11. Ben
11
Ben
I n the week since our hike, I’ve thoroughly screwed my Google search history. I asked my computer questions I’d never even thought before last Sunday. I’ve learned the phrases "demi-sexual," "asexual," and "bi-awakening." I didn’t know there was so much I didn’t know. I feel a little embarrassed and stupid. How did I never know these things?
When I met Sherri, she was perfect for me, I thought. She was smart, pretty, driven, and everyone said we were a perfect match. I loved and admired her. It had been easy to coast along from first date, first kiss, a little fooling around, to rings and promises and “I do.” We didn’t have sex before our wedding. Sherri had been fed the ‘good girls wait’ bullshit when she was a teenager, and it certainly hadn’t occurred to me to press the issue. I had urges, of course, but when it came to the reality of it, I honestly didn’t see what all the fuss was about. We made love occasionally, and it was pleasant enough, but more often than not, I didn’t see the point. We could just as easily cuddle up on the sofa and watch TV with Mandy, or I could be working and making headway on the goals we set for ourselves.
When Sherri told me she needed more, I sort of understood. I had done enough internet research back then to understand that my “low” sex drive wasn’t “normal,” but I didn’t really worry about it. I just figured that her drive was higher than mine, that it meant more to her, and I wanted her to have what she needed. Seeing how she was with Mitch made me feel much better about it because I could see without even trying that the sexual connection they had wasn’t even in the same realm as her and I.
Meeting Trey at Sherri’s wedding has put me in a situation that I have no idea how to handle. I’ve never been so turned on that I had to go take care of myself immediately, but it’s happened. I had never spent almost an entire afternoon hard before, but I did on Sunday.
Over the work week, I’ve noticed that Trey seems to be spending less time with me, and that makes me wonder if he had noticed my problem on the hike. I’ve considered mentioning it several times, but I can’t make myself say it out loud. Instead, I’ve been trying to give him his space while maintaining a friendly demeanor. I don’t want to give him a reason to leave.
The Friday after our hike, Trey comes home from working at the shelter and tells me he’s heading back out to spend the evening with Mandy. I ask him to tell her I love her, and he smiles at me just like he did when he told me he had liked my sandwiches and enjoyed the hike, and every pleasure center I have lights up.
After another session of self-love the second he walks out the door, I know I need more advice than Google can give me, and I can only think of one person in the world who can help me with this.
I make the drive to Sherri’s house the following day. I text her first to make sure she’s home, and she tells me to come on up. She lives in a beautiful house with Mitch and a very, very fluffy Persian cat. Her architectural job provided more than enough money even before she met Mitch, who is a vascular ultrasound technician, and together, they’ve built a home that, while not large, is as close to a fairytale cottage as you can get without the overuse of mushroom decor. It’s located on a deep lot that backs a wooded area, and the long, tree-covered driveway only adds to the effect.
Sherri is waiting for me when I arrive, the cat in her arms. Fiona greets me with a head boop, so I pet her and give Sherri a peck on the cheek. “Thanks for letting me come,” I say.
“I’m happy to see you, Ben, you know that. And you got me curious. Your text made it sound serious. Also, it’s my day off. I just finished a contract for a client in Denver, and I’m due for some downtime.” She leads me into the kitchen, drops Fiona into a bed atop a cat tree in front of the window, and puts the kettle on the stove. “Okay, spill. Tell me what’s going on. Are you okay?”
I pull out one of the tall chairs at the kitchen island and sit down, tracing the edge of the countertop. Now that I’m here, I don’t know where to start, and I can feel myself blushing. “I’m okay, yeah, just confused. I– well, I feel a little like a creep for something that’s been happening, and I really don’t understand why it’s happening.”
Sherri smiles and cocks her eyebrow at me questioningly. “A creep? Ben, you’re the least creepy man I’ve ever met.”
I laugh shortly. “Thanks, but in this case, I’m not sure you’re right. You know Mandy’s friend Trey?”
Sherri nods. “Of course, Mandy’s dragged him to a couple of family things over the years, but I haven’t seen him since the wedding. Mandy said he’s staying at your house for the summer to save money for school.”
I nod. “Yeah, he is. He’s a really nice guy. He’s been there a month or so. We’ve hung out at home, had Mandy over for dinner, and went hiking. It’s great to have someone in the house, but since I met him– I don’t know what it is about him, but I can’t stop noticing him. He’s taller than I am, and he–” I stop, my face absolutely flaming at admitting all of this out loud.
Sherri is listening attentively. “He’s…” she says leadingly when I cradle my face in my hands for a minute.
“He’s gorgeous. I want him, and I don’t know what to do with that! I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve taken care of things twice in the last few days!” I’m half shouting when I finish my outburst and admitting everything sounds far more creepy out loud. I grimace and scrub my hands over my cheeks and up into my hair.
Sherri’s eyebrows go up. She knows how much I usually "take care of things," or at least how much I used to, which is to say not often. Twice in three or four days is unheard of.
“It sounds like you’re…what? Confused? Afraid? Worried?” Sherri asks.
“Not… afraid. But confused, god, yes. And I meant what I said. I feel like a creep. He’s twenty years younger than I am! He’s Mandy’s best friend!” I look at Sherri imploringly, willing her to understand and, hopefully, help me understand too.
