Benji and the Wireman

by Charlie Winters

  “I want him to take a lot of them. He’s been too scared before, but now he has you. Promise me you will take him, even if he fights you. He’s going to fight you because that’s what Benji does. Love him to the ends of the earth. And if you two really are just friends, well, sorry if this letter scared the shit out of you just now.” Jesse broke out into a fit of laughter as I stared at him, a few tears streaming down my face. He finally caught his breath, cleared his throat, wiped a tear from my eye and finished with, “Um… Love, Anna.”

  Jesse folded the envelope and let out another short laugh.

  “Sorry,” he replied, somewhat apologetic. “I… it was funny.”

  I wiped a few errant tears from my face and grinned up at him. “It was funny. She’s… I mean, she was funny.”

  Jesse clasped my shaking hands and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. “Will you read me yours?”

  Twenty-Four.

  Jesse

  Ben stared down at the letter, clutching it with white knuckles. He did eventually glance back up at me, a small smile adorning his lips.

  “Yes,” he said. “That’s what I came here to do. I can do this.”

  “You don’t have to,” I said. “If you aren’t ready, you don’t have to.”

  He nodded once. “I know, but I want to.”

  “Okay. Then I’m ready to hear it.”

  Ben’s hands shook around the paper, but eventually, he began to speak.

  “My dearest Benji,” he trembled. “I remember the day when your mom brought you home from the hospital. You were dressed in an orange and black striped jumper with a little pumpkin hat. We all thought you were so lucky to have been born on Halloween because that meant that every year, your birthday would be special. You could be anything or anyone you wanted on your unique day.

  “On your fourth birthday, you told us that you wanted to be a princess. That was a little hard on your dad at first because he was worried about what the other kids, and maybe even some of the parents, would say about that. But, I assured him that you were only four and that, you know what?—it was your birthday. You could be whatever you wanted. I made that princess dress and you wore it every chance you got until it nearly ripped at the seams.

  “There were times when your parents struggled a little bit, but they always understood you. They understood when you wanted to be a dancer instead of choosing to play sports like some of the other kids. Your father recorded every recital. He sat right there in the very front row and clapped until his hands were raw because you were his very favorite person.

  “Your mother did everything she could to draw you out. She sat at that kitchen table with you for hours cutting pictures out of those fashion magazines and gluing them into those collage books because she knew how much you liked to talk while you did it. Sometimes, you spent so much time alone; she was worried that you were forgetting who you were inside of that empty bedroom. The craft projects, the cooking, the ornate little cupcakes, the sewing, the shopping trips—all of that was for YOU. We all just wanted to get to know the boy who was so special to us. The boy who no one seemed to know but US.

  “I’m over the moon that you finally met someone else to let into your world, Benji. So, you have to promise me this. Let him IN. Show him your diaries you locked up tight from the rest of the world. Watch television with him and talk during the entire program so that neither of you know what is going on. Go to bed early, even if you aren’t tired. Take lots of walks. Hold hands in public. Don’t be afraid. Watch sunsets often. Drink coffee outside. Don’t let your life get away from you.

  “Don’t let HIM get away. Love him. Love him like it’s your last day. You never know when it will be. I’ve forgotten a lot in my life, but I will carve you and my family across my eyelids.” Ben breathed in a deep breath and let out a shuddering one, a single tear slipping down his cheek. “Forever, Benji. Love, Oma.”

  Ben folded the paper slowly and looked up at me warily.

  “You okay?” I asked, taking his hands in mine.

  He nodded and whispered, “I’m not afraid.”

  “Afraid of what?”

  “Afraid of what people will say. Oma is right, you know? I don’t want to be scared. And I don’t want to waste time just because I think it’s the normal thing to do. I… I can’t remember the last time I ever thought of myself as normal, you know? So, here’s the deal, Jess. I want to… I want to… you know, move in or… you move in or… whatever.”

