Chapter 2: Ben’s House

I had to give Ben credit. We made it through his front door, and he held it together. After a little stumble and a little sniffle, we were inside.

“You’re doing well, Ben. Just sit here at the kitchen table while I go pee, and then we’ll talk.”

His house wasn’t tidy, but it wasn’t messy either. Just a little rumpled, you could say. The bathroom was clean, a big plus in my book. On my way back, I noticed Eddie’s dog bed on the floor in front of his television. Uh-oh.

“Ben, do you remember me, the big hungry girl? Where do you get your pizzas from?”

He pulled a familiar paper menu off the fridge door, and we worked out the details. Forty minutes.

“Iris, I’m going to visit the bathroom myself; I’ll be a few minutes.”

Then I had a chance to snoop around. Back in the living room, I found some family pictures on the wall. His parents, younger and then older; his older sister at a couple of ages and then with her husband; and of course Ben. I saw him at 10 (adorable), a high school formal photo, and then a more recent one which featured Eddie. I heard him step up behind me, smelling slightly of soap.

“That picture is from a year ago.”

“Eddie was very handsome. An Australian Shepherd?”

“Mostly, I guess. He was a mutt from a shelter; he weighed about 40 pounds.”

“That’s a great size. My Ellie was a Black Labrador mutt. She got up to 50 for a while until the vet told me to stop overfeeding her.”

“They are experts at manipulating us. I have more pictures of Eddie on my phone; would you like to see them?”

“I would, Ben, but I think we should eat first. Your TV looks pretty new. Do you know how to make it show a copy of your phone’s screen?”

“I never even considered doing that. Do you know the trick?”

“You’re about to learn that I’m a woman of many talents.”

I restrained my tone to only a little bit of innuendo. What Ben didn’t know (yet) was that I’d been celibate for quite a while. In different circumstances, I would have been more forward with him.

“Let’s sit on your couch and talk. Try to ignore the desperate rumblings of my stomach. I want to know more about you. Tell me about your parents.”

“My father worked in a factory as an engineer. Basically, he maintained and repaired their production machinery; it was a food processing business turning grain into breakfast cereal. My mother went to work as a teacher at a private school once I was old enough to be in school myself. As you can see, we had enough money to buy this house in a nice neighborhood and also to send both my sister Jenna and me to college. Jenna is three years older.”

He noticed me look away, slightly distracted.

“I’ll do the math for you: thirteen plus fourteen means I’m 27 years old, and my sister is 30. I don’t mean to be rude, Iris, but can I ask your age?”

“I’m 29, really 29. I’m not 33 and pretending to be younger.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t ask you the question I really wanted to ask.”

“Please, tell me.”

“Iris, what’s going on here? I’m upset about my dog, yes, but I’m getting back more of my manly composure. I’m not going to fall to pieces; I’m just going to be sad, and that’s understandable. You could go home; you don’t have to stay here, eat pizza, and endure a slideshow of my dog photos.”

“You’re right. I don’t have to be here. I want to be here. When you’re feeling better, I want to have fun with you. I want to take you out on dates and eat at restaurants and go to the movies and...”

He put his hand up. Oh, shit! Did I screw up?

“Hey, slow down! I think I gave you the wrong impression.”

That was deflating. I guess I did screw up.

“Just because I’m sad about Eddie doesn’t mean I’m not happy to be with you, Iris. There’s nothing I’d enjoy more than buying you dinner and all those other things.”

I looked up into his brown eyes and tried a smile.

“Really? I’m not being too pushy?”

“Pushy, yes, Iris. Too pushy? No. I really dislike people who aren’t open and honest about their feelings. Isn’t there a stereotype? A woman is giving a man the ‘silent treatment’ and he asks for an explanation, but she just gets angrier: ‘You should have figured it out by now.’ I think that’s rotten. I want to know your feelings; otherwise, I wouldn’t be asking.”

“Wow. First, I agree; I’m on the same page. Second, your description sounds like an emotional place you’ve lived in before; am I right?”

“Um, no comment.”

“What, I’m supposed to figure it out without your explanation? Ben, isn’t that what you just complained about? Sounds like sexism to me.”

He started laughing, which left me confused.

“It’s our first fight, and you won. And, you haven’t told me about yourself.”

“Let me see. I don’t have any siblings. I’ve never met my biological father; there’s a blank space for him on my birth certificate, and my mother has never explained. He must have been wealthy, because we seemed to be well supported even though she was a single mother. I have to assume there was some kind of agreement to keep the man’s identity a secret in exchange for money. Mom has always refused to speak about it.”