by Mabie, M.
“Yeah, I'll be all over that.” I think about what that conversation would sound like and then laugh and laugh. He might go for it. If it could help. Then again, he probably would have already mentioned it. My dope hopes disappear.
I still plan on asking though. The squeaky wheel gets the grease, right?
Winnie and I get high. So high.
When Ray picks us up, I think he can smell it, because he reminds us that we're not allowed to smoke in the car. Not that we would, but I feel a little juvenile when I hear him say it. It’s like being caught by your dad, only my dad would have just gotten in line for a hit.
The party is fun. Winnie is so greasy from the oily men rubbing on her all night. We do shots and dance with the entertainment. Molly even gets a lap dance, and she laughs so hard she pees. A few times actually.
The only men who were invited were Neil and Luis. For some reason, I thought that the big, beefy strippers would be put off by men being there, but they just play right along. Honestly, I think that Neil is more uncomfortable than they are. Luis hijacks more than one routine, getting up and trying to jump into their choreography without getting caught.
It is fabulous.
When I get home, I call Ben to tell him all about it. He doesn't answer, so I leave a message.
“I'm sure you're still out with my brother throwing dollars at boobies, but I just wanted to call and tell you I had a fun night.” I stop, thinking about what else I want to say.
It's so easy to talk to voicemail sometimes. There's no interrupting. There aren’t any sighs or buts. Only you.
“And I wanted to let you know that I got home. I missed you tonight. I'll talk to you tomorrow.” I still don't hang up, my throat stuck on something else, feeling a little sad that he isn't here.
Then my cell lights up. I end his call and see a text from Cooper.
Cooper: You're boy is fun, but drunk. He's staying at my place.
Me: Thanks. Love you.
I'm glad that Cooper and Ben are getting along so well, but I didn't expect Ben to be the drunk one and Cooper to be taking care of him. A least not tonight.
“Tate, is it serious with Ben?” Cooper asks me the next morning. He brought me over breakfast and is dropping off the keys Ben left at their place that morning.
“I don't know,” I answer honestly. “Why does everyone keep bringing this shit up? If you have something to say, just say it then.”
“Bitch.” he says around a mouth of jelly doughnut. Weird how siblings get away with name-calling so easily. We've actually kind of mastered it over the years. He's called me a bitch so many times that it's almost my second name. He's my brother though. He loves me. He loves me enough to deserve the right to call me a bitch when I'm being one.
Them's the rules.
“Dick.”
“Okay. Here it is.” He wipes his mouth and looks me straight in the face. “I like the guy, Tatum. I do. How much do you like him?”
I must act like a real piece of work. Everyone insists that he's into me and they have no clue how I feel.
Whoa. I'm doing it again.
Was Kurt like this in the beginning? No.
I thought I was doing better. I thought that I'd progressed. Just goes to show you that, just because you think you're doing something, it doesn't mean you are. I guess.
“What are you talking about? I like him. A lot.”
“You do? Then why do you seem so mechanical with him around us? I'm just trying to see what big brother talk I'm supposed to being giving here.” Fuck. He's not taking it easy on me today.
“I like him. I mean…I care about him. Uhh… Where's my time machine? I want to undo this conversation.” I start to pick up the trash to get away from him.
But he follows, turning me back around by the elbow. “So why do you act like that then?”
“You don't see what we're like in private, Cooper! Maybe I'm just not into public petting around my brother. Ever think about that?” I shout.
His face registers my point, but he knows better than to believe it. “It isn't about that. Are you worried about something? Is he good to you? I need something here.” What a brother thing to assume.
Lowering my voice, I say, “Cooper, he's so, so, so good to me. He is. Maybe that's my problem. Maybe he's a little too good.” I stand there looking down at my feet. “And here it is. I think it's just going to disappear like everything else. Maybe it's easy for me sometimes and almost impossible other times to even look at things, feel things, enjoy things. I might love him, Cooper. But what good does that do him? He has things he doesn't want to tell me, maybe because he doesn't trust me. I wouldn't trust me. I'm flighty and moody. I want him. I want him to leave. I need him. He could do better. Have more.” I offer to keep rambling, but Cooper shakes his head that it was enough.