  I swallowed thickly and stared at him. “Are you serious right now?”

  “Ohmigod,” he responded with an eye roll. “Don’t make me regret this.”

  Trying desperately to hold in my excitement, I tried to play it cool and went with, “Okay… um, sorry. That sounds great.”

  “How hard are you trying not to do that thing where you’re secretly freaking out, but you’re the actual cool one, so you have to act all non-phased or whatever?” Ben flicked his fingers in front of my face.

  Grabbing the front of his shirt, I pulled him close and pressed our lips together in desperation, kissing until Ben was the one who finally pulled away. His cheeks were flushed as he pressed a single finger over his lips with a hint of unease.

  “There are people,” he said shyly. “They can see us.”

  “I don’t care.” Cupping the sides of his face, I kissed him again, this time softer and chaste, pulling away after a few seconds. “Let them look.”

  Ben traced his finger through the sand slowly, taking a moment before answering. “Can we go back to your house for a while? My parents leave tomorrow and I just think that I’d like to spend a little more time with them before they go, you know?”

  I lifted his chin with my thumb and pressed a final kiss to his swollen lips. “The letter?”

  He shrugged, his gorgeous pale blonde hair whipping against the sides of his wind-burned cheeks. “Maybe. And maybe they’ve read theirs by now. Maybe we should all be together tonight. Make some popcorn or watch a movie?”

  “Like I said, I want to go wherever you’re going.”

  Twenty-Five.

  Jesse

  Ben watched intently, sighing often, as his parents packed their bags for Kansas. He and his mother had stayed up most of the night before, talking and looking through photographs while David snored from the sofa, the television blaring an old marathon of The Sopranos.

  Ben had climbed into the guest bed next to me and snuggled in tightly sometime around four. I’d held him close, pressing my nose against his long neck and breathing in the light scent of chlorine and clean, warm skin. He had seemed peaceful then, but now, as I watched him stare at his mother while she zipped her last bag and lifted it to her shoulder, he seemed out of sorts, gnawing on his thumbnail nervously.

  “Do you guys have to go?” he asked quietly. “It seems like you just got here.”

  Bridgette sighed and gave him an air kiss. “We’ll be back soon, Benji. And you’ll be fine. You’ve got a good guy here to take care of you.” She winked in my direction, but I could tell that her sadness reached down to her gut just like his did.

  I knew he wouldn’t miss Kansas, that much had been made clear to me by the numerous conversations I’d had with him about Topeka, but he would miss her and David greatly. I needed to make it my mission to follow through with Oma’s request, to make sure he had many adventures going forward. I needed him to open up and see the world with a new set of eyes.

  If I was being honest, I needed to see it too. I had spent too many years sitting back and waiting for something to happen in life. I had worked hard, but had never really taken any time for myself. I’d never had someone that I wanted to spend my life with. Now, I did.

  David dropped his bag and came close to sit next to Ben on the sofa. “You’ll be alright, bear. You’ve got a new life here and I can’t wait to see how it turns out.” He rubbed his palm over Ben’s stiff back in small, measured circles. “The next chapter is exciting, don’t you think?”

  Ben look
ed at his feet, rubbing one over the other and nodded. “Uh huh.” He was quiet, lifting his thumb to his lips again. He looked like a teenager in that moment, curling up into himself, but I knew the man that lingered beneath the maudlin surface. Ben was vibrant and free, even if his tear-streaked face wasn’t expressing that fact. I knew he would come around an hour after they had left; I had no doubt that my boyfriend was under there somewhere. I just needed to find him.

  “Hey,” I said, shaking a bag from behind the kitchen counter. “You want some popcorn? Got some of that low-cal crap you like.”

  Ben let out a small laugh and made eye contact with me for the first time in what seemed like an hour. He nodded and mouthed “thank you” at me before taking one last sigh through a wide grin.

  He was back.

