Fire Down Below

by Andrea Simonne

  “Going for your dream.”

  He picks up his glass and swirls it a moment before taking a swallow. “Damn right."

  “You already have paying clients?”

  He nods. “Two of them. We’re creating some specialized tools for them and obviously it’s important that we deliver.”

  “That’s great. I had no idea.”

  “I’ll be glad when next week is over. Also you’ll be pleased to know that I told Greg I thought that they should give you my job.”

  “That was nice. Although everyone knows we’re friends. Do you think it’ll make a difference?”

  “He knows I wouldn’t push for you merely because we’re friends.”

  I nod, but don’t say anything further. It’s strange, but I don’t feel all that motivated about the promotion anymore. I’m starting to think that I don’t even want it. I guess I’m already sick of all the hoops I have to jump through at work. Declan and I continue eating in silence for the rest of the meal, a companionable silence that doesn’t feel awkward in the least bit. Afterwards I try to clear up our plates, but he stops me.

  “Leave it.”

  “But I always clean up when someone cooks for me. Otherwise I’ll feel guilty.”

  “There’s no reason to feel guilty.”

  “Yes, there is. And I don’t want to feel guilty. I want to feel clean and purified and free of all sin.”

  “All right,” he laughs, putting his hands up. “Don’t let me stand in the way of your absolution.”

  Declan heads towards his corner desk and checks stuff on his computer, while I clean the kitchen. I still feel buzzed, though the food has helped take the edge off. After loading the dishwasher and putting the leftovers in the fridge, I wander over to him feeling uncertain. I’m not sure whether he wants me to leave, since it appears that he’s working.

  “Should I go?” I ask. “You seem busy.”

  He leans back in his chair. “No, stay. This is nice. Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

  Or something, I think, but obviously I can’t say that. It occurs to me that Suzy and Lauren may be right, and I might be developing a crush on Declan. It’s probably just the whiskey. “A movie sounds good.”

  He shuts down his computer and we head into the living room. Declan hands me the television remote and tells me to flip around the channels while he makes us some microwave popcorn. I sink into the couch, putting my feet up on the coffee table, getting comfortable. After some initial confusion I figure out how the remote works and start channel surfing on his big flat paneled television. The buttery smell from the popcorn is permeating the air and I feel ridiculously cozy. It’s like I could stay here forever.

  “Here,” Declan says coming over and handing me a can of cold coke. “No more liquor for you woman—I’m cutting you off.”

  I smile. “Thanks.”

  He flops beside me, putting the bowl of popcorn between us for easy access. “So do you see anything to our taste?”

  Declan and I both have a penchant for weird art house films that are extremely oblique and difficult to understand. They’re typically independent, usually foreign, and almost always horrible. It’s become something of a joke between us as in who can find the most obscure movies.

  “No, nothing.”

  “What about Sundance?”

  “Nope, they’re showing some sort of actor’s workshop.”

  After searching for a few minutes we decide to watch a movie on cable. The selections are all mainstream, but we both finally agree on a Diane Keaton movie called Because I Said So.

  “I like Diane Keaton,” Declan says, reaching for a handful of popcorn. “Did you ever see Annie Hall? That’s one of the best films ever made.”

  The movie turns out to be okay—very much a chick flick, but still watchable. At least Declan doesn’t mind that it’s a chick flick. I’ve dated guys who seem afraid of them. It’s like they’re worried they’ll turn gay. As the movie progresses we’re throwing out little comments about the characters and plot. Somewhere in the middle of the film Diane Keaton’s character, who is turning sixty, asks her daughter what it’s like to have an orgasm. Apparently she’s never had one because her ex-husband was so selfish in bed he didn’t care whether she climaxed. This strikes me as totally absurd. She’s sixty years old and it’s never occurred to her that she could give herself an orgasm?

  “My God,” I mutter. “Someone please buy this woman a vibrator.”

  “A vibrator.” Declan crunches on some popcorn. “Is that what you use?”

  I shrug. “Sometimes.”