Then I stand up, flinging around until I smack my hand against the counter. My knuckle gets the brunt of it. It's not bleeding, but I stick it in my mouth to better it somehow.
My fist is in the way, but it doesn't stop the rant I'm on. To hell with what Cooper wants to hear. “What if he gets sick of me, taking care of me, helping me? What if I don't end up with anything to offer him?”
He looks at me with such compassion. “Love's like that, kid. It's a risky fucker. It is the ultimate best and worst thing.” He pulls my finger from my mouth, sets my hand at my side, and continues after some thought. “Only love can scare you this shitless. But would you want it any other way? That's where you're at, Tate. You're in love, but you're still fighting the fear. You'll never win. First, it's a fear of them leaving or finding someone knew. Then, commitment sets in and washes you with worry for their safety. It doesn't end until the love does. So it's your call. You can end the worry, but you lose him too.”
My arms furiously shoot up in the air. “You sell houses! What do you know?”
He grabs my arms again and calmly puts them at my sides again. “I know a lot about you, little sister. And believe it or not, I'm actually a pretty decent dude.”
“You are.” I hug my brother. “But you're still a dick.”
A few of us drive up to Martha's Vineyard a few days before the wedding. Winnie wants to oversee the preparation and I sincerely want to help. Since my talk with Cooper, I've been trying to be a little less neurotic—or moronic, is it?—about my relationship.
I'm going out of my way, trying to be affectionate with Ben around other people. Maybe Cooper was right. Maybe Ben needed reassurance just like anyone. I've also been sending him sweet text messages when we were away from each other. Well, my version of sweet.
Me: Send me a dick pic.
Me: I can hardly walk today.
Me: I'm thinking about you. I mean—you in glasses.
Thinks like that. Tatum's authentic romance. It's an acquired taste.
I think he likes it because he usually will send me a picture. He knows when I won't be able to walk the next day, so he knows that it's probably true. And he is forbidden to take the glasses home. Ever.
I think he might love me, too.
So it's the ride up north that I text him the following:
Me: When are you coming up here again? I already want you with me.
It isn't too long before I receive his reply.
Ben: I like that. I'll see you Friday.
Friday. Shit, it is only Wednesday evening. This is going to take forever.
Ben has become a regular visitor of my bed. He's spent more nights at my place than his own in the past weeks. I even stay there sometimes. It's peculiar being in his space, but I'm doing my best.
He left the bathroom light on for me that first night. So I thanked him generously. With my mouth.
We both slept very well.
On Wednesday night, I can't sleep at all. Usually a good hotel bed does it for me. Even though it's a full size smaller than my king at home, it seems too big. I rustle restlessly all night and finally go to sleep watching the Home Shopping Network around three o'clo
ck.
I am not the most fun girl the next morning.
Flowers are arriving and being stored in a large walk-in coolers, and the chefs prepare meals for us to taste for the rehearsal and reception. We reorganize the seating charts so many fucking times that I almost cry out of sheer annoyance. Who in the hell sits down at a reception after eating? It is a crock of shit, I tell you.
Sleep doesn’t evade me tonight. I had Ben read me a few chapters in the crime novel he was into and I dozed right off, the inflection and steady tone of his voice like my very own sexy lullaby.
I have dreams about my own wedding. That's the most monumental part of the dream anyway. The rest is just some bullshit about Wes starting a game show. Which I will of course email to the Devons for them to recreate for next season.
When I wake on Friday, I'm so relieved that I won't have to go much longer without seeing Ben.
What if I'd lost my sight while I was sleeping? That's the newest game I like to play with myself. It's called What Will Still Be Here Tomorrow?
