8
Bart lays panting in the late afternoon sun at the other end of the room. A light breeze plays with the curtains while Alex ignores the buzz of his phone on the table; Ben relaxes against his chest, his weight comforting and familiar. Sighs. He closes his eyes and runs his fingertips across the worn denim of Ben’s jeans. Warm breath plays over the bare skin of his throat as Ben shifts and murmurs words too low to decipher. A flicker of tongue against skin follows movement that allows Alex access to the buttons of Ben’s jeans. Soft groan as long fingers slip across warm skin; he dips his head and nudges Ben into an awkward kiss. Ben slides his bare feet along the length of Alex’s sock covered ones. Alex seeks skin on skin; fingers rub, stroke, tease. Ben counters with skin over fabric; fingers caress, hint, encourage. Alex’s mouth moves to Ben’s ear; promises are murmured. Fingers tighten against skin; thumbs dig into butter soft denim; bare feet press hard against stockinged ones.
“Alex.” Ben’s voice insists, pleads, warns.
Pounding on the door startles them both upright. Alex’s grip tightens and Ben hisses in shock, they scramble to their feet. Alex tugs his shirt over his jeans, muttering under his breath; from the corner of his eye he sees Ben wince as he tries to zip his jeans closed. Trembling from the sudden rush of adrenalin Alex jerks the door open.
His mother is in the hallway and for a moment Alex feels faint.
“Mom, what are you doing here?”
“Janice,” Ben says behind him, his tone cold enough to form ice.
“I have been trying to phone you for over an hour.” She shoves her way into the room, high heels clicking on the timber floor.
“Sorry,” Alex mumbles, avoiding her eye. “We were … busy.”
He glances at Ben for help but Ben’s leaning against the wall, arms folded against his chest. Undisguised fury has replaced desire and Alex takes a step back. Janice holds her coat and bag toward Ben; when he doesn’t move, Alex lunges for them and drops them on the dining table.
“It’s Sunday afternoon,” she says, glaring at Ben. “What on earth could you possibly be busy with?”
Alex sees the challenge in her eyes and panics before Ben can respond.
“Nothing. I just didn’t hear my phone. Sorry. Is something wrong? Is Dad okay?”
“Don’t pretend you care.” She looks down at Bart who is nudging a toy to her feet, waiting for her to play. “Get that animal away from me.”
Heavily shadowed eyes make their way over Alex in silent displeasure when he refuses to rise to the bait.
“That tee-shirt is too small. You need to throw it out.”
She’s not wrong – too long in the tumble dryer has left the tee-shirt a size too small. Which is why Ben likes Alex to wear it - not that Alex feels inclined to share that piece of information as he moves toward Bart. Ben has not moved from the wall; arms still a barricade against the unfolding scene. When Alex catches his eye, he shakes his head once and Alex stops, lets go of Bart’s collar. He wants to go to him and tell him it’s okay; wants to run his fingers against the soft denim again and whisper that he’ll make it up to him when she’s gone. Instead he turns to look at his mother, swallows when her mouth thins even further. Sweat trickles down his back.
“What's so important you couldn’t leave a message, Janice?” Ben asks still not moving. The sharp-edged tone is apparently not lost on the woman standing in front of them and she spreads her feet an inch, sets her shoulders. Prepares for battle, thinks Alex with dread.
“Don’t take that tone with me Benjamin,” she snaps “I won’t allow it. We need to discuss this thing you think you are doing.”
“This thing?” Ben asks, raising an eyebrow. “Having a child, you mean?”
Janice makes a retching sound.
“I will not allow this farce you are attempting to force on this family, to happen.”
“Mom, it’…” Alex begins.
“Be quiet!” Janice raises her hand, palm out. Alex bows his head; tries to tell himself he’s okay, that this is his home and he doesn’t have to listen to her. Tries to force his feet to move, to throw her out. The knot in his stomach stops him. “It is bad enough you are living this abominable life with no thought for anyone but yourself but to drag your brother and his wife into this disgusting display of indecency – “
It’s the word disgusting that does it. The derision and hatred and dismissal in it. Something in Alex snaps when he hears her use that word. Since knowing Ben he’s felt many things – fear, anger, love – but he’s never felt that what they have is disgusting. The greatest gift Ben’s love has given him is the freedom from the overwhelming shame of being nothing, not strong enough to stand up to her, not strong enough to be himself. He won’t let her take that away from him.