  “Damn, I wouldn’t mind seeing that.”

  “What?” It suddenly occurs to me what we’re really talking about and I turn to look at him. He’s already grinning. I’m speechless for a second, but then grab a handful of popcorn and throw it in his face.

  “Hey!” He picks it off of his chest where it’s fallen and eats it, still giving me that gorgeous grin. It strikes me then how incredibly handsome he is. Where have I been that I’ve never noticed this before? Declan’s not handsome in a classic kind of way—a Ben kind of way—but I have to admit he’s...hot.

  “I don’t think we should be having this conversation,” I say smiling, but trying not to.

  “Why is that? I want to hear more about your vibrator. Do you give it a name?”

  “A name?”

  “Yeah, like Fred.”

  “Why on earth would I name it Fred?”

  “I don’t know. You have to name it something. Isn’t Fred a good name?”

  “Maybe I should name it Declan.”

  He’s stunned for a second and bursts out laughing. I honestly can’t believe I just said that. I could die of embarrassment, but it’s so funny that I start laughing too.

  “It’s not a pet,” I finally say. “I don’t have to name it.”

  “I don’t know.” He appears to ponder this. “I think Declan has a nice ring to it.”

  “Yes, it’s very nice,” I say, my voice droll. I glance over at him and when our eyes meet they catch. We’re both smiling, but the longer we gaze at each other the mood changes. I know I should make another joke, lighten things up, but I can’t find it within me. It’s like I want something from him, something that’s hard to name and I’m not even sure what it is, but I get the feeling he wants it too.

  He shakes his head slowly. “Kate.”

  The television is still blathering, the movie lost to us now. I pick up the bowl of popcorn and put it on the coffee table. When I turn back towards him, he’s still watching me. I move in closer.

  “Don’t start anything you don’t plan to finish,” he says quietly, the Irish in his voice strong.

  This stops me in my tracks. I think about the last time we were in a similar situation and the way I ended it. I feel embarrassed now. I’ve never been a tease or insincere and I would never want to hurt him or lead him on. What am I doing? This isn’t the reason I came here. Declan’s been a good friend to me and he deserves better.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t know what’s come over me.” I stare at the television for a while. When Declan doesn’t say anything I glance at him, thinking maybe he’s watching the movie, but he isn’t, he’s watching me. I don’t look away and we’re right back where we were. I have this intense desire to touch him and the thought of it is making my pulse race. But then I remember how this isn’t right. I’m involved with Ben and I don’t want to screw that up. “I have to go,” I say abruptly.

  He puts his head back on the couch, nodding.

  For a moment I don’t say anything. “Are you angry with me?”

  “No. I’m not angry with you. Don’t worry,” he smiles, “it’s all good.”

  “Okay, thanks for dinner.”

  “Anytime.”

  ***

  When I get back home, I’m relieved to find Ben sitting on my front porch. It’s pretty late and I’m surprised to see him.

  “How long have you been wai
ting here?” I ask.

  “Not long. I tried your cell and when you didn’t answer I figured I’d come over.”

  “Oh.” I forgot all about my phone. I keep it in my purse, but didn’t even hear it ring.

  “Where were you?”

  “A friend’s house.”

  He nods. “Listen, I don’t want to fight anymore.”

  “Me either.”

  “Good.” He seems relieved. “Let’s just forget about what happened last Sunday—okay?”

  I’m tempted to point out that he jumped to some awful conclusions about me, but then I think—who cares? What matters is that Ben is here now. He came back.

  “I missed you,” he says. “It’s been a long week without you.”

  Our eyes meet and I can’t hide my smile. “I missed you too. Do you want to come inside?”

  We get ready for bed, both of us slipping into our routine from years ago. Lying in each other’s arms, I think about all the stages couples go through and how Ben and I are going through them at a lightening pace. We’re already at the sweep-it-under-the-rug stage.

