening. Because I like you. I mean, I really like you, Jess, and… oh, God… right there… that’s the spot… yeah, put your hand… oh, fuck. Wait!” He pulled back again and pushed my chest. “What did I just say?”

  “That I was supposed to promise you that we couldn’t sleep together… I think. Right?”

  “Yes. And what were you doing just now?” he asked, tugging a tuft of hair on my chest.

  “Kissing your neck?”

  “And kissing leads to…?”

  “Sleeping together?” I questioned, scratching my beard thoughtfully. “I don’t know, Ben. We’re not in high school. We’re grown-ups. If you want me to fuck you,” I whispered, pulling him close again, “all you have to do is ask.”

  Ben whimpered slightly, but pulled back to face me, a serious expression on his face. “I meant it, actually. I like you. And yeah, I do want you to fuck me.” He leaned in and brushed his achingly hard dick against my thigh. “But I also want to wait just a little bit. Maybe it’ll add to the excitement of our first time.”

  I swallowed thickly, staring at his reddened mouth which was sure to have a beard-burn by morning. “I can wait for you.”

  “Good,” he replied, straddling my thigh to grind against it lazily. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “I don’t doubt you will.”

  Ben sighed. “I hope I haven’t ruined our first kiss. The best kiss I’ve ever had.”

  “Mine too,” I said, nudging his shoulder.

  “Kiss me again?” Ben said breathily, wrapping his arms around my neck and closing his eyes slowly.

  And I did.

  I left at midnight with Ben’s rum-tinged taste still on my tongue, a promise to see each other the following evening.

  Our first real date.

  Nine.

  Ben

  When I went to Indian Villas the following morning, Cheryl stood outside of the reception desk. It was as if she was waiting for me, her hands clasped together, her feet sort of shuffling about nervously. I walked quickly toward her, nearly dropping the banana bread I’d made an hour earlier.

  “What’s going on?”

  Cheryl put a hand out to steady me, but I was breaking into a near-panic, peering over her shoulder down the hallway where Oma’s room was. Surely, they would have called me if anything was wrong… surely, they—

  “Ben, your grandma is fine. She’s just having a tough time this morning. She’s asked that there be no visitors. She had a little episode last night and—”

  “What kind of episode?” I asked, searching Cheryl’s eyes for answers.

  “She was just confused. It happens sometimes, but this one was worse than most. She didn’t know where she was and that was okay because we can usually handle that. But typically, she will call one of us by a name of a loved one… that’s how we know she’s still in there. She remembers your grandpa Carl and she always remembers Nancy. Bridgette and David… and you, of course.” Cheryl let out a sigh. “But when I tried to calm her down—to talk to her about Nancy—she pulled away and told me she didn’t know any Nancy. She just wanted me to leave her alone. I asked her if she wanted me to call you and—”

  “She didn’t remember me,” I said softly.

  “I’m sorry, Ben.” Cheryl clasped my hand. “She’s a little better this morning and I got her to eat a little, but she’s still pretty tired and she asked for some alone time. I hope you know this has nothing to do with you. It’s—”

  “The disease, I know.” I squeezed her hand back. “Okay. Well, um, I’ll call my mom and let her know what’s going on. Maybe she can come down or something. She’s her daughter… maybe she’ll recognize her.”

  “Maybe,” Cheryl said soothingly. “I’ll keep trying. I’ve been showing her your photo albums. Right now, she’s been pushing them away, but there’s a new Polaroid of the two of you from a few days ago. Maybe it will spark something, you know? I’ll show it to her again after lunch.”

  “Alright,” I choked out. �
��Call me, you know, if…”

  Oh, fuck. The tears were just coming now, a nervous breakdown exploding right in the middle of the goddamned hallway of the motherfucking facility while a sweet red-haired twenty-something in Hello motherfucking Kitty scrubs held my hand. Meanwhile, I stood there clasping a plate of goddamned banana bread… um… weeping. Out loud. In pink shorts and a goddamned striped Alexander Wang tank top from the motherfucking discount rack, thank you very fucking much!

  Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!

  Okay.

  I could do this.

  I cleared my throat. “Okay, Cheryl. Thank you. I will call my mother. Please let me know if anything changes.”

  “You alright, Ben?” she asked quietly.

  “Mmmhmm,” I assured her. Of course I was. “Perfect.”

  “Um, okay.” She patted my hand one final time and walked away, her sweet little pink Crocs squeaking behind her.

  Now I just needed to call my mom. Tell her that her own mother didn’t know who we were today. Then I needed to cancel my date with the most incredible man on the planet. Work a midday shift, because sure, of course, no problem.

  I couldn’t handle Jesse right now. I knew I didn’t necessarily have to cancel my date—Oma wasn’t going anywhere—but I couldn’t deal with any of this right now. Right now, I was Ben the Basket case—I’d been there before and Jesse certainly didn’t need to witness that—and I just needed a few days alone.

  I needed my mom. She knew just how to tame Basket case Ben.

  “Mom,” I sobbed into the phone.

  “Oh, boy,” she said with a sigh. “What’s goin’ on, little bear?”

  “Can you…?”

  “Okay, Benji. Let it out.”

  “I went to Indian Villas this morning and I just wore the dumbest outfit in the whole wide world, but Cheryl was there—she’s the nurse who helps take care of Oma—anyway, she was standing outside of reception, which was weird because she’s never there, but that’s beside the point. Anyway, she told me that Oma had a bad night, like a really bad night and that she didn’t remember anyone. Like she couldn’t even remember Grandma Nancy. She wouldn’t look at the photo albums and she pushed her away and then she asked if she wanted her to call me and… she didn’t remember me, Mom.” I let out a long breath. “She didn’t remember me.”