by Anna Martin
“What?” She stuck her head around the door from the dining room.
“Your dog,” I said, pointing to my lone loafer, which was looking distinctly soggy. “Why is it your dog only chews my shoes?”
“Why is it she’s only my dog when she’s in trouble?”
“She’s your dog all the time,” I grouched. “But especially when she’s in trouble. Seriously, though, she never touches Will’s shoes. What is it about mine?”
“Maybe you have nice-tasting feet. You should take it as a compliment.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, and she ducked back into the dining room, snickering to herself. I stuck my tongue out at her retreating back.
Dad and Will were looking over the side of the house where Dad wanted to build a new garage. I’d already walked over the area with him a couple of times, talking plans and how much space he’d need to put a workbench along the back. It was endearing he wanted to involve Will too; I liked that he respected Will’s opinion as much as mine. Plus, Will had done a lot of renovations on his house in Seattle, converting the attic space and putting a door through from our garage to the kitchen so we didn’t have to walk around the house in the rain. That was one of the problems with older houses—they weren’t nearly as convenient.
They came back into the kitchen talking contractors, and Will brushed my ass with his hand as he passed me, a move too subtle for anyone else to notice.
“All right, grub’s up,” I said, turning off the burners on the stove and taking the pot straight to the table so we could serve ourselves.
“Smells good,” Dad said.
Will had made lemonade and stuffed it full of ice and fine slivers of lemon, the perfect, icy complement to the heat of the chili. Dinners like this had become familiar over the past few months, something I’d grown to treasure. It was frequently a messy sort of affair, food prepared by one inexpert hand or another. That didn’t matter at all.
When we all sat down together to eat, things worked a little differently compared to how they were before. Mama didn’t preside over the table. We all chipped in, talking over each other, me teasing my sister. She didn’t mind, not really. I’d done it all her life. It was how we were these days, so much better than the almost-silent meals we’d shared in the weeks after Mama passed.
I was starting to feel like my family was re-forming after the shock of losing her. With having one woman leading the family, when she was gone, we all floundered for a time, wondering what the structure would be in the future now that there wasn’t one person holding us all together. I had thought that role would fall on me, as the oldest child, but the funniest thing had happened.
We’d all stepped up. In different ways, of course. I couldn’t discount my own role or Will’s, but we were becoming interdependent in a way we hadn’t been before. It was nice. It took the pressure off and lessened the expectations, allowing us all to find a new place in the family.
Having Will around while it took shape over a number of months was the biggest relief. I knew my dad liked him—more than that, respected him—and his place in the family was almost as cemented as mine.
When we got home, Will pulled me onto the couch and sat twisted around. Then he grabbed hold of my hands.
“I need to tell you something,” he said.
“Okay,” I said slowly and shifted until I was comfortable, leaning with my shoulder against the thick cushion. “Go on.”
“Actually, I need to apologize for something. It’s Matthew.”
I tried not to make a face at the sound of the name. I hadn’t brought him up again, not wanting to fuel the fire of that argument. I knew they were still working on overlapping projects. Every now and then I’d see his name on a report Will was reading.
“He…,” Will said, then took a deep breath. “I think I see where you were coming from.”
“Did he hit on you again?” I asked.
“No, not really. It’s just, I don’t know. He’s been a bit more distant since that dinner, and now he’s doing the same sort of thing with another guy in the office. I didn’t think anything of it at first. I was just relieved I didn’t have to deal with him anymore. He was at the coffee machine yesterday with this other guy I work with and—fuck—I don’t know. I just… I see it now.”
I nodded and reached up to cup his cheek. “I love you,” I said sincerely.
“Love you too,” he murmured, turning his face and planting a kiss on my palm. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay. He’s ancient history.”
“I should have trusted you—” Will started, but I cut him off.
“Will,” I said seriously. “It’s done. Gone. I don’t want to even think about him anymore, okay?”
He nodded. “Okay.”
The next day, Will had a full day of video conferences planned, so he let me use his car to get to Ben, who lived farther upstate. Will would be back in Atlanta the next day, so he could pick up anything he needed on his way.
I liked driving the sporty little car Will’s company was paying for. It was different from a big, lumbering truck, and I could push it to good speed on the freeway.
For the first time in months, I sang along to the radio as I drove across the state, feeling lighter than I had in a long time. I couldn’t quite put my finger on exactly why. It was a combination of being able to get out of my self-imposed isolation and hang out with someone new and fun, and having made peace with my mother’s memory.
It was definitely edging into fall. The leaves were turning, even if it still seemed freakishly warm for the time of year. Kids were already back at school in our county, had been for weeks.
I used the GPS to navigate to Ben’s house. I was familiar with the area, but not familiar enough to find his street without help. It was a small place, about the same sort of size as our yellow house, neat, looking like it had been restored. His skill with a hammer and saw made me think he’d done it himself.
When I’d crossed into his county, I’d called Ben to let him know I was close, and his garage door was open, as promised. After locking the car, I stepped out into the fuzzy heat and made long strides toward his workspace.
“Jesse?” he called out as I approached.
