10
parks the car in front of a large stone house and turns to shake a snoring Alex who jerks upright running his fingers through his hair, disoriented and half asleep.
“You are ridiculously cute for a grown ass man who just woke up,” Ben says with a laugh. “Come meet the women in my life.”
Alex’s eyes widen and Ben turns to follow his gaze. Polly and his mother are standing on the doorstep. Waving to them, he squeezes Alex’s knee with his other hand.
“Did I remember to tell you that Polly is a bit eccentric?”
Alex shakes his head and turns to look at Ben. Okay so maybe there is more going on than Ben thinks. Panic is radiating from the taller man in waves, his breath is coming in short, sharp pants, and the grip he has on Ben’s fingers is making Ben worry about the circulation. For a moment, he’s convinced he’s going to find himself with a lap full of terrified Alex and leans over to gently kiss him while easing his fingers out of the vice they’re trapped in.
“It’s okay, baby,” he says. “I’m right here.”
It takes another minute of coaxing to get Alex from the car, taking his hand to tug him up the steps; in the distance, he can hear waves crashing against the shore. This has been home to everything he associates with love and security for most of his life. If anything can help break through Alex’s anxiety, it’s being here. His mother steps forward and pulls him into a hard hug, forcing him to let go of Alex. Immediately he feels a hand scrabbling at the back of his shirt, clutching the hem of it when it pulls free from Ben’s jeans; he smiles against his mother’s shoulder, then gives her a loud, smacking kiss.
“Hey gorgeous, as you can see, we got here in one piece,” he says and reaches back to take Alex’s hand. The vice locks around his fingers again, making him wince. “Mom, this is Alex. Alex, I’d like you to meet my mother.”
Ben’s mother is a handsome woman with the same bright green, intelligent eyes as her son, and a thick braid of silver hair hanging over her shoulder. She’s wearing jeans and a denim shirt; a pair of pale pink framed glasses hang on a chain around her neck.
Alex clears his throat and holds a trembling hand out.
“Hello Miz Larsen,” he says.
“Oh, good lord, only my bank manager calls me that, and it generally means he’s pissed at me. Please call me Allie,” she says and takes his hand in both of hers and smiles. “It’s lovely to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you too, Allie,” Alex stammers, reddening. Ben squeezes his hand again, then pulls him up a step.
“Alex, this is Polly, my grandmother,” he says and watches, amused, as Alex studies the woman in front of him.
Unlike her grandson, Polly Larsen is tiny. At five foot three and barely ninety pounds, she looks as though she might break if Alex hugs her. The fragile beauty of age hints at what she must have been as a young woman. Smooth silky skin, almost transparent, creases into a myriad of lines appear around her bright, amused eyes when she smiles up at Alex. Dressed in bright purple baggy pants with a lime green tee-shirt, she looks at least fifteen years younger than the ninety she is about to celebrate. Her hair is styled in a short, sharp bob and is a somewhat disconcerting shade of turquoise.
Shaking hands, it turns out, is not something Polly has even a remote interest in.
“Hello Alex,” she says and pulls him to her. “My daughter is right, it’s lovely to meet you at last.”
She stands back but keeps her hands on his shoulders, tiptoeing to do so even though he’s still a step lower than she is.
“What’s more, you’re even better looking in person than in your photos. No wonder you’ve turned my grandson’s head.”
With that she turns her attention to Ben.
“As for you, young man, are you too old to hug your elders now?” she says, holding her arms open.
“Well if you’d stop groping my boyfriend, I might be able to.”
Ben wraps his arms around her, lays his cheek against her head, and breathes in her familiar smell of Chanel No 5 and ruby port. Even though he knows she’s stronger than she looks, she feels delicate in his arms, as though she could be snapped in half with a single flick of a finger, and he closes his eyes for a moment. Behind him, his mother is suggesting to Alex they get the bags and he hears them go down the steps.
“Happy birthday grandma,” he says and yelps when she slaps his butt.
“You can stop with the grandma shit right now,” Polly says and steps away to open the door. “Now help your mother and Alex with those bags.”
“Yes ma’am,” Ben says and takes the carrier bag of gifts his mother is carrying. He catches Alex’s eye and is relieved to see a shy smile surfacing along with some of the color to his face. “I don’t know what you’re smiling about. Wait until she slaps your ass and has you running around after her.”
“Stop filling Alex’s head with nonsense,” Polly calls from inside.
“Nothing wrong with her hearing,” Ben mutters and kiss Alex’s cheek. “Welcome to my family.”