  We made love most of the day, Ben stretched out lazily in my arms, trying every new position we could think of. Turned out, he was a fan of most of them, only coming up for air by the time dinner had rolled around.

  Relaxed and spent, he moved slowly around my kitchen, acclimating himself to his surroundings, opening every cabinet and using nearly every pot and pan I had before finally placing a plate in front of me that could have easily made its way into one of Ina’s cookbooks.

  The salmon I’d had in the freezer was now glazed and shiny, served on top of a bed of lemon-scented lentils with yet another sauce that looked and smelled amazing.

  “Wow,” I breathed, lowering my head for a quick whiff. “A guy could get used to this.”

  “I love your kitchen,” Ben said, closing his eyes before draping a napkin over his lap. He pushed his oversized glasses up onto the bridge of his nose, looking so fucking sexy that I was ready to forfeit dinner and toss him over my shoulder for another round. “And you have really good cookware for someone who doesn’t really cook, you know?”

  He started to babble about how much he had loved the refrigerator, the gas stove, the wood plank floors and how they’d felt beneath his toes—the sounds they had made when he walked over them. He’d swooned about the size of the house and the views and just about everything before I finally interrupted him.

  “Let’s sell your house.” I immediately regretted my words, even though I wanted nothing more than for him to wake up with me right there every morning and go to bed with me every night. “Unless, you know, you’d rather keep yours. I mean, the office is rarely used and your equipment would fit… the view is really good up there and you could look at the beach while you worked… although you probably don’t have time to look outside when you’re working or whatever… that was stupid. But—“

  “Okay,” he said softly, piercing a small bite of fish.

  I swallowed thickly, unsure of what he’d just agreed to. “Okay?”

  “Yeah.” Ben lowered his fork to his plate and smiled. “I told you I wanted to do this and I do. Of course, I’m probably going to take a bath on that house I just bought, but I love it here.” He glanced around at my open living area and outside at the pool with a sigh. “I’m happy here. I mean, we may need to replace that weird man sofa or whatever, but I feel really, really good. Don’t you?”

  I nodded, afraid to break our spell. Had he just agreed to move in? I knew he’d said he wasn’t afraid in a moment of weakness down at the beach, but I expected to have to work a lot harder than that to convince the ever-neurotic Ben to pack up his life and agree to share mine.

  “You hate the sofa?” I asked with a smile. “It’s as good as gone.”

  Ben breathed a sigh of relief and started to babble again. “Oh Jesus fuck, I am so happy you said that. It has fucking cup holders, Jess. Who told you that was okay? I mean, leather is one thing. It can be comfortable, I guess, but cup holders?” He shook his head and took another bite of his food, chewing noisily. “Uh uh. No, ma’am. And that chair with the side lever is just… no…”

  As I listened to Ben prattle on and on about changing essentially everything, I could not have cared less. I would have changed everything if it meant that I could see that face every day for the rest of our lives.

  Epilogue.

  Ben

  When I woke up that morning, I could smell bacon (likely burning) on the stove. Jesse was listening to some god-awful classic rock station, singing along to some song my dad would have appreciated. I rolled my eyes, but made my way downstairs to greet my weirdo.

  Jesse was wearing an apron and nothing else, the firm globes of his ass on full display as he danced awkwardly at the stove. He did not have the moves by any stretch of the imagination, but I appreciated the view, sliding up behind him with a firm smack to his right glute.

  “Hey,” he said sweetly. “Happy birthday!”

  “Ugh,” I protested. “Thirty-six may as well be forty-six. I feel old and weird and disgusting. And I have a gray hair.”

  Jesse smiled and turned to face me, a platter of pancakes balanced between his hands. He was still beyond terrible at pancake art, but had made an attempt at a plethora of different shapes, mostly Halloween-themed. There was a pumpkin (sort of), a mutilated cat, and a variety of (kinda-sorta) bats and pointy hats. The pumpkin was by far the most creative, even if he had to abbreviate the word ‘birthday’ down to ‘brthdy.’

