Two Ben
two
Ben
Benny!” Ben’s mom shouted up the stairs. “You need to do any laundry?”
“I’m good, Mom!” Ben called down, trying his best to keep the frustration out of his voice.
Ben loved his parents—loved them enough that he even let his mom call him Benny—but he hated being home. Well, home wasn’t right. It was his parents’ home. It was where he’d grown up. But home was…
Complicated.
For the last five years, home had been San Francisco (well, Oakland, technically, because he couldn’t afford to live in San Francisco proper, not on a classical musician’s salary, not even one for the San Francisco Symphony); and before that, seven years in Detroit; and before that, three years in Raleigh.
Even then, they weren’t homes, just possible homes. He wouldn’t know where home was until he finally got tenure somewhere. Though his new contract was tenure-track, so his hopes were high.
It didn’t start for another week, though, while his lease in Oakland had run out at the end of February, leaving him no choice but to move back in with his parents (the rest of his stuff was in storage) until he could actually move into his new place.
So he’d spend the last two weeks at his family’s vineyard in Napa.
Even though Phoenix Mountain was doing well enough for them to move into the city, Ben’s parents still loved the old farmhouse at the edge of the vineyard, looking northwest toward Mount Saint Helena, with the tasting room downstairs and living spaces upstairs.
Growing up, Ben had hated that his family home constantly had strangers in it, but his siblings (and parents) had loved it. Somehow Ben had gotten all the introversion for the entire Liu family.
Even now, as he tried to practice his Dvo?ák 9—he’d be playing it at the beginning of April—he could hear footsteps on the hardwood floors down below, not to mention the bustle in the courtyard outside as some event company set up a party for finance bros.
A party. For finance bros.
Phoenix Mountain didn’t host events, not usually, but apparently the event planner had sweet-talked his mom and dad into letting them. Well, sweet-talked, plus offered a huge check, courtesy of the finance bros.
“Shit,” Ben said as he flubbed the same measure he always flubbed. He set down his cello and stood, rolling out his neck, stretching his back. He was forty years old; he couldn’t hunch over his cello for twelve hours a day anymore, not without spending some quality time with his foam roller.
Still, being forty had its benefits: Things didn’t bother him so much anymore. His opinions carried more weight. His playing had only gotten better, more nuanced, more expressive, the more life he lived. He’d learned to laugh at himself.
Yeah, forty was great, even if he was starting it out unexpectedly single.
Speaking of which—
“Ben?”
Justin’s voice carried up the stairs.
If Ben could do it all again, he absofuckinglutely would not date a man who worked for his parents. Much less move back into his parents’ house after breaking up with said man. But here he was.
And there Justin was, softly knocking on his bedroom door.
“Ben? You done practicing?”
Everyone at Phoenix Mountain (well, everyone except his mom) knew not to interrupt him if they could hear his cello, not unless something was on fire. On second thought, he never should’ve put down his bow.
He sighed and answered the door.
“I’m just taking a break. I’m still practicing.”
He went to close it, but Justin put his hand in the doorframe, and Ben was too aware that Justin needed his hands for pouring wine in the tasting room to actually close the door on Justin’s fingers.
“What do you want, Justin?”
Justin sighed and turned on his puppy dog eyes. He was a tall (well, above average height at least) white guy with brown eyes, auburn hair with a few flecks of gray in it, a dusting of freckles across his cheeks, and the kind of tan that everyone who worked in Napa got sooner or later.
He was gym-fit, and the relaxed dress code at the winery meant he was in a red Phoenix Mountain T-shirt that hugged his chest and molded to his triceps.
Ben used to think he was the most handsome man in the world. Now he was just… annoying.
“I want to talk to you,” he said. Justin’s voice was smooth and clear and just a bit husky. That used to be Ben’s favorite, the little bit of scratchiness. Now it just irritated him. “How many ways do I have to apologize for you to forgive me?”
“I do forgive you,” Ben said. He and Justin wanted different things. That didn’t mean he was angry and it didn’t mean he hated Justin. Just that they were done.
“Then why—”
“Just because I forgive you doesn’t mean I want to get back together.
At the end of the day, you said what you said.
You can’t undo that. I can’t pretend like I never heard it.
” Ben ran a hand through his hair, messing up his middle part, but he didn’t even care. “I’m moving next week. Just let it go.”
“I won’t give up,” Justin said earnestly. He dialed up the puppy-dog factor around his eyes. “I won’t stop fighting for us.”
“God, Justin, there is no us. You need to accept that.” He took a deep breath. “Now, can you please excuse me? This Dvo?ák isn’t going to practice itself.”
Justin finally let him close the door.
“Fuck,” Ben muttered. “Fuck!”
He never should’ve accepted his parents’ offer to stay with them. He should’ve gotten a hotel. Lived in his car. Anything but dealing with this.
When Justin had floated the idea of an open relationship last year, Ben thought he was just joking. Doing one of those hypotheticals that couples sometimes did. Would you love me if I was a worm? type shit.
But then, in January, he’d brought it up again. He wasn’t satisfied with their sex life. He loved Ben, but he didn’t want to have sex with only Ben.
Well, fuck that.
So Justin had moved back to Napa (he was already spending four days a week in Napa, sleeping in a friend’s spare room), and Ben had mentioned to his parents that they broke up, but not why.