#
While Polly and Allie disappear toward the back of the house, Ben takes Alex upstairs to put their bags away. He pulls on a sweater; after a moment’s hesitation, Alex does the same then looks around the room. The walk-in closet looks at least as big as Alex’s bedroom back in the city and the bathroom is a mass of glossy black ceramic. Framed photos of Ben at varying ages litter the bookcase that is home to a collection of battered paperbacks – The Silence of The Lambs, The Shining, Catcher in The Rye, The Lord of The Rings – and Alex smiles as he inspects them. He has the same collection in his own bookcase. There’s a framed poster of Pierce Brosnan as James Bond on one wall; he raises an eyebrow and smirks.
“Don’t judge,” Ben says with a shrug. “I was sixteen.”
“Uh huh. And your excuse now?”
Finally, Alex turns to the huge picture window looking out over the ocean.
“Wow.” Alex is mesmerized by the early evening moonlight shimmering on the waves breaking on the shore below. “Did you grow up here?”
“We moved in when I was about twelve, I guess,” Ben says and slides his arms around Alex’s waist, nosing curls out of the way so he can dot the exposed skin with kisses. “My mom designed it.”
“What? Really?” Alex reaches back so he can pull Ben around beside him; the kisses are making his skin prickle with desire which, he knows, is what Ben wants. Allie might be open-minded, and Polly might be eccentric but that is not happening. Not when Alex finally has his breathing under control.
“Yeah, I told you she is an architect. Dude, do you ever listen to me?”
“Try including important details from to time. Like the fact that you have a 911T or that your mother is an amazing architect. Didn’t they teach you that in law school? This house should be in magazines.”
“Well it has been in magazines,” Ben says with a laugh, “and I kind of thought the amazing was inferred. How do you think law school was paid for?”
Before Alex can say anything, Allie calls them. Alex is disconcerted when Ben takes his hand to lead him downstairs – even more so than when Ben referred to him as his boyfriend –to find Allie and Polly sitting outside by a fire pit. Flames flicker and dance in the night air and on the glass table-top is a large platter of sandwiches and bottles of beer.
“There’s chicken and beef and there are a couple with just egg salad,” Allie says, smiling at Alex as she pushes the plate toward him. “Ben didn’t say whether you eat meat or not.”
“I do eat meat, but egg salad is good too,” Alex says reaching for a sandwich. “Especially given the stuff Ben insisted we stop for on the way.”
“Hey fried chicken is a national dish.”
“Cheap fried chicken is a one-way trip to the emergency room you mean,” Alex says. “Well, maybe not for you. You have an iron constitution.”
“Try giving him fish,” Allie says as she twists the top off one of the beer bottles and hands it to Alex.
“Mom let’s spare Alex the details of the multiple ways my digestive tract betrays me if I eat fish, okay?”
Alex laughs, and picks up a sandwich. It’s good and he finishes it in three bites, surprised by how hungry he is. When he notices Ben’s hand resting on his knee, he catches his breath and has to swallow hard to get the last bit of sandwich down, throwing a nervous glance at Allie and Polly but neither appear concerned. He reaches for another sandwich and for a while is happy to simply eat and listen to Ben and Polly bicker.
When the sandwiches are gone, Polly disappears into the house, returning with a bottle of port and four glasses. Alex accepts the glass she holds out to him, takes a sip of the rich liquid.
“So, Alex, what do you do?” Polly asks once she’s seated again. “Apart from my grandson, I mean.”
Alex chokes on his drink and Ben’s hand tightens on his knee.
“Polly, how about we don’t kill him tonight?” Ben’s tone is light, but his eyes are serious as he rescues the glass and puts it on the table, then thumps Alex’s back.
“I’m a pediatric APRN,” Alex says finally, still dabbing at his shirt which now sports a cluster of purple splotches. “I work at the Valley Rehab Centre that’s part of Valley Presbyterian hospital.”
“Really? How fascinating,” Polly says and leans forward, propping her chin on her hand. “And do tell, what is an APRN?”
“Advanced Practice Registered Nurse,” he says. “I have a master’s degree in pediatrics.”
“You have a master’s degree?” Ben says. “I didn’t know that.”
“Well if you spent as much time checking out my mind as you do my butt, you would,” Alex says peering at him from under the hair that hangs in his eyes.
Polly’s laugh is low and throaty, and he feels a warm tingle of happiness at being the cause of it. Allie is laughing too, but when he looks at Ben, he’s disconcerted to see his mouth hanging open in surprise.
“What?”
“Nothing, it’s just that if I has known five minutes and a half glass of port with my grandmother was going to relax you this much, I would have brought you here weeks ago,” Ben says.