  Good effort though.

  His dark hair was perfectly disheveled as was his beard, making it difficult to concentrate on the breakfast experiment he’d undertaken. I took in the shape of his arms, flexing obliviously as he lowered the dish to the center of the table.

  “Go put on some underwear,” I told him, noting the not-so-subtle soft bulge grazing the front of his white apron. “I can’t focus with that thing staring at me.”

  “Aww,” he returned, heading for the stairs. He called over his shoulder, “That was gift number two.”

  When he came back down, the apron was gone, replaced by a pair of black indecent briefs. Again, I stared at the bulge before moving up to focus on the light trail of hair covering his belly and chest. I would never tire of looking at Jesse Solomon, the most perfect man I’d ever seen… and somehow, he was mine.

  He sat down across from me and loaded up his plate, not bothering to use utensils, but instead ripping the head off of a crooked cat and smiling widely.

  “Why are you so happy?” I asked. “Me getting older bring you some sort of sick satisfaction?”

  “Nah,” he responded with another grin. “I just love you and I’m pumped that you’re mine.”

  I laughed at him, tossing a bite of pancake at his chest. “You’re pumped that I’m yours?”

  “Yep. And you can’t ruin this day, even if you have gray hair now.” Jesse leaned over to run his fingers through the strands. “I never noticed how much—“

  “Nope. Stop. If you want gift number two to happen, you can just end that sentence there.”

  He made a zipping motion across his mouth before leaning across the table for a kiss. It was short, but dirty, an obscene sucking sound emanating from our joined lips.

  “I have another surprise,” he said with a toothy smile.

  I glanced at Jesse’s chest again, hoping it was the one he had promised. He and I had become quite proficient at the whole sex thing, knowing exactly what the other wanted and taking the time to perfect our routine. He liked my mouth in the morning and I liked his after my bedtime shower. He would spend an hour sometimes just dragging the flat of his tongue over my rim, rotating between that and gently squeezing my dick until I came into his waiting mouth.

  Jesse cleared his throat and waved his hand in front of my face. “Hey,” he snapped. “Not that kind of surprise. Not yet.”

  I flushed with embarrassment at my tell-tale signs of arousal. I was sure that my face was flushed, not to mention the rock-hard evidence under my sleep shorts. “I wasn’t thinking—“

  “Yes you were and we’ll get to that,” he said with a wink. He got up from the table and came back with a flat box wrapped in a purple ribbon. He handed it to me with shaking fingers and said softly, “I h
ope you like it.”

  Inside was a homemade book—just like one of Oma’s—complete with the same purple ribbon braided down the spine. The cover was white with a sweet drawing in colored pencils of the two of us holding hands in front of what appeared to be the Eiffel Tower. Four words were written at the top.

  Benji and the Wireman.

  I stared up at Jesse while trying to keep my shit together. He smiled shyly and motioned for me to keep going.

  “One day, not so long ago, Benji made the long trip from Topeka, Kansas to the faraway land of Indian Harbour Beach, Florida.”

  There was a hand drawn map with small dots guiding the distance between our two locations. Instead of a final dot on each end indicating the cities, Jesse had placed a black star sticker over each one, just like my Oma had used in her stories.

  I turned the page and took a deep breath. The next page was a drawing of my pink house, complete with a turquoise door, even including the pink flamingo mailbox.

  “He moved into a pink palace, complete with a slippery green pool the color of jade one could only find in China. It even had pink toilets and seashell paper holders, making him feel like a king of all men!”

  The next page was a drawing of Oma, her wild hair sticking out in every direction, sitting by her window, a painted bunting perched on the ledge. Jesse had focused on every detail, down to the rainbow plumage and my Oma’s bright pink blushy cheeks.

  “Benji traveled all the way to help care for his favorite person, Princess Anna. She was eighty-eight years old and had seen more than he could ever imagine!”