“Yeah, but you would be working…with Henry?” Ben asked again, trying to process this.
“No, not really,” she said, poking at her fish. “He’s an assistant curator in the museum. But we’ll be working in the same building. Aren’t you happy I got a job so fast?”
“Yeah, but…” Benedict found himself repeating, trying to find the right words to rationalize his thoughts. Could he say that he didn’t like it? He knew that whatever he said, Celia was going to fight back and do what she wanted anyway. “I wish you consulted with me before taking the job, you know? Seeing as I’m your husband…”
A look of irritation flashed across her face, and Ben knew he was in trouble. But it passed as soon as it came. She was trying to stay calm and not create a giant fuss. Celia never was into confrontations. She put down her spoon and her hands folded across her lap, like she had to say something really upsetting.
“Please don’t make me stay at home alone again,” she said in a deeply upset, earnest voice. He had never heard her beg that way before. “Ben, I…need to do something. I’m so alone! You’re at work every chance you get, which I think is great for you, but…I can’t stay home by myself and wait for you to maybe come home early in time for dinner. Hanging out with Henry is great, but when I come home to this big, empty apartment, it crushes me a little. Sometimes I think about how you’re with Vivian, and I just…I hate it. I’m homesick and I love you, and I need to work.”
His heart broke. He had no idea he was doing this to her, and the realization that he was the one who caused her pain crushed him even more. Ben strode across the table. He took his wife’s hands and kissed them. When he was younger, this kind of affection would have terrified him—he used to be so worried that girls would run away from him if he did one thing wrong. Sometimes he still thought that, but Celia didn’t flinch. She welcomed his affection, and he loved that about her.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he said, over and over again, nervously. His mind was reeling with the things he could say to make her feel better. It was what husbands do, right? “I didn’t…did you…do you want to have a baby?”
Her surprise hit him like lightning, shocking both of them out of their intimate posture like they had been zapped. Celia jerked her hands away and stood up, looking at him like he was an alien from another planet. Ben wanted badly not to have said what he just said.
“Ben that’s…oh my god. Having a kid isn’t some stopgap solution to your wife’s homesickness,” she sighed, running a hand through her hair. Evidently they both still had a lot to learn about marriage. She turned away from him, walking in a small circle around the space beside her chair in the dining room. It was her turn to walk up to him and kiss him on the forehead. “I won’t take the job if you don’t want to. I’ll find something else.”
“No, take it,” he insisted, looking at her. “You’re right, you can’t just hang around the house. You need a career, and I know how much you love the museum.”
“I do,” she said with a smile, squeezing his hand. “Thank you, labidabs.”
“Corny mo,” Ben pretended to roll his eyes, but let her kiss him anyway. Celia giggled and wrapped her arms around him, dinner quickly forgotten. The dishes could do themselves tomorrow. For now, he was going to spend the rest of the evening with his lovely wife. Tomorrow, he would finally book that Kinky Boots ticket. She deserved a night out on Broadway, and he wasn’t going to bail on her this time. As for Vivian…well. There wasn’t much he could do about that, right? Sure she called him a lot (oh look, she was calling him now), and they spent most of the waking hours of the day together, but that was just work.
Their relationship was strictly professional.
Ben looked down at his work, and found himself very dissatisfied. There was something about this particular piece that seemed a little off. The thing with having a television show about teenage werewolves was that it was a show about teenage werewolves. Anything he did looked like a cover of a bad romance novel. Maybe sharper fangs? Oh. No. Definitely not sharper fangs.
“Wow,” Vivian said, coming up behind him without so much as a jump of surprise from Ben. He was so used to her sneaking up to him like that. “That’s…I mean it looks…”
“Like the cover of a porno?”
“I was going for ‘erotic fiction,’ but yes,” she said, pulling up a chair to sit beside him. “Maybe not make them so…shiny? Technically, werewolves have long hair on their arms and face, they shouldn’t really be glistening like that. Have you ever seen a wolf glisten? They don’t. Plus, where do their shirts go? I’ve seen snippets of this show, and the amount of teenage boys without shirts is almost sinful. But hey. It works for MTV. And me.”