My sight is fleeting, and I race to see and memorize everything lately. This wedding might be the last I see. That makes me sad, but at the same time, I'm so thankful that I’ll get the chance to see it.
The Hippies aren't staying at the same resort we are. Instead, they've opted for a spot at an actual vineyard owned by their friends that isn't too far. Winnie, Cooper, and I meet them when they arrive.
It is a beautiful day. The sun is out, and it's the perfect temperature—not too hot and not too breezy. This area received a lot of rain over the summer, so everything is still lush and colorful even into August.
“There's my girl!” my dad says as he bounds up to me wearing khaki shorts and button-up that's misbuttoned, his arms spread out wide. “You look so pretty, Sis.” He steps back to appraise me, his hands still on my shoulders. “Your hair is shorter, but it suits you,” he says, placing a Dad kiss on my forehead. “And where's this bride?” He spins around, animatedly looking for Winnie.
“Hi, Mr. Elliot,” Winnie greets and easily hugs him.
“Yo, I'm retired. It's Pat.”
“Okay.”
I say, “Hey, Pat. Where's my mom?” since I’m wondering if she's planning on joining us in the lot that they've chosen to stay at for the weekend.
“She was sleeping when we pulled in. I just woke her up. She'll be out. Don't worry.”
“Hi, Dad.” Cooper begins to offer a handshake and, when Dad grimaces, he hugs him instead.
“Hi, son.” My replies to Cooper before turning back to me. “I thought you were bringing your lover to the wedding, Tatum. Where's he at?”
“My lover? Uh. Gross. Ben, my boyfriend, is driving up later this afternoon. He had to be in Washington for work.”
Why did I say that? Why?
Probably because I wanted someone else to ask the questions that I secretly needed the answers to.
Like clockwork, my dad asks, “What kind of work?” That's a good question, and coming from my very liberal father, he's more than curious what my lover would be doing there. “I thought the dude worked for you?”
“I think he's a spy on the side, Dad. It's all very mysterious. You don't want him to have to kill me, do you?”
“How exciting.” A smile lights his eyes.
“My children!” Mom's silver head pops around the hippie-mobile and literally skips in her sundress and signature cardigan into Cooper's arms. She kisses him all over the face. “My baby boy is getting married!” He no more than sets her down and she's embraced Winnie. “And to Gwendolyn! I love it. Sweetheart, you look fantastic. Are you excited?”
“Very!” Winnie tells her. They're still holding hands, swinging them in their shared excitement. “I think everything is ready though. Thanks to Tate. She's helped so much.”
“She has? How conventional of her.” My mother comes to me, holds my face in her hands, and kisses me on the lips. She always does that. I've always felt weird kissing people on the lips. But as they've always been, my mother’s lips are soft, and her smell envelops me. Lemons smell like her, I'm convinced.
“I have. It's been really fun.”
“How's your sight, darling?” she says only to me. We don't talk a lot, but since this has been an ongoing thing since my teenage years, she knows that it isn't just magically going to right itself.
“Oh. It's fine. I'm feeling good.” I wish I could tell her honestly how I feel, but I can't. I love my mother and my father, but it's always been Cooper who I rely on for anything emotional. It works for us.
They invite us in and we drink iced tea and chat about the events for both tonight and tomorrow. The two most easygoing people on the planet don't refuse any of Winnie’s or Cooper's requests, which are few.
Grooms’ parents don't really have much to do in a wedding, it turns out. Basically show up and have a good time.
My phone vibrates and it's Ben.
Ben: I'm here. Checking into my room.
Me: Your room? You mean my room?
We planned on sharing a room this weekend, but I don't dwell on it even though I left him a keycard at the front desk and they know who to expect.
Ben: I just went ahead and got one. Where are you?
Me: With The Hippies. Be there soon.
Ben: Room 55C.
I do everything I can to rush through the visit with our parents and get back to the hotel. I guess my urge to leave is noticeable, and Winnie saves me by telling them that she needs to head back to get ready.
