Page 17 of Something Like Summer
Tim shrugged, slippingfurther down into the tub. “I guess I should have, but it justseems pointless right now. The pain killers pretty much kill my sexdrive, you know.”
Ben didn’t know, but now hecould safely assume that Tim wasn’t hoping to initiate somethingwith his weird choice of social setting. Such a shame. It wouldhave been a scene right out of those magazine stories. The straightguy starts talking about his girlfriend and gets aroused,eventually turning to the only other warm body around…
“She never puts outanyway,” Tim continued. “She’s a real cock tease.”
Ben swallowed a laugh,Tim’s line fitting the fantasy all too well.
“That sucks. You’llprobably score major sympathy points, though, when she sees youinjured.”
“Hey, yeah! You’re right!”A lazy smile came over Tim’s face as he considered theidea.
Ben cursed his mouth andbrain for conspiring against him. Soon after he was sent upstairsto fetch a new outfit for Tim, which was fun and only helped tofurther the feeling that they were a young married couple. Was Timat all aware how this felt for him? Did he care, or was all thisjust a blur of opium-induced numbness for him?
As the afternoon faded intoevening, the pressure outside finally peaked and exploded. The skyopened with a grumble of thunder and a hammering of rain. Theykilled the air conditioner and opened the windows, enjoying therhythmic sound of water pummeling the leaves outside.
Ben busied himself in thekitchen, attempting to make a simple dinner of spaghetti andmeatballs. He had gone over the process a dozen times with his mom,who was becoming increasingly puzzled at his sudden interest incooking.
The pasta sauce wasn’t aproblem, since it came from the supermarket in a jar. The meatballswere trickier since the meat wasn’t fully defrosted. Ben sculptedthem into balls as best as he could, his hands stinging from thecold. Timing was something he hadn’t considered before he started.The pasta was finished boiling before he had even started fryingmeatballs or warming up the sauce. He took the pasta off the heatbut left it in the water in the hopes of keeping itmoist.
After an hour of effort, heended up with pasta that was much too soggy and meatballs that wereslightly burnt on the outside but barely cooked on the inside.Because he couldn’t mess up the sauce, and as he had done with hispancakes, he used a generous amount of it paired with Parmesancheese to help cover up his mistakes.
Ben set the dining roomtable, but abruptly changed his mind, feeling it revealed tooblatantly his domestic fantasies. That and the result of his laborsdidn’t seem worthy of such a formal presentation. He brought theplates into the den instead and placed them on the coffee table.MTV serenaded them in the background as they began theirmeal.
Tim reacted to the foodlike a ravenous stray dog. He tore into it at a speed that promisedhe wouldn’t be tasting very much of anything, much to Ben’s relief.They were halfway through their meal when the power went off. Avehement snarl of thunder followed the sudden silence, the stormproclaiming its role in the outage. There were a few minutes ofscrambling in the dim light until matches and candles were foundand lit.
“Romantic,” Tim joked asthey resumed eating.
“Isn’t it?” Ben tried tochuckle casually.
“It’s funny. It’s likefate has some crazy plan in mind for us. You running into me thatday and dragging me to the hospital. Then you take care of me, doall the stuff you’ve been doing, and now this.” He gestured to thenearly empty plates in front of them. “Dining in candlelight. It’sso close.”
“What do youmean?”
“Well, you know. If youwere a girl it would be perfect.”
Ben raised his head to makeeye contact, and for one electrical moment, Tim looked at him as ifhe were just that. Then the amorous expression was replaced by oneof confusion followed by a few sniffs. “Is somethingburning?”
Ben sniffed a couple oftimes himself. “Shit! The garlic bread!” He darted into the kitchenor at least intended to. With the lights out he ran into a numberof walls, probably dislodging a multitude of crucifixes. Eventuallyhe spotted a glow that revealed itself to be the smoldering remainsof the bread loaf. He felt around for oven mitts, took the pan fromthe oven, and tossed the charred bread into the sink, running waterover it for good measure.
With the emergency over,Ben leaned against the kitchen counter and took a deep breath. Ifonly he were a girl, huh? On one hand Tim’s words meant that he wasthe wrong gender and didn’t stand a chance in hell. On the otherthey also said, with a few physical differences aside, that Ben waseverything that Tim was looking for in a guy. Girl.Whatever.
* * * * *
The lawnmower sputtered andchugged, running off fumes now. Ben eyed the three remaining stripsof grass yet to be mowed and hoped he could finish without havingto refill the tank. He broke into a run, pushing the mower ahead ofhim with all his strength. A few strenuous moments later and thelawnmower gave one final protesting cough before dying just secondsafter the last blades of grass had been sheared.
Ben smiled in satisfactionas he surveyed his work. The yard didn’t look perfect, but then itnever did. As he cast his eye over the lawn, a movement drew hisattention to the house where his mother stood in the window. Shewas peering at him intently as she had been all day, treating Benwith suspicion ever since he had come home this morning. She hadassigned him an unmerciful number of chores and regularly checkedon him as he worked, as if to catch him doing drugs or whateverelse she suspected. Once the mower was put away, he stepped intothe kitchen which connected to the garage.
“All done then?” hismother asked as she handed him a glass of Kool-Aid.
“Yeah, with everything,”Ben gasped after chugging the drink. “I’m going to take a showernow.”
“Afterwards you can helpme make dinner, since you’ve been so interested in cookinglately.”
“Yeah, allright.”
Ben took his time in theshower, since it was apparently the only time he would get any resttoday. Some way to spend a Sunday! After he relieved himselfsexually, he stood tranquilly under the stream of hot water forwhat felt like half an hour. Eventually he reluctantly turned offthe water and stepped out. Wiping the steam from the bathroommirror, he eyed himself as he dried off, wondering all the whilewhat Tim would think of his body. Was it good that Ben was soslender because it was more like a girl? Or would it be better ifhe had muscles that could compete with Tim’s?
Once he was downstairsagain, his mother switched off her usual decorating TV program andhustled him into the kitchen.