Ben groaned and closed the screen, twirling around his chair. For some reason, Vivian always knew how to push his buttons and make him stop working so hard on one thing. It was the curse of the perfectionist, if he was being modest. He supposed that was how they managed to make such great work, but sometimes it just felt a little too much.
Vivian could obviously sense his stress, because she placed her hands on his shoulders and squeezed a little. “Relax, Ben. Your deadline for this was moved back a little. You and I have bigger fish to fry.”
He peered up at her with curious eyes, his interest piqued. She grinned that Cheshire cat grin of hers, the one he was so familiar with already. It was the kind of grin she had for news. Whether it was good or bad, he would soon find out.
“Okay. Now…don’t go all nerdy—“
“Ahem. Geeky,” he corrected her. Nerd was completely, politically incorrect. She raised her eyebrow at him.
“Of course. Geeky. Don’t go all geeky on me, but I just got word from Hero—“
“Hero the one named after the Shakespeare character or the one named after the sandwich?” Ben asked, like the distinction was the most important part of the conversation. Vivian laughed and shook her head.
“Shakespeare,” she clarified, meaning she was talking about Hero Halpern, the owner of Tattooine Solutions and everyone’s boss’ boss. “She wants us to join the team heading up to California.”
“…so?” Ben asked. Various members of the staff were always being sent over to California. With so many of the distributors and production companies there, being sent to California wasn’t that strange of an occurrence. Vivian glared at him like she was surprised that he didn’t seem to understand. She gave him that look a lot.
“As in San Diego, California. Benedict…we’re going to Comic Con.”
Ben was sure a fuse in his brain exploded. Chills ran through his entire body, and he actually jumped up from his seat like a hero springing to action. The look of pure of joy on his face was directed at Vivian, who looked like she didn’t know whether she should laugh at him or get him a paper bag to breathe into.
“I…” he said, unable to get his words, his thoughts straight. He had always dreamed of going to Comic Con, catch a few panels, check out merchandise, but this…this was completely different. Vivian’s eyes grew wide. She was worried he would explode. But like a deflated balloon, Ben’s face quickly softened, his features dimming into a confused expression. “I…”
“I’m still expecting a bigger reaction…?” She said, her voice tapering as she anticipated his big reaction. She didn’t have to wait that long, though.
“I have to call Celia,” Ben said right away, grabbing his phone off the desk before he ran to the stairwell, the only place in the office with privacy and signal. Vivian watched him leave and rolled her eyes. Little boys always were a handful.
So to San Diego Comic Con Ben went. He called Celia constantly, so often that her co-workers at the museum gave her amused looks whenever her phone started ringing. He sent her photos of cool cosplayers, put her on speakerphone with David Tennant for the Doctor Who 50th Anniversary panel (she spent half the phone call screaming excitedly into Ben’s ear as he and David laughed it up like old pals) and had a life-sized R2-D2 shipped to their a
partment. She was just glad he was having so much fun. Just listening to the happiness in his voice, made her feel immensely proud of him. This was why she followed him to New York. But with her pride came a bit more loneliness too. She loved her job at the museum, and every day she found something new to see in the city. She had hoped that she would see it with Ben. It was better this way, though. Wasn’t it?
Henry was still a permanent fixture during her lunch breaks and breakfasts, but while Ben was at Comic Con, he joined her for dinner, too. He even introduced her to his girlfriend—a sweet but slightly vapid girl named Carolyn. Now this girl was one in a long string that Henry had dragged along with him, and Celia never met such an…interesting collection of characters as she did these girls. The word ‘airhead’ never meant anything to Celia until then. When things got really bad (Henry had a date that might have forgotten to wear underwear once), she threw Henry a look and started to speak Tagalog over the girl. She knew it was rude and unkind, but sometimes…sometimes she just had to put her foot down. Sure Carolyn was one of the better ones, but Celia knew her friend deserved much better than a leggy peroxide blonde with thick lips and no idea where to find the Philippines on a map.