As pissed off as he was, he didn’t want his parents taking it out on Justin. They’d spent their whole relationship navigating that particular dynamic, and Ben wasn’t so petty as to screw Justin all the way over.
But now Ben’s parents were convinced this was just a fight, that they’d get back together, and he wasn’t sure if Justin was the one who’d convinced his parents of that, or if his parents were the ones encouraging Justin to keep bothering him.
Things were done between them, though, well and truly done. Ben could never unhear that Justin wanted to sleep with other people.
Ben shook his head. He really needed to practice. He wasn’t going to get much chance once this event started and the house filled with noise.
It was nearly midnight when the hubbub from the vineyards finally died down and quiet descended. Ben took off his headphones and sighed.
Another thing that sucked about being back in his parents’ house: having to hide when there’s something going on at the vineyard.
But the finance bros had finally cleared out, the tables and chairs had all been picked up.
The sky was clear, the moon and stars were out, and Ben could finally get out of his room and stretch his legs.
He headed downstairs. The third stair from the bottom still squeaked, just like it always did.
Growing up he’d learned to avoid that step if he was doing something he didn’t think his parents would like, though he’d never been that rebellious as a child, other than the whole becoming-a-musician thing.
Despite the stereotype about East Asian parents, Ben’s mom and dad had actually been a little disappointed he wanted to be a cellist instead of a winemaker.
After all, there weren’t too many top-tier wineries in Napa operated by the descendants of Chinese immigrants.
Ben loved wine, but he loved the cello more. And thankfully his siblings Nathan and Alexandra did love winemaking and were taking over more and more of the winery every day.
“Oh, Benny!” Ben’s mom caught him as he headed for the back door.
Judy Liu had a round face framed by black hair with a few streaks of gray in it, pulled back into a ponytail when she was working.
She was a full foot shorter than Ben—he got his height from his dad—and pear shaped, and she always had a song in her voice.
She’d been responsible for Ben’s love for music, much to her own chagrin.
“Hey, Mom. Everything go okay?” Ben leaned over for a quick hug.
“It went great. And best of all, it’s all done now.”
Ben laughed. His mom hated staying up past her bedtime.
“I’m just going to get some air before I go to bed,” Ben said, kissing his mom on the cheek. “Dad already go up?”
She nodded. “You want waffles tomorrow?”
Ben laughed. “I’m good, Mom. You don’t have to feed me.”
“I like feeding my son,” she said, swatting his chest affectionately. “Don’t stay up too late.”
“I won’t.”
She turned to go, but then stopped herself. “Oh, Benny, one more thing?”
Ben pushed his glasses up his nose. “Hm?”
“Don’t you think this whole breakup thing has gone on long enough? You’re only hurting you both.”
He sighed. “It’s between me and Justin, Mom.”
“I know. I just hate to see you both so unhappy. Couples fight and make up all the time. It happens.”
It wasn’t just a fight, and they weren’t going to make up. But Ben couldn’t tell her that.
“Good night, Mom.”
He grabbed his cardigan—a white, fluffy wool thing he’d found at a flea market back in San Francisco—and put it on before stepping out into the cool night air.
The vineyard still smelled like grape blossoms, and Ben closed his eyes and breathed in. Was there anything in the world that smelled so sweet?
If so, he’d never found it.
The stars were bright and clear, and the full moon painted the rows and rows of vines in silvery light.
To the right, next to the house, the parking lot was mostly clear, though Ben could still see signs of the party: discarded black napkins barely visible against the asphalt, cheese and crackers and crudités smashed and left on the ground.
Not too bad, though. A few folks in black shirts and dark jeans, nearly invisible in the night, were wandering the periphery, probably the last of the crew cleaning up.
Ben’s gaze landed on one in particular. This one was in a suit.
It was hard to make out the color, dark but not black, slim fit to accentuate the guy’s (he assumed it was a guy, at least) lean height.
His head was shaved, shining in the moonlight, and he carried himself with the kind of quiet confidence Ben associated with eccentric conductors.
He was hot, no denying that, and Ben took a moment to admire the view.
“Ben? You out here?” Justin’s voice rang from the other side of the house.
Shit. Shit.
His bullshit meter was already full up. He couldn’t handle another conversation with Justin tonight. His heart beat in andante as he scurried out of the light of the house, toward the moonlit vineyards—and the guy in the suit.
“Evening,” the guy said as Ben approached, taking in Ben’s appearance—jeans and a white fluffy cardigan—and cocking his head. “You with the vineyard?”
“Yeah,” Ben said.
“Ben?” Justin’s voice rang out again. Ben looked back over his shoulder, trying to figure out if Justin could see him. How deep could he get into the vines? How far did he have to go before he was out of sight?
Why the fuck did he have to hide, anyway? This was his family’s place.
God. What did he have to do to get it through Justin’s thick skull that they were done?
He turned back to find the man in the suit smiling at him. No, that wasn’t just a smile. It was… appreciative.
Fuck it.
“Listen, I know this is a wild ask, but can I kiss you?”
Suit Guy’s eyebrows shot up, crinkling his forehead.
“It’s for a good cause.”
His smile widened. “Sure you can.”
“Ben?” Justin’s voice was getting closer.
Ben grabbed the guy by the lapels and pulled him into a kiss.