Page 73 of Storm in a Teacup
“Huh?”
“I don’t do penis in vagina because of pregnancy. It’s a simple reason, but it’s the most effective way to keep from getting pregnant. I’ve been trying to get an IUD, but the NHS waiting list is atrocious, and I don’t really want to pay for private care, so…it’s easier to just not. I can’t get pregnant.”
“I understand. Thank you for telling me.”
I gather my clothing from the floor, glad he did not inquire further. However, I suspect he knows my reasoning goes beyond simple preference. “I like being honest with you.”
Whenever I’m with him, I’m in the safest place in the world.
He bends with me, fetching my underwear before I can grab it myself and holding it out to me, looped around one finger. I snatch it from his hand.
“If we’re being honest, I recently learned that I rather like penetration.”
I snort, surprised by what just came out of his mouth. “Oh yeah? I assume we’re talking about you being the penetrate-e?”
“Indeed, we are.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me, then swivels out of the bathroom, leaving me alone to get redressed.
I wasn’t expecting this tonight, but really, I wasn’t expecting Ben at all. When I sat down next to him all those months ago, I was not expecting him to become someone to me. But I am so incredibly glad he has. However, now that he has, I am terrified to lose him too. I refuse to add him to my list of losses.
When I exit the bathroom fully clothed and meet him in his living room, I direct my gaze to the back garden. “Should we clean up?”
“You don’t have to help.”
“I’d like to.”
He agrees, grabbing a broom and two pairs of thick work gloves from the kitchen.
I take one pair of gloves and ask, “Why do you have these?”
As he pulls on the other pair, he answers, “I convinced myself I was going to garden. I bought all the things I needed to build one back here, but I never did. Maybe I’ll get it going before next spring.”
We go back outside. I crouch down to start grabbing at some of the bigger pieces of ceramic, throwing them into the box we brought from the store.
“Why a garden?”
Ben starts to sweep. “Rachel’s brother has a garden, and he seems like a happy guy. I thought it would make me happy.”
“Baking makes you happy,” I comment.
“It does. Maybe chickens would be a better idea. Then I could use the eggs.”
“Maybe,” I agree while trying not to make a face.
He stops sweeping. “What?”
“Chickens freak me out. They’re little, mean, cannibalistic dinosaurs.”
He laughs loudly as he keeps sweeping. “If I got chickens, would you never come over here again?”
I seriously consider this. “I enjoy your company more than I hate the company of chickens, I suppose.”
“I enjoy your company more than I enjoy the company of chickens,” he says in return.
I smile to myself. “Thanks.”
We finish cleaning up the broken teacups, filling the box with all the shattered bits and dust.
“I’ll dispose of that in a proper way tomorrow,” Ben says, pulling off his gloves. “Gloves,” he says to me.
