Fire Down Below

by Andrea Simonne

  “I can’t. It’s too expensive.”

  “All right,” he says with a sigh. “What time is it? We should go back. I’m supposed to meet with Greg and I still have to pretend I’m interested in work.”

  We head back to our building and it’s turned into a really beautiful summer day. No more drizzly rain. The sun feels warm against my face and arms. I glance over at Declan and when our eyes meet we both grin.

  When I get to my desk, I bring up the current Java script I’ve been working on and think about how nice it would be to spend more time doing creative stuff and less time programming. As I’m sitting there my phone rings and I can see from the ID that it’s my mom.

  “Hi Sweetheart,” she says. “I know you’re busy at work, but I’ll be brief. I spoke to Lynn and Karma the other day and they said they’d be happy to talk to you about their experience with using a sperm donor. They have the cutest little girl named Maddie.”

  I groan. “I really don’t want to deal with this right now.”

  “You’ll be thirty-five in only a few more months. You can’t afford to wait. It might take a while for you to get pregnant, so I wouldn’t keep putting it off.”

  For many years my parents never worried that I wasn’t married. They’re both what you’d call aging hippies and I always attributed their mellowness to their overall liberalism in general. They raised me to be independent and I’m grateful they did. My mom is a strong feminist and definitely subscribes to the whole axiom of, “A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.” She’s on the local board of Planned Parenthood and is involved with NOW and NARAL and Take Back the Night. It’s all cool stuff. And even though I’m not political, I appreciate where she’s coming from. When she was younger, women didn’t have anywhere near as many choices as we do now. My friends have always been envious because when I talk to my mom she never asks me whether I have a boyfriend or whether I’m seeing somebody.

  Then about a year ago it all changed. I made the mistake of mentioning to her—after a couple glasses of wine on my thirty-fourth birthday, mind you—that if I didn’t meet the right man soon I might consider have a child with a sperm donor. It was just one of those things you say as a passing fancy, but my mom latched onto the idea and now I can’t get her latched off. She’s decided I should have a baby, husband or no husband. And apparently my uterus is scheduled for detonation at midnight on my thirty-fifth birthday. As a retired psychologist she’s well connected in the community and knows a lot of lesbian and gay couples who have used sperm donors and keeps trying to get me to speak with them.

  “I’ll think about it,” I say, wondering whether I should tell her about my lunch date with Ben. She probably wouldn’t approve knowing our history. “You’ll never believe who I’m having lunch with today. Remember Ben?”

  “Ben Mathews? Oh, Sweetheart—is that wise? You know I just saw his mother Linda not long ago.”

  “You did? You’ve never told me that. Did she mention him?”

  “I didn’t think you’d want to hear about him after the way he broke your heart all those years ago. I still get upset thinking about it. You two were so close. He was almost like a part of our family. Besides the last time I saw Linda she said Ben was engaged.”

  I feel sick to my stomach. He’s engaged? I should have known. I begin kicking myself, because I knew I was making way too much of this stupid lunch. I don’t know why I do this to myself.

  “When was this?”

  “A couple of months ago. I saw her at the fundraiser for the new library.”

  “I see.”

  She sighs. “I know you think I’m being a pest about all this sperm donor business, but you have to understand that I want you to have the best life possible.”

  “I know mom, I will think about it some more—okay?”

  “All right, I’m glad to hear that. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  I hang up the phone and stare into space. So Ben is engaged, possibly even married. I suddenly have a strong urge to cancel our lunch today. I’m tempted to call Suzy and Lauren and tell them what I’ve just heard and get their advice, but instead I stare out of my office window.

  I think about my mom’s baby obsession and wonder if maybe she’s right. I always imagined myself having children when I was married someday, but what if that someday never comes, or what if it comes too late for me to get pregnant?

  Chapter Six

  The Past….

  Despite that awful evening I had meeting Ben’s friends, and despite all our differences, things between Ben and I didn’t fizzle, they sizzled. We began to spend nearly all of our time together. His parents had a vacation home near Stevens Pass and we’d been driving out there every other weekend under the guise of doing something outdoorsy, though we seldom left the confines of the ‘Love Shack.’ It was hardly a shack though and was a handsomely furnished three-bedroom house. His parents only used it during the winter months to go skiing, so we had the place to ourselves whenever we wanted.

  “Why aren’t you ready yet?” Ben asked. He was sitting on my bed, watching me frantically throw clothes into a large leather tote.

  “Because I got distracted, that’s all. It won’t take me long to pack.” The truth was I’d been creating a portfolio of my paintings so I could apply to some art colleges. I didn’t want to tell Ben about it yet. I didn’t know what he would say since the colleges I was applying to were all on the East Coast. We’re talking the biggies—Pratt, Rhode Island School of Design, Cooper, Yale School of Art, to name a few. I didn’t know what it would mean for our relationship, but I figured we’d just have a long distance romance for a while. Frankly, I was feeling pretty insecure about my ability to even get into any of these schools.

  “You’re always getting distracted.”

  “Yeah, well....” I rummaged through my sock drawer.

  “I honestly can’t believe you’re not ready Kate. You didn’t even work today. I swear you’re the most disorganized person I’ve ever met.”