They were eating in Carnegie Deli, Henry’s absolute favorite tourist-y food place in New York. Never mind all the signed celebrity photos on the wall. He came there for the massive Reuben Sandwiches and the horseradish (which even Ben had to admit, was pretty good). Celia was quick to join the meaty bandwagon, polishing off a roast beef sandwich after slathering it in horseradish, but Carolyn seemed content with her garden salad. They were talking about Ben and his obsession with comic books and superheroes. Henry had admitted that he still had his treasured DC tomes in his apartment, and had more than once expressed his jealousy over Ben meeting Robert Downey Jr.
“So Celia, is Ben like, your superhero?” Carolyn asked her over dinner the night R2-D2 arrived in Celia’s apartment.
“What do you mean?” Celia countered in slight confusion. “Oh…Carolyn. I think I forgot to mention that the conventions are for comic books and sci-fi, he’s not actually a superhero.”
It was a joke, of course, and Henry had laughed. Since he was Filipino, he definitely got the deprecating humor. It was part of them both. But blonde and leggy Carolyn from Armenia shot him a glare and he pretended to be choking on his plate of meat. Of course, Celia was sure she couldn’t tell what the joke was—even Henry admitted that her lack of smarts were the last thing he liked about her—but that didn’t stop Carolyn from giving her a rueful smile. Henry was going to get into a lot of trouble for Celia’s little joke tonight.
“But if we’re talking about superheroes, I have to give it up to Henry over there,” she said, pointing her fork at the guy across her seat. “Did he tell you how he saved me from a hobo when we first met?”
“Oh, really?” Carolyn asked, like it was the most interesting thing Celia had said all evening. She nodded.
“Yeah. Called the police and everything. After that…well, I couldn’t get rid of him,” she smiled over her coconut cake, giving Henry a little wink, which made him laugh.
Carolyn and Henry broke up that night. Being a dutiful friend, Henry had informed Celia first. Celia in turn told him how she wasn’t good enough for him anyway, how his mother would never approve of a bottle blonde and that Carolyn didn’t know what she was missing. Henry glumly told her that Celia was absolutely right, and called her his best friend. He thanked her for dinner and said goodnight, reminding her to be safe on her way to the airport.
Celia failed to notice that Henry didn’t tell her why he broke up with his four-date girlfriend. She was too busy dressing R2-D2 for Benedict’s homecoming that evening.
It had been a wonderful reunion at the airport. Celia had seen Vivian give Ben a kiss on the cheek before Celia could even greet him before she turned to make a quick escape into a cab. Since she hadn’t seen Ben for a long time, Celia bit back her comments on how rude Vivian was for not even saying hi. She instead focused on hugging her husband like she hadn’t seen him in forever. Ben pulled Celia into his arms, resisting the urge to spin her around like they did in the movies. Something about having her there felt like home. He kissed her, holding her tightly like she was the one who had gone away for a week.
“Miss me?” Celia asked, giggling as Ben hailed a cab.
“Maybe,” he answered, grinning before he kissed her again. Ben had a whole bar of white Toblerone for Celia, which was a much better present than the one she had waiting for him at home. He claimed he was just ready to crash into bed, so straight home they went. Celia kissed his cheek, and he smiled through his tired haze, the two of them giggling as she flipped the apartment light switches on. Ben’s eyes flew straight to poor R2, waiting for his master in Celia’s wedding gown, a sunflower taped to his front and a ‘welcome home’ note stuck beside the sunflower on a Post-it.
“Oh my god…what did you do to him?” Ben asked, running over to his precious toy, unable to believe it. He looked over at Celia for an explanation. She was laughing so hard, he was worried she was suffering an aneurism. “Why is R2-D2 wearing your wedding dress?”
“Because he loves the nightlife,” Celia pointed out, dragging his bags to the living room where she could start getting his dirty clothes washed. “Welcome home, again. Care for some sleep?”
