Fire Down Below

by Andrea Simonne

  He deflates and then lowers his voice when he speaks.

  “Listen Kate, do you want to see me again? You can tell me if you don’t. I’ll understand.” He looks so earnest and as he’s talking I find myself staring at his mouth. His lips are on the skinny side, but they’re well shaped with a strongly defined cupid’s bow. There’s a tingling sensation in my stomach as I remember all the wonderful things they used to do to me.

  “I do want to see you again,” I say, the words coming out before I can even stop them. “I’m not blowing you off.” I pause, feeling a silly embarrassment at my choice of phrasing. It occurs to me that I’m already slipping into that lust fog I always felt around Ben. “How about Friday night—do you have any plans?”

  He grins. “I do now.”

  I’m still holding my wallet, so I pull out one of my business cards and write my home phone number on the back. “Here, call me later in the week and we’ll figure things out.” I hand him the card.

  He takes it from me and before I know it he’s off to his meeting in Ballard and I’m walking back to my car in a daze.

  On the drive back to work, I think over all the things we talked about during our lunch. Ben told me that while he’s dated a fair amount, he’s only had one serious girlfriend since me. Her name was Lisa and she was a fellow geology student he lived with for three years in Boulder. Apparently they’d decided to get married, but he was working so much they never set a date. Eventually she got tired of waiting around for him and took a job with a research group down in Costa Rica. Shortly after that he saw an opening for a position in Seattle and decided to move back. Since he’s been here he hasn’t met anyone special. Listening to him, I couldn’t help wonder if he has commitment phobia—an affliction I’ve encountered in more than a few thirty-something single men. He also sounds like a workaholic. But then I remember how much he wanted to marry me all those years ago and I consider the notion that maybe our meeting was fated.

  Wouldn’t it be ironic, I think, if after all this time Ben really is the man I’m supposed to wind up with?

  ***

  When I get back to work it’s almost three o’clock. I check my cell and there are texts from both Lauren and Suzy, demanding that I tell them what happened at lunch. First I decide to go up and see Declan.

  I find him sitting at his computer when I tap lightly on his open door.

  “Can I come in?”

  Declan glances up. “Sure, I’m only solving global warming. I think I’ve almost got it figured out.”

  “Impressive.” I sink into one of his office chairs. “When you’re done with that maybe you could figure out why my hairspray is leaving all these little white flakes in my bangs.”

  “Slow down woman! I’m not a miracle worker.” He pushes his chair back. “You seem better. I presume your lunch with Ben wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be?”

  “It wasn’t bad at all.” I tell him about how well it went and that Ben and I still have chemistry, and how he obviously wants to see me again, but that I feel like I need to think things over.

  “I thought he was married.”

  “No.” I wave my hand. “It turns out that was all wrong. I guess every time he dates someone for more than a day, his mother tells everyone he’s engaged. Isn’t that crazy?”

  “So, you told him you wanted to take some time and think things over?”

  “Well, no,” I smile hesitantly, “I told him I’d go out with him again on Friday.” I almost describe the lust fog situation to Declan, but decide better of it. He has a peculiar expression on his face. “Is everything all right?”

  Declan turns towards his large office windows. “Yeah, I’ve got a lot on my mind right now. Sev called a little while ago and it doesn’t appear we’ll be able to get that space in Pioneer Square after all.”

  “I’m sorry. Surely you guys will find something else though. Gosh, I feel like an asshole. Here I am going on about my love life when you’ve obviously got a million things more important to think about right now. Do you want to cancel tonight? I’ll understand if you’re too busy.”

  Declan is quiet. “I’ll be there,” he finally says. “I have a soccer game that runs until about seven though—will that still work for you?”

  I nod, “That’s fine. I’ll see you tonight.”

  When I get back to my office I immediately call Lauren.

  “So,” she says. “How did it go?”

  “It went really, really, really well.”

  She squeals. “Was that two or three reallys I just heard?”

  “Three.”

  She squeals again. “Tell me everything!”

  I describe my lunch with Ben, being sure to mention how amazing he still looks and how he’s most definitely still single and that he seems more than a little interested in me. I tell her that it was really fun and that we still have great chemistry. I mention that I’ll be seeing him again on Friday.

  “Kate, that’s wonderful,” she breathes into the phone. “What an incredible coincidence that you ran into him after all this time. Don’t you think?”

  “I have to admit it is.”

  “How do you feel about what happened all those years ago though?”

  “I don’t know.” I sigh. “At one point he was so wistful about things it almost seemed like he was trying to apologize for what happened, but he didn’t come right out and say he was sorry.”

  “Maybe he didn’t want to bring it up yet. It was only a casual lunch, right? He probably didn’t want to open up any old wounds. Do you still have feelings for him? It sounds like you’re definitely still attracted to him.”

  “I do still have feeling for him. Despite everything, he’s that one guy I always wondered about—you know?”

  “Do you think you’ll sleep with him when you see him on Friday?”

  “I don’t know!” I chew on my thumbnail. The thought had occurred to me, but I didn’t know whether it was the smart thing to do or not. “What do you think? Does the fourth date rule apply to old boyfriends?”