Of course, when we get there, we run into every Tom, Dick, and Harry we know. Wes is there, and most of our work friends were already occupying the lounge. Their laughter and commotion can be heard across the property, I'm sure.
Rehearsal isn't until four, and I have a few precious hours that I want to spend with Ben. Preferably naked—or something like it. I know it's only been a few short days since I last saw him, but I can't get to him fast enough.
His room is on the other side of the complex, not with our block. I navigate the long halls that only seem to get longer the faster I go.
Finally, 55C.
“Room service for Benny,” I say through the door after only a light rap of my knuckles on it. I've never felt this much pull to one person in my life.
“I'm waiting for my girlfriend,” he yells through the closed door. “Come back later.”
“She, um, called. She's not coming. So you can let me in,” I sing back in the same melody as he just used.
The door cracks open and only his eyeball shines through the space that the chain lock allows. “You are hot though.” He meets me in the doorjamb, smooching my lips between the wood.
“Kiss me,” I say, forfeiting the game to purchase a taste of him. I make kissing sounds, sucking the air between my lips.
He finds them with his and smacks one on me then licks them. “Back up, crazy. I'll let you in.”
I shoot up. To open the door he must first close it, and I don't need to be looking like I have a botched lip fill all weekend. My lips are spared, despite his rush to open up.
He opens the door, looking both ways like he's being sneaky. Bracing himself with one arm on the doorway, he urgently grabs me around the waist and pulls me inside.
“That was close. Someone could have seen us.”
“I wouldn't care if they did. Come here.” I'm hungry for one thing, and it's Ben. I frantically clutch at him like he's a soldier home from the war. My arms undecidedly roam from around his neck to his waist and ass over and over.
“Someone missed me?” he asks, backing himself up to a wall and carrying me with him.
“I did miss you. Everyone else kisses like shit.” I pepper kisses all over his face and neck.
“Well, stop kissing everyone. Just kiss me.” He laughs, wrapping my legs more securely around him and blanketing my spread ass with both hands in support. I damn near eat the man alive.
“You smell so...” My brain fumbles. Adjective. Adjective! �
��Ben.” I hold him tight and slow my assault. “I'm better near you.”
“Oh, my sweet baby. I'm better near you too.”
I watch as he wets his lip before he claims mine. I'm a closed-eye kissing girl every time. But not this time. This one I want to see. As he deepens the kiss and moans into me, his brows knit together and he tightens his arms and chest around me. I've never witnessed such an expression.
His body said, “Mine,” on mute.
I close my eyes then, deciding to feel it instead of merely watching. I don't have to see anymore. I wanted to feel instead, and I can.
Maybe he is my lover.
That gross hippie was right. They always are.
It's all too soon that I have to leave for my room to get ready for the rehearsal. We're both sweaty and messed up so good that I don't want to leave. Ben keeps touching me and begging for one more time.
Before I consent, I leave to my own room for a shower and to change.
The rehearsal is limited to just the wedding party and parents. While Winnie goes through some of stuff with the officiant, Ben and our parents talk about our trip, and I decide to mess with Cooper a little.
“You know, if you're planning on being a pussy and crying, you might want to do it here. Get it out at rehearsal. You know?”
“You're probably right. Marrying Winnie assures me I'm never, ever fucking getting rid of you. Am I?”
We laugh.
He's right though. It will always be me and Winnie no matter what. I'm not too proud to say that they're both getting the very best with her.
We have an incredible night. My mom and dad chat Ben's ear off, telling him of their travels, and Ben's genuinely interested. He smiles at me every once in a while when he catches me looking at him.
After dinner, we do karaoke in the hotel bar. Neil and Wes do “Rocket Man” and Winnie and I sign up for every Bon Jovi song on their list.
We drink and play late into the night.
I wake up the morning of Cooper's wedding tangled in the most beautiful man's arms.
As I roll over to study his face, he stirs and says, “Good morning, baby,” before pulling me in closer and trying to go back to sleep for a few more minutes.