Encouraged by the alcohol and the laughter, Alex retrieves his glass from the table and kisses Ben’s cheek. Polly claps her hands and tops the glasses up, flapping her hand at her daughter when she protests.
“Oh hush it’s only one glass,” she says. “Besides, something has to kill me.”
“Not funny, Polly,” Ben says with a frown.
“Alex thinks I’m funny, don’t you, young man? Now, tell me what it’s like dating my grandson.”
“Okay it’s been a long trip,” Ben says standing up, “and we’ve got a big day tomorrow, how about we clear this away for you, Mom.”
“We’ll go for a walk tomorrow and you can tell me then.” Polly pats Alex’s cheek.
“It’s a date.”
“It is not a date,” Ben says, “Polly, get your own. This one’s taken.”
#
to hide his smile, Alex busies himself gathering the bottles and plates and follows Allie to the kitchen. He can hear the fire pit hissing and popping as Ben pours water on it.
“You have a beautiful home, Allie,” he says as he puts the dishes on the bench. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“You’re very welcome, Alex, and thank you. Tomorrow I’ll show you through if you’d like.”
“I’d like that very much. Ben says you designed it?”
“Yes, I did. It is the very first house I ever imagined,” Allie says with a smile. Polly and Ben come in and she reaches up to hug her son. “I put clean towels in your bathroom kid.”
“I saw, thank you.” Ben kisses her cheek. “You need help locking up?”
“Manage perfectly well when you’re not here, thank you very much. Alex, do you mind if I kiss you goodnight?”
Alex blushes and shakes his head, leaning down to accept the kiss. Before he can straighten, Polly throws her arms around his neck and kiss the other cheek. When he is finally able to free himself from her embrace, he follows Ben upstairs, fingers entwined in the hem of his tee-shirt, laughing when he hears Allie telling her mother off for sexual harassment.
#
lets Ben use the bathroom first while he pulls a pair of soft, cotton pajamas on. Once his initial panic settled, the evening was nice. It’s all too easy to imagine what his mother would have to say about Ben’s family but that just makes him like them more. Allie reminds him of Claire, the way she takes care to not make him feel awkward even while teasing him. He can do this, he tells himself as he plugs his phone into charge. The bathroom door swings open and Ben comes out. He’s naked and when he sees Alex, stops to stare, mouth hanging open.
“What the hell are those?” Ben asks pointing to the long, blue pants and tee-shirt.
“Pajamas,” Alex says, pulling his toilet kit from his back pack.
“And you’re wearing them because?”
Alex drops a kiss on Ben’s temple as he goes into the bathroom.
“Because this is your mother’s house,” he says getting out his toothbrush.
Ben groans and flicks back the bed covers.
“Dude, seriously? What am I going to do with you?”
“I can tell you what you’re not going do with me,” Alex calls and closes the door. Laughs at the grumbling from the other side as he cleans his teeth and uses the toilet.
When he comes out, he finds Ben sitting up in bed, pouting, arms folded over his bare chest. Alex grins and leans against the door jamb.
“That ever work on your mom and Polly?”
“All the time,” Ben retorts and pushes his bottom lip further out.
Alex rolls his eyes and gets into bed.
“Yeah, I bet.”
Stretching out on to his side to face Ben, he pats the mattress next to him.
“You going to sit like that all night, or are you going to lay down?”
Ben blows air out through his nose, flicks the lamp off, and slides down in the bed. Nestles his head against Alex’s shoulder. Alex dips his head, kisses him, and wraps an arm over Ben’s waist.
“Polly’s very cool,” he says, smiling, against Ben’s hair. “Has she always been so ...”
“Weird?”
“Well, I was going to say original,” Alex says with a grin. Ben laughs and steals a kiss.
“Original, huh? She’s that for sure. But, pretty much, yeah.”
“Your mom’s really nice.”
“I like her,” Ben says. “You know, you’re pretty nice yourself.”
As he speaks his hand drifts down to the hem of Alex’s tee-shirt and he inches his fingers beneath, skimming them across the skin of his lower back, pretending he’s not doing what they both know he is doing. Alex closes his eyes for a second then reaches back to catch Ben’s wrist and holds it tight.
“Nice try,” he says and kisses Ben’s forehead. Still holding his hand in a vice like grip, he turns over so his back is against Ben’s chest. This isn’t quite as effective as he’d hoped it would be since Ben promptly begins nuzzling his neck and rubbing against him, making him moan. Digs his fingers into the skin of Ben’s wrist.
“Ben, I can’t. Not with your mother and Polly just down the hall.”
“Baby,” Ben whispers.
As it turns out, he can. Twice.