  “Hmm, that’s a good question.” I picture Lauren mulling this over as she holds the phone to her ear, her blonde hair styled to messy perfection as she considers her decision with all the seriousness of a Supreme Court judge. Finally she speaks into the phone again. “Okay, here’s what I think. In a normal old boyfriend situation the rule doesn’t apply, but it’s been so long since you guys dated that I think in this situation it does apply.”

  “So I shouldn’t sleep with him?”

  “Probably not.”

  Even though I’ve never taken Lauren’s fourth date rule seriously, I find myself agreeing with her.

  “Okay,” I say. “You’re right. I won’t sleep with him.”

  “Good. If it’s meant to happen you’ll be seeing more of him, so there’s plenty of time.”

  After I hang up with Lauren, I dial Suzy’s number. I already know she’s not going to be anywhere near as enthusiastic as Lauren, which is the reason I called Lauren first.

  “You sound cheerful,” Suzy says to me. “Is this a thank God I never married that asshole type of cheerfulness, or a thank God I ran into him again cheerfulness?

  I laugh. “That second one.”

  “I gather it went well.”

  “It went well.” And I proceed to give Suzy the run down on Ben.

  She takes her time with her response. “I don’t know. He’s only had one serious girlfriend since you and even though he agreed to marry her, he wouldn’t commit? That doesn’t sound good.”

  “Maybe he wasn’t ready. I haven’t had that many serious relationships either. Besides that’s the opposite of what happened with us. I was the one who didn’t want to get married.”

  “Okay, but don’t rush into anything. He basically jumped ship on both of you and he took the coward’s way out.”

  “I hadn’t really thought of it like that.”

  “Here’s something else to think about. From what you told me he was
n’t supportive of you in the past. And the fact is people don’t usually change that much. I’m not saying it’s impossible and maybe he is different now. I hope so, but it’s something to keep in mind.”

  “I know you’re right.” I decide to change the subject. “How about you? Have you come to any decision about Luke?”

  “We went out for dinner last night and do you know what he told me? He said that he loves me and he believes we belong together and if I need more time then he’ll wait as long it takes.” She pauses and I can hear the shakiness in her voice. “Isn’t that incredible?”

  “He’s a good man.”

  “I think I need time to say goodbye to my old life—you know? I’ve gotten so used to having everything my own way. I travel wherever I feel like. I spend money on whatever I want. I know it’ll be different once I’m married.”

  “It will, but there will be so many other great things to take the place of those. Plus it’s not like you’ll lose your identity or something.”

  “That’s true.” I can hear someone talking in the background to Suzy. “Listen I have to go,” she says. “If I don’t talk to you before Friday have fun, but be careful too—okay? I know I probably sound overly harsh about this guy, but I care about you and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Chapter Nine

  When I get home from work that night I decide to set up my easel along with all the other supplies I’ll need to paint Declan. I usually create a few sketches of someone before I start a painting, but figure I’ll get everything set up, that way if inspiration strikes I’ll be ready. I’ve been thinking a lot about Declan’s portrait and have decided to paint him in a way that reflects his personality. Something more abstract than what I’ve painted in the past.

  I start rooting through my hall closet searching for drop cloths and blank canvases, when I see my old sketch books. All that talk at lunch today has made me curious. After flipping through a stack of them I find the one I used years ago to create the drawings of Ben.

  The cover is a little battered, but as far as I can tell the contents are still intact. Tentatively I begin exploring it one page at a time. It feels weird because it’s like a diary and I’m suddenly surrounded by the life I had over a decade ago. There are drawings and sketches of various friends and humorous cartoons of some of the places I used to frequent.

  My breath catches when I come to the first drawing of Ben. I feel my hands shake as I sink to the floor. It occurs to me that I haven’t seen these since our breakup. There’s a strange tightness in my chest as I stare at the Ben of my youth. His easy smile and perceptive eyes are gazing out at me as if no time has passed at all. His hair is long and tucked neatly behind his ear on one side and I drew him so you got a real sense of the nervous energy behind that laid-back grin. He’s only a black and white drawing, but he seems alive somehow and ready to step out from the paper and into my life again.

  I go through the rest of the sketches. There are more than I remember. Various poses, some of his profile, others of him standing or sitting. There’s an interesting one of his face looking pensively out at something in the distance. Not bad, I think as I examine my own handy work. When I get to the penis drawings I start to laugh. I didn’t just capture it on paper, but I drew it to life size proportions. How convenient! I sketched him with an erection that looks a bit over enthusiastic. But then don’t cocks always look that way? Over enthusiastic—just like their owners. As I’m busy measuring my hand against it, the doorbell rings.

  I answer it and find Declan standing there still wearing his soccer uniform, which for some reason takes me off guard.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he says in a rush, stepping inside. “Our game ran into overtime and I left as soon as I could. Do you mind if I use your shower? I won’t be long.”

  “That’s fine.” My eyes drift over Declan’s body. He’s wearing a sleeveless blue shirt and a pair of black and white style soccer shorts. “I’ll get you a towel. I still have to run out and pick up food anyway.”