“Yeah.”
“Come on in.”
I stuck my head around the door and grinned at him. “Hey.”
“Hi,” he said with a laugh, apparently pleased to see me. “How’s it going?”
“Good,” I said.
“Come here, I want to show you something.”
I followed him through the workshop; he’d done a good job of transforming the simple garage space into somewhere that was a fully functioning carpentry shop. There were half-finished pieces on every surface, although I sensed there was some underlying order I couldn’t quite grasp.
“Here,” Ben said. “I finished this last night. Stayed up ’til almost three in the morning because I couldn’t bear to go to bed until it was done.”
It was a wide dresser, two drawers at the top with cupboards underneath. Around the outside he’d carved vines, twisting up and around the drawers.
“Wow,” I said.
“It still needs to be varnished,” Ben said nervously. “And I need to fix the decals. I’m not happy with it yet.”
“No, it’s amazing,” I said. “I can’t imagine how much skill it takes to make something like that.”
He shrugged off the compliment. “It’s a hobby.”
“What are you going to do with it when you’re done?” I asked. “Sell it?”
“Maybe. Yeah. Probably. Not sure yet.”
I laughed and punched his arm. “Come on.”
Ben laughed too. “I know. I find it really hard to sell stuff. Not because I’m attached to it or anything, but I never know how much to ask. People tell me I undercut myself, but I can’t ever put ridiculous prices on it.”
“How much would you sell this for?”
He shrugged. “A couple hundred, maybe?”
“Are you seri
ous?”
“All right, maybe eighty bucks.”
“No, I meant you could get at least four, maybe five hundred for something like this,” I said.
“No, I couldn’t.”
“You can,” I said, laughing. “I promise.”
“Well… it’s not done yet,” he said, steering me round to show me something else. “That rocker is nearly done. Getting the balance right has been a bitch, I’ll tell you.”
“It’s gorgeous.”
I ran my hand over the smooth wood, exploring the grain. It was clearly a labor of love. I couldn’t imagine putting this much time and effort into something that was “just a hobby.”
Ben showed me his space, enthusiasm lighting his face as he explained the different tools, the few he’d inherited from his grandfather, who had taught him the basics of carpentry as a child, and other, more recent acquisitions.
“You should quit your day job. Do this full-time,” I said, unable to stop touching the delicate spindles he’d made for a stool.
“Nah. Then it becomes something I have to do instead of something I want to do. I like coming home to this. It just wipes away whatever shit I’ve had to deal with at work during the day.”
I nodded. “Yeah. That makes sense. And if you can make some money off it too….”
“That’s a bonus,” he said, finishing the sentence.
I grinned. “Exactly.”
“You want to go somewhere?” he offered. “Or we could just hang out here for a while. I’ve got beers if you want one.”
“A beer sounds great.”
“Awesome.”
When he smiled at me, I couldn’t help but smile back.
THE NEXT time I saw Ben, he’d made the trip over to me so I didn’t have to do all the driving again. Plus, I couldn’t really take my dad or sister’s trucks too far in case they needed them.
It felt weird, inviting him into the house I shared with Will, and we didn’t linger before heading out for lunch at one of the chain restaurants that offered a good midweek deal. I was getting short on personal cash, and even though I had access to our joint account, I didn’t like taking lots of funds out of there. It was mostly Will’s account.
I wasn’t sure if I had gained a reputation all over town as the local homosexual, or if the hostess was just weird, but we got a look from her when we walked in.
“That’s why I fucking hate it down here,” Ben whispered to me as we were led to a table. “Fucking homophobes.”
He gave her a charming grin, though, when she handed us menus.
“Why don’t you move?” I asked. “Find somewhere more liberal.”
Ben sighed and picked at the ragged edge of the menu. “I don’t know. I could. I have a cousin that lives in Philly. She’s been saying for years I should move there.”
“What’s stopping you?”
He muttered something under his breath.
“Huh?”
“It’s fucking cold up North, all right? I’m not built for the chill.”
His skin was bronze and smooth as brandy butter. I laughed at him. “Pussy.”
“Ew. No thanks.”
We ordered drinks, then sandwich plates, then leaned back in our chairs and sipped good iced tea. Ben put extra sugar in his, something Will always chastised me about so I’d gotten out of the habit. I liked my tea sweet.
“It’s much easier to meet… people,” I said, hedging my bets on his hornier side. “People who have similar interests to you.”
“Pssh. I get laid plenty. Just ’cause y’all have to call in a third….”
“Hey,” I protested. “Will and I like to explore the whole sexual buffet. Not just nibble at the edges.”
“Is that so?”
“Mm,” I drawled.
Ben gave me an inquisitive stare. “Y’all are kinky.”
I snorted. “Yeah.”
“Like….”
“Yeah,” I repeated emphatically, cutting him off before he started naming sexual acts in the middle of a restaurant in the middle of the day.
Our food turned up, giving us a chance to fuss, making room on the table for the plates and top-ups of tea. Ben had gone quiet, and I wondered if I’d said the wrong thing.
“This is good,” he said after a minute, poking at his towering club sandwich.