“He’s almost thirty, from what Mandy has said,” Sherri says, and it’s so completely not what I was expecting her to say that I tilt my head like one of my dogs when they’re confused.
“Thirty?”
“Yes. He started school later. He’s older than Mandy. I thought you knew,” Sherri says.
I nod my head. “I know, I guess. It came up at some point, but still.”
Sherri shrugs. “So if you’re worried about him being so young, he’s not that young. He’s a full-grown man who can make his own decisions.” She studies me, her gaze boring into me. “You’re not worried about his gender, right?”
I shrug. Truthfully, that was the last thing I was concerned about. He was gorgeous, with a broad, muscular chest, thick, defined arms, and narrow hips. His gender was what made him gorgeous. The fact that, if I actually gave in and played out any of my fantasies with him, I would be touching a penis and pecs instead of breasts and a vagina just made the idea that much more arousing.
“Ben,” Sherri says gently. “Do you think maybe you’ve liked men all along and didn’t realize that’s what it was? We both had a lot of preconceived notions when we got together. With hindsight that comes from twenty-plus years and a lot of self-reflection, I think we got married because we enjoyed and liked each other, but I don’t think we were ever in love. I’m not saying we didn’t love each other – and we still do – but… I’m pretty sure you never felt as strongly for me as you seem to be feeling for Trey. Do you think marrying a woman might be another of the things that you did because you thought you were supposed to do them?”
I want to dispute what Sherri is saying about us, mostly out of reflex, but I know it’s true. I had come to understand that I had married Sherri because I was supposed to. That was the right step at the right time. I loved – love – Sherri deeply, but I never physically desired her the way I do Trey. The sight of Trey’s bare chest caused a depth of longing in me that I had never experienced before.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “We went on a hike, and he took his shirt off. I nearly embarrassed myself,” I confess. “And he says such nice things to me. I just–” I shake my head. “I just want to make him happy.”
That is true… although in my fantasies in the shower, the methods of "making him happy" are a lot more sexual than our real-life relationship.
Sherri is smiling. “You like him. You really, really like him. Do you think he likes you too? Mandy mentioned he’s gay.”
I shrink a little. I don’t find myself particularly desirable in any context. I’m slim, not muscular, with more gray in my hair every time I look. Mandy tells me I’m handsome, and I suppose I’m all right, but someone as stunning as Trey must have far better options than me. I’m sure he likes me fine, but I can’t imagine that he could be attracted to me.
I shake my head. “I doubt it. What would he see in me?”
Sherri gives me an unamused frown. “Not that again,” she says, and I sit up straight, feeling a little like I’ve displeased a teacher. “Look, Ben, honey. It’s clear you at least have a crush on him. Why don’t you see if he’s interested, too, and then, if he is… see where it takes you? You deserve to find someone that makes you feel alive and desired. Finding Mitch was the most wonderful thing that happened to me besides giving birth to Mandy.” She winces as she says it, realizing, I think, how it might sound, but I’m not taking it personally.
I hear what she’s saying, but I can’t believe that he would be interested in me, so I shake my head. Talking it over with her has clarified some things, though. There’s no doubt I’m sexually attracted to Trey, and I’ve probably always been attracted to men and women. It seems like I get to learn to deal with a whole new aspect of my sexuality instead of a typical mid-life crisis. I’m recapping my conclusions for Sherri when I notice the newspaper on the counter. “‘Murder in Shafter Falls.’ Jesus, really?”
Sherri nods. “Wyatt mentioned it, and then I saw it on the front page, so I had to buy the paper. Sam is not a happy camper. There have been two bodies found, and he’s worried it’s a serial killer or something, I think.”
I frown at that. Shafter Falls is tiny and a very quiet little town for the most part. There had been some nastiness when Sam’s husband had first returned to town, but that had been dealt with, as far as I knew. But then still waters run deep, so who knows what might be lurking under the surface.
I read the article, and Sherri tells me what she’s heard from Wyatt – no suspects as yet, but a county investigator is assisting the small police department that serves Shafter Falls – before Sherri folds the paper and looks at me. “Ben.”
“Yes?” I ask immediately. That tone has always meant business.
“Ben, think about what I’ve said. You deserve a chance to find that kind of happiness.” She takes my hand. “Think about it. If not with Trey, for whatever reason, with someone.”
I’ve never been able to refuse Sherri anything when she turned the doe eyes on me. “I’ll think about it,” I promise.
And I do, on the drive and after I’m home. I see Trey for a few minutes when he gets home from his internship. As I work to ignore how good his forearms look with his sleeves cuffed twice, I think about Sherri’s advice. Should I be going out and trying to meet men romantically? I hadn’t desired men before, at least that I could remember. I had thought many men were good-looking in the same way I thought many women were pretty. So far, though, only Trey makes me ferociously hard, and my hands itch to touch. Only my daughter’s best friend.
Creep, the voice in my head whispers.
No, I decide. I reach the only possible conclusion. I will keep my attraction to myself; it's the only right thing to do.
I couldn’t get the mental image of his forearms out of my head, though, and my shower runs cold before I get out once again that night.