Benji and the Wireman

by Charlie Winters

  Another drawing of the house donned the next page, only this one was in the kitchen, a wild flame shooting out of the electrical socket.

  “There was a great fire in the palace and Benji was forced to call the town wireman, a lowly serf named Jesse Solomon. He was a simple man, truly undeserving of Benji’s devotion, but neither could deny that it was love at first sight. Benji longed to see Jesse again, even texting him a semi-naked photograph of himself in the jade pool. Jesse could not resist and soon began to make excuses to see Benji on a near-daily basis.”

  I smiled widely and turned the page. There was a simple illustration of a body of water, a nighttime moon illuminating the surface.

  “But Princess Anna couldn’t stay with Benji, as she was ready for the next chapter in her life. She swam into the ocean and into the arms of her great love, the fairest of all sea sirens, Nancy.”

  My eyes swelled and my throat nearly closed, but I turned the paper slowly.

  One of me in a pink suit.

  “Luckily for Benji, he was strong. He was the strongest man in all of the land and was able to pick himself up and learn how to live without Princess Anna. But he didn’t have to do it alone. He had the strapping electrician to hold him up. Jesse loved him and would carry any burdens that Benji had to bear.”

  I lifted my head to roll my eyes, but found I couldn’t. Jesse was looking directly at me, kneading his hands together in his lap. He was nervous. I raised my hand to his bearded cheek and rubbed my thumb over the soft hair before turning the page.

  “The next few months were hard on Benji, but he and Jesse fell more and more in love. Jesse thought that maybe Benji needed a break. Benji worked so hard and deserved to go somewhere special. An adventure!”

  The next page had a drawing of a plane. Benji and Jesse were waving out of one of the small windows.

  “They went all the way to the City of Love.”

  On the opposite side was a sketch of the Arc de Triomphe, flowers adorning the sides in large, ornate pots. The next page was a black-and-white outline of what appeared to be the Louvre. The two of us were drawn outside near a fountain, sharing a long loaf of bread, both with red berets on our heads.

  “At the end of the week, Jesse got down on one knee.”

  I turned the page slowly, swallowing the lump in my throat.

  The last page showed Jesse in a black and white long-sleeved striped t-shirt, a red scarf tied around his neck. He was kneeling and had my hand in his, brandishing a bright yellow band.

  When I looked up, Jesse was on his knee, right there in our living room, in a pair of black underwear.

  “I know,” he started, clearing his throat loudly, “that we aren’t in Paris, but… I love you, Ben.” He cleared his throat again. “At the end of that book, there are two tickets for our honeymoon… that is, if you’ll marry me.” With a final clearing, he produced a small gold band and held it up to me. “Will you marry me?”

  I nodded almost shyly, a short sob cracking my weak voice.

  I did find my voice though. The Benji he had described was strong. He could pick himself up. He was the strongest man in all of the land. But, he also didn’t have to do it alone.

  “Yes.”

  (…and they both lived happily ever after.)