  He follows me down the hall where I grab a towel out of the linen closet. I do a quick scan in the bathroom making sure there are no embarrassing items on display.

  “Here you are. There’s some shampoo and soap already in there.

  As I step aside, he walks past me and puts his gym bag down on the floor next to the tub and I get a whiff of him. Even though he’s sweaty it smells good. I find myself breathing in his scent which reminds me of something crisp and green like an apple.

  I start to leave, but then remember that I forgot to ask him what kind of Thai food he wants. When I turn back around Declan already has his shirt off and I stop and stare at him. I’ve never seen Declan without a shirt before and I had no idea he was in such great shape. He has a fair amount of light brown chest hair that tapers into a line running down his stomach straight into his shorts which is where my eyes become fixated. I hear laughter and when I look up Declan is watching me with an amused expression.

  “Are you checking me out, Kate?”

  “What? No! I mean, sort of. Oh God, I’m sorry!” I groan, feel like I’m going to die of embarrassment. “I never knew you had...uh, were...in such great shape.”

  “I work out here and there though mostly I try and keep busy.”

  “I see, well it’s really...uh, working.” Could I sound stupider? I can’t believe I’m getting this tongue tied.

  “Thanks. Did you know you’re blushing?”

  “I never blush,” I say, and then turn to look at myself in the mirror. To my surprise my face does look pink. I put my hands up to my cheeks. “Except in cases of extreme mortification.”

  He chuckles. “I didn’t know I was capable of having this sort of effect on you. I’ll have to remember to take my shirt off in front of you more often.”

  “Oh, stop.” I look over at him and he’s still grinning, obviously having fun. I lightly slap my pink cheeks a little. “All right, I’m going to leave this bathroom now before I make an even bigger fool of myself.”

  “Hey, wait!”

  I turn around, my hand on the door knob.

  “Don’t you want to stay and watch me take my shorts off?”

  “No!” I laugh.

  I shut the door behind me—what the heck just happened? Best not to examine it too closely. I once read that it’s not good lingering over moments where you felt bad or embarrassed because it creates a stronger neural pathway for those emotions, that it’s best to linger over times when you felt strong and proud, though at the moment I can’t seem to linger over anything but Declan’s shirtless torso. He looked pretty good in those soccer shorts too. I wonder what he looks like without them.

  Stop, I tell myself. Declan and I are friends. Plus I have this whole new situation with Ben to think about. My life has more than enough complications without introducing any new ones. The last thing I need is to develop a crush on Declan.

  I grab my car keys off the table and head out the door. It isn’t until I’m in my car with my cell phone in hand ready to speed dial the Thai restaurant that I realize I forgot to ask him what he wanted to eat. I try to think of what he likes and all I can remember is that he prefers some noodle dish and that he always gets extra peanut sauce. No way am I going back into that bathroom while he’s taking a shower, so I call and order three different noodle dishes, rice, and a side of peanut sauce. That should be good enough.

  On the way to the Thai place I stop at the grocery store, figuring I’ll pick up some dessert and beer for us. I head over to get Thai beer, but when I spy the bottled Guinness I decide to surprise Declan with a six pack of that, since I know he drinks the stuff as do all ‘real’ men, or so he’s informed me on more than one occasion.

  When I get back from picking up all the food and assorted goodies, I find Declan dressed and sitting on my living room couch with one of my sketch books on his lap. “Do you mind if I look through some of these? Your closet door was open and I saw them stacked inside.”

  “I
don’t mind.” I put the Thai food down on the dining room table and head into the kitchen with the rest of the stuff. As I’m putting the beer in the fridge I suddenly remember that sketch pad with the drawings of Ben, hoping Declan hasn’t been looking at those.

  I walk quickly over to where he’s at on the couch and scan the various pads that are stacked on my coffee table, but I don’t see the book with the drawings of Ben.

  “You’re an incredible artist, Kate. I had no idea you were this good. What on earth are you doing working as a web developer? Didn’t you once tell me you used to be an illustrator?”

  “Yeah, I worked as an illustrator for a while when I lived in New York.”

  “And what happened?” He looks up at me.

  I shrug. How do I explain to Declan that while, yes, I am a good artist, there are a thousand others just as good as I am and we were all vying for the same few jobs. “The competition was fierce. People say you need talent and luck to succeed as an artist, but as far as I could tell it was talent, luck, and having the right connections.”

  He nods. “That was New York. Have you considered artist jobs locally? Or maybe you should find a gallery. Don’t you have a friend that owns one?”

  “My friend Anthony co-owns the New Earth gallery downtown. He’s asked me a few times to get some paintings together, but I don’t have as many as I’d need for a show.” The truth is Anthony has been bugging me for years to come up with enough pieces, but I keep putting him off. I’d need at least a dozen paintings and the thought is overwhelming somehow, so I’ve never gotten around to it.

  I walk over and stand next to Declan as if I’m interested in what he’s looking at, but I’m really trying to find that sketch book with the penis drawings. As I’m straining my neck peering over Declan’s opposite shoulder he glances up at me.

  “Here,” he says, reaching down to hand me a drawing pad. “I believe this is what you’re after?”

  I smile sheepishly. “Oh, thanks.”