Page 27 of Becoming Ben

We plan lunch first, and Trey takes me to a little place in a strip mall that I’ve never heard of. Dar Marrakech looks dated, and the sign’s deep, burnt-orange lettering is peeling a little, but when we step inside, the scents of meat, spices, and fresh bread hit me, and my mouth immediately begins to water.

We order several dishes both because Trey clearly wants them all when we are reading the menu and because I haven’t tried most of the things they have on offer.

We share the food and try some of each, with the chicken lula quickly soaring to the top of my list. “Oh my god, this place issogood,” I say enthusiastically, which makes Trey smile.

“It really is,” Trey agrees. “It’s also a great cheap lunch spot. I don’t eat out much, but I really love the food here.”

I pop into the hardware store once we are finished with lunch, while Trey opts to stay in my truck, and then we’re off to the grocery store for our final errand.

Inside the grocery store, we walk and talk close together. I am very aware of him and how close he is, and I want to take his hand, but we haven’t discussed PDA or hand-holding in public, and it feels presumptive to do it spur-of-the-moment. The distance between us, his big hands when he reaches for something to put into the cart, and the desire to just reach over and grab it consumes me slowly.

I have almost worked myself up to asking when I feel his fingers slip between mine, entwining just the way I was wishing for. I look at his face, and he is smiling slightly sheepishly.

“Okay?” he asks, and the smile that breaks across my face must be blinding. He squeezes my hand, and I press him against the canned veggies, kissing him briefly but passionately.

“Wow,” he whispers when I back away.

I smile at him and take his hand again, wearing what I know has to be a big, goofy smile. I don’t care in the least. I feel happiness in my chest, fizzing like sparkling water in a crystal glass.He wants to show me off, I think giddily. That works for me because I want to shout about our relationship from the rooftops.

No, from the mountaintops.

We collect everything on my shopping list, plus a couple of extra things because it’s no fun without a couple of impulse purchases, and we head for the checkout, still holding hands. I spot a woman named Holly, the mother of one of Mandy’s roommates from her first year in the dorms. We aren’t friends, but Sherri and I met her at the dorms. I cannot recall her last name, but I smile at her in recognition when we get in line behind her.

She gives us a double-take, then looks at Trey, who shifts slightly, putting more space between us. I squeeze his hand and tug him back in.

“Ben,” she says, her voice sweet. “Who is this?”

I smile wider. “This is Trey,” I say, stopping short of calling him my boyfriend because we haven’t talked about titles. I make a mental note to remedy that oversight the first chance I get. I mean, yes, we’re holding hands in public, but–

Holly raises her eyebrows at me. “Is he afriend?” she asks.

I smile brightly into Trey’s eyes. “Yes,” I say. “A special friend.”

Holly rolls her eyes and says, “It’s nice to meet you,” to Trey, in a tone of voice that implies it’s anything but. She turns away from us, and I hear her mutter, “Fags.”

I think about calling her on it just because it was so rude. It would have cost her nothing to just keep her mouth shut. It’s just not worth the energy, though, and I don’t want to ruin the great day we’re having. I go ahead and unload our shopping cart. She doesn’t deserve a response, and I know it won’t actually change her mind anyway.

Trey is quiet while we drive back to the house and put the groceries away. I get a chicken into the oven to roast for dinner while he drifts around, tidying up.

When dinner is cooking, and the kitchen is tidied, I slip up behind him and slide my arms around his waist. “Trey?”

He makes an inquiring noise, leaning back into me, his big hands landing on top of mine to hold them in place.

“You’re quiet. Something on your mind?”

I feel his muscles shift, tensing, and then he relaxes again. “No, Ben, no. It’s not important.” He turns in the circle of my arms and kisses me, his hand cradling the back of my head, and I don’t think about anything else until the timer for our dinner goes off.

***

The next day, Trey is working his internship, and I have back-to-back Zoom meetings with a number of clients. I start the day thinking it would be a toss-up to see who was finished with their workday first, but my second, third, and fourth meetings all run at least twenty minutes over the allotted time, and it's clear that I will be burning the midnight oil – or at least the mid-evening oil.

I am on my second-to-last meeting, and we are chatting as my client, Grant, sorts through some paperwork in search of documentation that I need. We’ve worked together for a long time and usually catch up a little when we have a meeting.

“Do you have anything happening for the weekend?” he asks. “I’m taking the wife out on the boat. She’s finally over the morning sickness, and I want to enjoy it being just the two of us as much as possible.” Grant’s wife is much younger than him. I believe she’s from Thailand. I’m glad I’m not the one starting a family in my fifties.

“That’s a good idea. Spending time together is important, and you’re not going to have the chance once your bundle arrives. They take upa lotof your time, and your wife is going to be completely exhausted for approximately the next five to ten years.” I chuckle, but I’m only half joking.

Grant laughs. “Ten years? Don’t they start sleeping through the night when they’re four months old?”

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