  Annoyed, I pictured Ben’s blue duffel bag in my mind, the one he always brought with him for the weekend, so tidy with all his clothes neatly folded inside.

  “Fuck off,” I said casually.

  “And you’re always telling me to fuck off!”

  “You should take it as a compliment,” I said, closing my sock drawer. “I once read somewhere that it’s a good sign in a relationship when you feel comfortable enough to regularly tell the other person to fuck off.”

  “Yeah, right,” Ben laughed. “You must be incredibly comfortable with me then!”

  “Shall I bring these?” I asked, purposefully changing the subject and holding up some black crotch-less panties he’d bought me a few weeks ago. This was Ben’s recent obsession—buying me lingerie. I couldn’t believe some of the stuff he’d bought. I’m no prude, but I had certainly never owned a pair of crotch-less panties before.

  His eyes focused on the underwear. I saw the shift in his senses as his mouth opened slightly, and he unconsciously licked his lips. “Uh yeah, definitely. And make sure you bring all the other black lace stuff too, especially that bra I like.”

  That bra he liked was a half cup model, meaning that my breasts were almost completely exposed when I wore it. It was surprisingly dirty. Until he bought me all this stuff, I never knew he was so turned on by it. I’ll never forget the expression on his face when I first put the panties and bra on together for him. It’s like he could barely speak he was so aroused. Apparently I was fulfilling all kinds of fantasies, not that I minded. In a way it was kind of sweet. Ben was sharing fantasies with me that he’d never shared with anyone. He kept asking me what my fantasies were, telling me that he’d do whatever I wanted, but I was never sure what to say. It was embarrassing to admit, but my fantasies were pretty tame compared to his. Who would have guessed that Ben had such a rich imagination?

  I stuffed all the lingerie in my bag. “Oh, I still need to get my things from the bathroom,” I said, getting up off
the floor. “I’ll be right back.”

  Ben stared at his watch. “If we don’t leave right now we’re going to hit rush hour traffic, it’s going to take forever to get there.”

  “I’m almost ready,” I called over my shoulder as I walked down the hall and into the bathroom. I opened my cosmetic bag and threw some makeup inside. I honestly didn’t know what the big deal was—so what if we had to sit in a bit of traffic? Ben got irritated about the strangest stuff. Instead of focusing on going away for a fun weekend, all he could think about was sticking to some arbitrary schedule.

  “Okay,” I said a few minutes later after I came back into the bedroom. “I’m ready.”

  I followed him downstairs and climbed in the passenger side of his Jeep while he put my bag in the back. I was flipping through his CD collection, trying to decide what to play, when he came in and sat in the driver’s seat. I had to say that despite all of our different interests, Ben and I had nearly identical taste in music. I took the Red Hot Chili Pepper’s Blood Sugar Sex Magik out of its case and popped it into his CD player. Immediately the familiar opening from “The Power of Equality” began to fill his car.

  Ben glanced over at me and grinned. “Good choice.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as we headed down Queen Anne Hill towards the interstate.

  “I was just thinking about how we both like the same kind of music even though we’re so different in other ways.”

  “Yeah, it’s funny isn’t it? I guess we both have good taste.”

  I leaned back in the seat looking out the window, listening to the Red Hots. We’d been playing this album a lot lately and it had become “our” album.

  I switched from gazing out the window to watching Ben drive. He was a good driver—relaxed and in control behind the wheel. Occasionally I offered to take a shift, but he always turned me down, saying that he liked to drive and didn’t mind doing it all the time.

  I studied his hands and the way his fingers hugged the steering wheel. They were long and well-shaped with squared nails that he kept clean and cut short. They were so familiar that I’d gotten to know them as well as I know my own hands. I thought of all the pleasurable ways they touched me and realized in some ways they probably knew my body better than I did. I ran my gaze up to his shoulders which were probably my favorite part of him. I always teased Ben and told him that his cock was my favorite part of his body, but really it was his shoulders and back. He had broad shoulders and a beautifully muscled back. All that rock climbing sure had its pay offs. I thought of how things had been unfolding between us these past months and I felt relaxed when I was with him in a way that was entirely new for me. There was still all that sexual intensity, but I realized now that sex was just a starting place for something much deeper. “I Could Have Lied” came on. The music filled the small space as the lyrics seeped into me.

  I put my hand on Ben’s leg, wanting to touch him in some way. He immediately put his hand over mine.

  “Hey,” I said softly.

  “Hey.”

  “I love you.”

  Ben met my eyes. He was driving, so he couldn’t hold my gaze for long, but I could see that he was pleased. We’d been saying ‘I love you’ a lot to each other. He gently squeezed my hand.

  “I love you too, Kate.”

  Ben continued to drive, holding my hand, and I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes. I thought of all those college applications I’d been filling out lately, but then decided I didn’t want to dwell on them and what they implied for my future. I was here with Ben and, for right now, that was good enough for me.

  ***

  I woke up the next morning to the sound of water running and wondered why on earth Ben was in the shower, instead of having raunchy early morning sex with me, but then I remembered.