  Chapter Fourteen

  A few days later I wake up to the sound of Ben’s phone alarm going off at five in the morning. I never get up before seven, but Ben is already awake. He’s not in bed and I’m sure if I go out there I’ll find him in the living room doing jumping jacks and push-ups and probably pole vaulting over my couch.

  After taking a shower, I venture out hoping to discover a pot of fresh coffee brewing. Instead Ben is on the phone, nodding agreeably. He’s drinking a glass of his homemade swamp juice and smiles when he sees me. I’m feeling surly for having gotten up early, but manage to smile back.

  He hangs up the phone. “Good news. I’m allowed to bring a free guest with me to the Y.”

  “How nice.” Though I haven’t a clue as to what he’s talking about.

  “I think you’ll really like it. They have a great facility and it’s a lot less then what you’re paying for that overpriced gym downtown.”

  “What?” It suddenly dawns on me where he’s going with this. “You want me to go to the YMCA?”

  “Of course.” He motions towards the kitchen counter. “I made you a breakfast smoothie.”

  “Thanks,” I mutter, glancing over at the glass. Ben waits expectantly, so I get up and bring it over to my leopard chair. I tuck my legs beneath myself and take a small sip. It tastes awful. “I like my gym,” I finally say.

  “I know, but the Y is so much better. Plus we can go together, so I’ll be able to help you work on a few things.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  My fat gut and thunder thighs. I feel a flash of anger. Why can’t Ben accept me as I am? It’s not like I’m actually fat or anything. And even if I was, so what? Don’t I matter? But then my eyes wander over to him. He’s perfect. And this is the price for all that male perfection. The gym I go to downtown is sort of expensive, but it has everything—juice bar, espresso bar, free platters of fresh fruit, bagels, and muffins they put out every morning. The equipment is all clean and state of the art. I always feel so pampered. They have massage therapists, nutritionists, and hairstylists. They even offer cool classes like pole dancing and boxing for women. Not that I’ve ever taken any of those classes or used the services, mind you, but I like knowing they’re available. Plus the men that go there are all financially solvent. Of course this doesn’t matter now since I’m with Ben.

  I sigh. “Okay, I’ll go with you to the Y.”

  ***

  I haven’t been to a YMCA since my student days at Pratt, when I used to use the gym in Brooklyn. Pratt has its own athletic facilities, but I had friends who thought it was cooler to use the Y, so I’d tag along with them. I’m relieved to see the one Ben goes to is much nicer than what I remember from Brooklyn. It looks clean and fairly well maintained, though the snob in me notices there are no juice or espresso bars and definitely no free muffins. Ben shows me around a little so I know where things are, and then I agree to meet him after I put my bag away in the women’s locker room. It’s early in the morning and there are a lot of people about, most of them getting ready for work. I find an empty locker for my stuff, getting out my iPod and water bottle, before cramming everything else inside.

  For a few minutes I wander around lost, but then I find Ben in a large room full of treadmills talking to a couple of women. They’re both in their mid-forties, average looking, and a bit overweight.

  “Here she is.” Ben grins when I come over and stand next to him. “This is my girlfriend, Kate.”

  “Hello.” I give a small wave, smiling at the two of them. For some reason they’re both staring at me.

  “This is Linda and Juliet, two of my workout partners,” Ben says. “They keep me on my toes, let me tell you. I don’t know what I’d do without them.”

  “As if.” Linda is studying me. I notice she’s wearing a full face of makeup, in fact, they both are. “Ben doesn’t need any help from us as I’m sure you must know, being his girlfriend and all. We didn’t even know he had a girlfriend. What a surprise.” She playfully grabs Bens arm. “You’ve been a bad boy, holding out on us! And this is after we took you out for Chinese last week.”

  As he’s chuckling, I try to make sense of this situation. Ben had dinner with these women? I notice Juliet is not laughing though and is gawking at me as if I’ve just peed on her birthday cake. While I’m trying to figure things out, a third woman comes up to us. She’s about my age, has overly dyed blonde hair, and also has a full face of makeup. Believe me, I have no problem with lots of makeup, but at the gym? I feel underdressed. Who knew I needed eyeliner and lipstick to go workout at the YMCA?