“Yeah. Did I make things awkward?”
“Not at all. I’m just wondering if I should have got more out of our ‘one time only.’”
I shrugged. “Maybe. It was fun, though.”
“Have you guys been with someone since me?”
“No. We don’t do it all that often, Ben. It’s just something different, you know, every now and then.”
He was quiet again for a moment. “It would be hot, though….”
“Ben. Please don’t go there. It worked the first time because we didn’t know you. If we did it again, it would be weird. We don’t play with anyone we know for that reason.”
“Play?” He had a funny look on his face. “It’s a game to you?”
I’d never been challenged on my sexual exploits before. It was one of the reasons why one-night stands worked so well. We never had to explain.
“In a way, yeah,” I said, as gently as I could. I picked at my chicken BLT, shredding the crust of the bread.
For a minute, I thought he was going to say something else. Then he shrugged and asked about my sister.
I let it go. We’d been nothing but honest with him throughout the whole experience, and it wasn’t my fault if he’d gotten the wrong end of the stick. I asked him about his college football team, something I’d learned he was fairly passionate about, and it was like our previous conversation was forgotten.
I still wasn’t confident it was over. Ben didn’t look particularly happy, and his smile seemed more forced than usual. We split the check, as we usually did, and he held the door for me as we walked back to the cars. He’d parked right next to me.
“I should get going,” I said. “Sorry to cut this short. I’ve got work to do this afternoon.”
Ben nodded. “Me too. I’ll catch up with you again next week, though?”
“Yeah.” I grinned at him. “For sure.”
I frowned as Ben looked around, checking for anyone else in the parking lot. Then, for one horrifying moment, the world stopped as he leaned in and brushed his soft, dry lips over mine.
I froze.
This was no deterrent. Ben continued to kiss me gently, seemingly uncaring that I wasn’t responding to his advances. In a detached way, I decided he was a nice kisser. But of course, I already knew that.
“I can’t do this,” I said, pulling back sharply, pushing him away.
“Hm?”
“I’m sorry.” What was I apologizing for? “I can’t do this to Will.”
“Will’s in Atlanta. Come on, Jesse,” he said, his voice hard, annoyed. “You know what’s going on here.”
“What’s going on here?” I echoed.
“You told me yourself Will is the first guy you were with. You’re conditioned to think you’ll stay with him forever, even when the reality is there’s someone better out there for you.”
“I don’t think so.”
“No? We’re the same sort of person. We’re both Southerners. We grew up in this homophobic armpit of the country. I know what you went through—I was there too. We’re not like Will. There was no middle-class acceptance in my house.”
“My dad doesn’t care,” I said. “That’s not the point, though. Will’s my partner. I love him.”
“Yeah? Why are you here, then?”
“You’re right. I should go. I’m sorry, Ben. I didn’t mean to lead you on, if that’s what I’ve been doing. I should go.”
I’d said that already, and the look on his face only convinced me to do it quicker. I forced myself not to run away from him and hopped into my dad’s car, which was parked a few spaces over. I was out of the lot and on the highway before I noticed I hadn’t even put
my seat belt on.
Because my heart was pounding so hard, I pulled over to the side of the road and leaned back in the seat. There was a bottle of water next to me, and I drained it quickly and took some deep breaths, trying to calm down. Then I buckled up and drove the rest of the way home.
As I drove down our road, I noticed Will’s car was already parked outside the house. He must have left work early. I shook my head, feeling like the worst person in the world.
It didn’t take long to drop the car at my dad’s and walk back up the street. Will was wearing boxers and a tank top, sitting on the sofa with the TV on.
“Hi,” he said as I let myself in, looking up over his shoulder and grinning at me.
“Hi. You’re home early.”
“Mm. They released me sooner than I expected. Were you with Ben?”
It felt like an accusation, a punch to my stomach. “Yeah.”
“Jesse?” Will frowned. “You okay?”
I knew all along I was going to tell him about it. I could have hidden it, pretended nothing had happened, that Ben and I had just grown apart. He’d know, though, in that all-sensing way he had about him.
“Not really,” I said and sat on the side chair rather than the couch next to him. Will quickly shifted round to face me.
“Did something happen with Ben?”
“You could say that.” I forced myself to look up at him. I couldn’t hide. I wasn’t a coward. “He kissed me.”
“Oh.”
Silence.
“I’m sorry, Will.”
“Did he hurt you?”
I shook my head. “No. I just left.”
Will looked away, and I could almost see the pressure building inside him until it broke loose.
“Fucking hell!” he yelled. “This is bullshit.”
“Will, I—”
“No,” he said, interrupting. “No. You don’t get to speak right now.”
For a terrifying minute, I wondered if this was the beginning of the end. If one of us had finally done something totally unforgiveable. Then he came over and crouched in front of me, bracing his arms on the chair either side of my legs.
“Did you want him to kiss you?” he asked.
“No.”
“Good. He’s not having you, Jesse. I would go to the ends of the Earth to keep you safe and mine. If he thinks he can take you that easily, he’s got it very, very wrong.”