  I’d agreed to go hiking with him today.

  Ugh.

  I groaned and rolled over on my side, grabbing a pillow to muffle out the sounds of his shower. Why did I ever agree to go on a hike? He’d been clever enough to catch me during a weak moment, post-coital glow and all, and so, yes, like an idiot, I’d agreed to go.

  I had gone hiking with Ben one other time and it was a complete and utter disaster, mostly because I’d been hung-over. He’d shown up at my house early one Sunday morning and dragged me out of bed in that stubborn relentless way of his and forced me to go on a trail with him. I kept telling him—I have a hangover, I drank too much, I feel sick—but he didn’t get it. Ben had never experienced a hangover in his entire freakishly straight, disgustingly healthy life. He thought I was being lazy. Well, you can guess what happened. About a third of the way into the hike I threw up, and let me tell you, it was not pretty. Afterward I laid flat on the ground, staring at the sky as I begged the clouds to stop spinning.

  “You don’t look so good,” he said, standing over me.

  “No shit, you bastard! Why did you drag me out here?”

  “Hey, don’t get pissed at me. Why on earth would you drink so much that it’d make you sick?”

  “I don’t know,” I moaned, “because I’m stupid, because it seemed like a good idea at the time, because it was fun until I woke up this morning and some Neanderthal asshole dragged me out of my bed.”

  “Here, sit up and have some water.”

  I sat up and gulped water as fast I could and then handed it back it to him, laying my head down on the ground again.

  “Take me home Ben,” I said. “Please.”

  And that’s exactly what he did. He carried me piggy back style all the way down to his jeep, which was pretty nice of him, although I think he did it partly because he felt guilty.

  And now here I am again, about to go on another tortuous hike, although at least this time I’m not hung-over. I heard the shower turn off and a few minutes later Ben came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.

  “Good, you’re up. Why don’t you take a shower while I make us some breakfast?”

  “I have a better idea,’ I said softly, letting the sheets slip down so my breasts spilled out. “Why don’t you come back to bed for a little while?”

  Ben stopped and stared at my open invitation and I thought—yes, I’ve got him! But then he did something I’ve never seen him do before. He closed his eyes and turned his head away. “No way, Kate. Come on, you said you’d go today.”

  I pulled the sheet back up and sighed loudly. “Do I really have to?”

  He came over and sat beside me. “It’ll be fun—I promise. And it won’t be at all like last time. It feels great to get outside early in the morning. Plus it’s really good for you too, you’ll see. You might even like it.”

  “I don’t like things that are good for me.”

  He chuckled. “Don’t you think I’m good for you?”

  “Yeah,” I grumbled and leaned against him in a resigned way. “I suppose you are.”

  ***

  We started our hike and at first it wasn’t so bad—definitely better than last time. Ben was right, in that it felt good to be outside in the morning air. Walking through the woods, I thought the light was amazing, and kept noticing how the sun dappled through the trees, changing color. I’ve never been into painting nature scenes, but for the first time I understood how someone might be drawn to it. There were a few times when I found myself standing completely still, mesmerized by all the shades of green.

  The problem was that I kept losing Ben. He’d wait for me, but then he’d get antsy and tell me he was going to walk up a little further, but then he’d get so far ahead of me that I’d have to run to catch up with him. I finally complained and told him to slow down.

  “This isn’t a race, is it?”

  “What?” He looked surprised. “Sorry. I got so lost in my thoughts I didn’t even realize how fast I was going. I’ll slow down.”

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Nothing. Everything.”

  “It’s okay, you don�
�t have to tell me.”

  He smiled, but didn’t say anything further, remaining enigmatically silent.

  We continued hiking for a couple more hours, eventually leaving the woods behind us as we moved into a clearing where the trail grew steeper. The sun was high above us now, and as we trudged along I had to admit I was bored, not to mention tired of walking. I was beginning to feel like I’d joined the army or something. So far we’d only taken one short break where we’d sat on a fallen log, eating these energy bars that tasted like a mixture of sawdust and dung. I tried talking to Ben as we walked, hoping some conversation would liven things up, but it was too hard, since I kept getting winded. At some point Ben must have sensed the mutinous feeling building in me because he turned and asked how I was doing.

  “I’m tired,” I said. “Can’t we take another break?”

  “Do you see that bend in the trail right up there?” He pointed to where the trail forked. One of the paths led straight up a steep and rocky part of the hill we’d been climbing. “Right at the top of that crag are some of the best views of the entire valley. Do you think you could make it up there?”

  I studied it. “It’s awfully steep.”

  “I know, but it’s not as bad as it looks and it’s only a short climb. I’ll help you as much as I can.”

  “Okay, let’s do it.” I mean, what else could I say? We’d come all this way and he’d obviously be disappointed if I told him I’d just as soon stop now.

  We climbed together with Ben giving instructions and telling me where to put my hands and feet. I knew this was small potatoes for him, but this was by the far the steepest thing I’d ever attempted to climb in my life. I did everything he told me to and concentrated on moving upward, never checking to see how much further I had to go, nor looking down as I was too nervous about falling. Eventually we made it to the top and I flopped down on the ground to catch my breath.