“Yes please,” he said, smiling as he kissed Celia again. “Don’t forget, tomorrow. Kinky Boots.”
He said this firmly, using the last of his waking moments to remind her of a date she had been waiting for since they arrived in New York. Celia loved the idea of watching a show on Broadway, and catching a musical was one of the city’s main selling points for her. She and Henry had already seen Bullets Over Broadway, Wicked, Once, and Mamma Mia! together, and now she and Ben were finally going to see Kinky Boots.
“Just make sure you don’t bail on me,” she joked, kissing his cheek goodnight. Ben scoffed like it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.
“I just worked Comic Con,” he said. “I’m king of the office now, and none of them will dare take me away from my Khaleesi, my moon and stars.”
Celia simply laughed and pushed him into the bedroom. He must be tired.
Benedict threw his shirt off and collapsed into bed, his jet lag getting the best of him. She closed the bedroom door and came back into the living room, opening his luggage to get his dirty clothes in the wash. The idea of grabbing her husband’s dirty clothes out of a bag was still something a bit new to her, and Celia laughed at the idea that there was still some mystery in their relationship.
She was just about to start when his phone beeped with R2’s standard droid sounds on the coffee table. Normally she would just ignore it, but since Ben was alseep, she decided to pick it up and bring it to the bedroom. The phone, still lit up, let her know it was a text from Vivian.
“Had a great time last night. Thanks for ‘dinner.’ Love you.”
Celia’s eyes grew wide, and she threw the phone halfway across the room and right into poor R2.
It was a magical summer night to catch a musical on Broadway. The breeze was just a little cool, and since it was a weeknight, there weren’t as many freaks on the street as they thought there would be. This didn’t deter Ben in the least, as he had hoped he would see something crazy that night. His wife’s arm was draped around his as the bright lights of Times Square lit up in her eyes. It was nice to think that beneath the dirt and grime of New York, the lights were bright enough to still be beautiful.
Ben nudged his head towards one of the guys on the street, a man dressed up in leaves with a sign asking for money for weed. There was a cowboy on the intersection, stripped to just his underwear and his guitar. Various tourists were lapping it up, as the locals wondered what on earth they were doing there. They had just finished watching the last full show for Kinky Boots, and Ben was pleasantly surprised at how much he liked it. He still had some of the songs stuck in his head, an
d he was humming softly as they walked.
He knew that normally Celia would be talking a mile a minute about the show. Even when they were watching movies, she loved to talk over the dialogue (pausing the video if they were at home) and dissect why she loved a particular part, why she hated a character or plot point. It was the writer in her, and Ben loved having those discussions with her. When they started talking about Doctor Who, they could talk for days on end.
But for Kinky Boots, Celia was quiet, walking with him to the row of bleachers underneath a Coca-cola ad at the center of the square, giving them a full view of the vibrant ads of the city. There was barely a pocket of darkness in Times Square. Crowds were starting to fill the streets, the last shows for the other theaters had apparently just ended too. They sat and Celia leaned against his shoulder, watching the city like she was never going to see it again. Her melancholy freaked Ben out.
“Okay, this is weird,” he said, pulling away from her and looking her up and down. “You’re acting weird. Did you not like the show?”
“N-no, no I did,” she clarified, looking at him like she had just remembered he was right there. Celia felt sour bile shoot up her throat—how was she hungry again? “I just…oh god,” she suddenly buried her face in her hand, like she was completely ashamed of what she was about to say. She really, really hated confronting anyone about anything. “I saw your text.”
“My what?” Ben asked, confused.
“Your phone, Vivian’s text from last night,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “I tried not to be upset, I really, really tried. But I kept picturing you with her having ‘dinner,’ which I suppose is a euphemism for sex in San Diego. I wish this didn’t hurt and I wish you wouldn’t look at me like nothing’s wrong, because there is something wrong! Please tell me I’m being paranoid about this. Vivian isn’t…in love with you or anything, right? You probably just forgot that you had dinner with her last night, right?”
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