  “Hey, you guys!” she says out of breath. “I’ve been stuck in traffic on the bridge for the last half hour. I tell you, it’s a zoo out there!” They all laugh like this is a really funny joke. I laugh politely with them. “I’m glad to see you waited and didn’t start without me.” She looks at me curiously.

  “Rochelle, this is Ben’s girlfriend Kate,” Linda says introducing me.

  An odd expression comes over her face. “Oh, hello.” She seems deflated somehow and again I’m not sure why I’m getting this strange reaction.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I say cheerfully, hoping to somehow convey that I’m a nice person, despite my lack of war paint.

  We all head over to some empty treadmill machines and Ben explains to me how the women try to put in a few miles, though he goes for at least five miles. The important thing, he explains, is that they try to keep each other motivated.

  “I see.” Though I really don’t see at all. I put the earbuds for my iPod in place, but Ben looks at me disapprovingly.

  “You’re going to listen to music?”

  “Of course, is there a problem?”

  “Well, like I said we try to keep each other motivated and you won’t be able to hear us if you’re wearing that.”

  “Oh, let the poor girl listen to her music,” Linda says.

  Rochelle nods. “Yes, we don’t mind.”

  Despite all this, Ben is clearly looking at me with an expression that indicates he does mind. “Uh, it’s okay,” I say. “I don’t have to wear them.”

  We all start on the treadmills together in a row with Ben in the middle, Rochelle on his right, me on his left, and then Linda and Juliet on the outside. It feels strange, since I typically work out alone. When Ben wanted me to come with him today this isn’t at all what I imagined.

  As the five of us are marching along together, Linda suddenly yells out, “Woo hoo! I’ve gone a quarter of a mile!” And the others chant, “Go Linda, go Linda, GO!” Then shortly after that Juliet bursts out that she’s gone a half a mile and they all chant again. “Go Juliet, go Juliet, GO!”

  As I’m looking around at everyone wide eyed in disbelief, Ben grins at me. “See how great this is? Aren’t you glad you didn’t use your iPod?”

  I nod, trying to smile. It’s like I’ve stumbled onto s
ome religious cult. I keep glancing at them wondering if they know how silly this is, but apparently not, because they all have serious expressions on their faces.

  As I’m trying not to laugh, Ben yells out, “Woo hoo! I’ve gone one mile!” And everyone starts in with the “Go Ben, go Ben, GO!” It’s difficult to believe that Ben does this on a regular basis. Admittedly he was always a dork, but come on. It’s just him and these three women? And they do this almost every day?

  I feel Ben’s eyes on me expectantly. I glance down at my treadmill distance. “I’m almost at a mile!” I yell out and everybody chants, “Go Kate, go Kate, GO!” With Ben chanting the loudest. I turn to him and he’s grinning at me with the zealous approval of a TV evangelist. And what can I say? I’m thrilled he’s so pleased with me.

  The five of us keep the yelling and chanting up for about forty-five minutes. By now Ben is running on the treadmill, though the rest of us are still walking. I’m relieved when it’s finally over. Not because I’m worn out, but because I feel ridiculous.

  After the treadmill Linda and Juliet say they’re heading off to work, but Rochelle and I follow Ben into the weight room. I usually use weight machines, but Ben wants me to switch to using free weights, claiming I’ll get better results. Apparently Rochelle is a convert and knows her way around the weights pretty well. I’m still trying to figure out her story. There’s something going on here, but I don’t know what it is.

  Ben grabs a couple of dumbbells for me and then helps me get started, watching my form in the mirror. It’s not bad, but harder than what I usually do. After I get the moves down he goes over to one of the weight benches and works on his own reps. Rochelle comes over to me.

  “Ben is quite a catch. You must be thrilled.”

  “I suppose.” I glance at her. It strikes me as a weird thing to say. Not that Ben isn’t a ‘catch,’ but it sounds calculated or something.