“Tell me, Mom,” he steps forward, tucking his hair behind his ear with a trembling hand, “what disgusts you most – that he loves me, that he makes me happy, or that he fucks me?”
A strangled coughing sound erupts from Ben but Alex ignores him.
“How dare you speak to me like that?” The rage boiling in his mother’s voice sends Alex hurtling back into childhood and her cringes in spite of his determination. “How dare you?”
“How dare I?” Alex lowers his voice. “You barged into our home, interrupted our afternoon, to give your unasked-for opinion on our life, Mom. That’s how I dare.”
“If your father was here …”
“If my father was here, he’d be saying exactly what you’d tell him to say,” Alex sneers with a cold smile. “I don’t need your permission to live my life. Not anymore. Matt and Claire came to us, offering to help us start a family and this baby is already more wanted and more loved by more people than you can even begin to imagine. I feel sorry for you because you’re going to miss out on your grandchild just because you can’t get your ignorant head out of your ass.”
“I don’t have to stand here and listen to this…”
“No, you don’t, so why don’t you leave so I can get my hands back in my husband’s pants.”
“Oh shit,” Ben murmurs.
Janice snatches her coat and bag from the table and before either of them can move is stalking to the door. She stops to glare at both of them.
“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer. I’m sure the authorities will take a dim view of someone who is mentally unstable, and frankly dangerous, being in charge of a child.”
Speechless, Alex turns to face Ben. A hard smile spreads over the lawyer’s face as he pushes away from the wall at last.
“You do that, Janice. Be sure to give him my number and to tell him to block time out in his diary so we can discuss the night you walked away from a minor in need of urgent medical attention. I’m sure that will give him all the clarity he needs on where the danger is.” He takes a step toward her and she backs up against the door. “And Janice, just so you know, there’s a reason I’m the youngest partner in my firm and that reason is that I’m fucking good at what I do. So, you go talk to your lawyer. I’ll be here waiting.”
The door slams behind her.
◆◆◆
Trembling, Alex slides down the wall to sit on the ground and buries his face in his hands. Pushes Bart away when he tries to clamber into his lap. Ben sits down beside him and Alex turns a stricken face to him, all courage gone.
“She can’t really do that, can she?”
“No baby, she can’t,” Ben says. “She can make a nuisance of herself but no judge would even hear her out. She has no grounds and she’s not capable of even pretending that she’s concerned about the baby. You don’t have to worry about that.”
Alex covers his face with his hands again and exhales, the sound shaky and fragile.
“Oh God, I’m so fucking stupid. I really thought she was going to just leave us alone.”
“Hey there’s nothing wrong with wanting to look at the good in life.” Ben moves Alex’s hands from his face. “But Alex, I think we need to trigger that restraining order and we might need to get one for Claire too.”
Alex nods; he knows Ben’s right but the whole thing is making his head swim. His stomach twists and cramps and he gags.
“Want me to get you a pill?”
“Yeah, please.” He tries to stand but Ben pushes him back down and goes to the bedroom. When he returns, he hooks a bottle of water from the bench, hands it and the pill to Alex, and sits back down.
“We better call Matt and Claire,” Alex says, voice still shaky.
“My guess is she’s probably beaten us to it but I wouldn’t worry too much, Matt won’t take any of her shit. We’ll phone them in a bit, when you’re feeling up to it. I’ll call Judge Andrews tomorrow and get a sign off on the order, but it will probably make you sound a bit more … fragile… than you are. Not much I can do about that.”
Alex laughs; it’s a humorless, bitter sound.
“Seriously? That’s the least of my problems. You can make me sound like I need a fucking straitjacket for all I care, just make sure she can’t get near Claire or do anything to the baby.”
He rests his head on Ben’s shoulder and closes his eyes. The nausea is passing but he’s still shaking, still feels as though his head might shatter. Ben rubs his cheek against his head.
“That he loves me, that he makes me happy, or that he fucks me?” Ben sounds amused. “Where the hell did that come from?”
Alex smacks his hand over his eyes.
“Oh my God, I don’t know, I can’t believe I said that.”
“Oh you said it, baby. What’s more, you said it to your mother.”
“Shut up, it’s not funny.”
“It’s a little bit funny.” Ben bumps their shoulders together.
“Jesus, Ben, really?” Alex huffs, trying not to smile. “You’re right, though, about her. My mother is a bitch. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not married to your mother.” Ben kisses his cheek.
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