Thursday, 11 April 2013

Bridget and the midnight vulgaritics.

(Title stolen from one of Henry's favorite books as a toddler. Matthew and the Midnight Tow Truck. He refused to donate it to the school's book sale this week. I can't say I blame him, it's a rollicking read.)

Ben was game to sing last night.

He sang the song to me while he removed my clothing, one button at a time. Sliding satin over skin, smoothing words over hurt feelings, burying our argument in a melody torn from his throat in time with his heartbeat.

He lifted me up by my elbows, pulling me against him, keeping me there. When he ran out of words he used kisses instead. Ben's kisses are like clouds. Stormy and fierce one minute, soft and breathtaking the next. His affection is like the weather. You're either freezing, never to be warm again or you're so warm you wish you would just melt down into the grass and dissolve, hating yourself for wishing it was cold again.

Ben, I- Oh, there goes the hand again. Fine, cover my mouth, I can wait.

Oh, except I'll forget what I wanted to fight about because.





Oh my GOD. The only way it would be better would be if there was cake.


Hours later he tries to turn me over for more. My elbows, knees and eyelids weigh a thousand pounds now, but I'm up for whatever he can throw at me.

Instead he changes his mind, collapsing against me. Too tired. Have to sleep.

You can sleep when you're dead, Jake. 

He lifts his head up and looks at me. I can't even check the alarm on my face. I've never done that before. Called someone by the wrong name by accident anyway. I've done it on purpose many times.

Is that why you're with me? Because I'm as big as he was? A physical replacement?

Actually you're bigger. I can't help it. It's four in the morning and my emotions have been right inside the top edge of my skin for hours. I start laughing. Ben is a license to breathe and remember that life is supposed to be fun. So why we struggle so hard most of the time I don't understand at all.

He takes a minute to process all that information and then opts for grace.

I knew that, he grins and winks at me in the dark.

I don't want to know how. 

Easy. You didn't whistle when you walked until after I fucked you.

Classy, Tucker. 

I know. You're lucky on all counts, aren't you?