I looked at him in the mirror again as he was still grinning at me. “No, the pearls silly! Should I wear them or not?” I asked while holding them up to my neck again.
Ben’s smile faded a little as he took the pearls from my hands. “No pearls. They remind me of your grandma. Not that I didn’t love your Grammy, but I love you in a totally different way. I don’t want Grammy images popping up in my head while I’m fucking you.” He turned me back around and kissed me right on the chest where the pearl necklace would have sat, while he ran his hand up under my dress. I shivered from his contact, and his bright smile returned.
I laughed lightly and said, “Stop it Ben Covington! You can’t do that after talking about Grammy, it just seems wrong.” I moved aside and started to leave the bathroom to go put on my shoes. I tripped over a towel on my way out and said, “Maybe you could try cleaning up after yourself a little,” but he knew I was kidding since I was much messier than he was.
“I love you, you know,” Ben said while he followed me out of the bathroom.
As I sat on the bed, still unmade from our afternoon romp, I slipped on one of my shoes before pulling my leg up onto the bed. “I know, and I love you too.” Once again, I wondered: why the onslaught of affection?
Ben stood over me to help me fasten the ankle strap of my left shoe. I noticed his facial expression change again, taking on a more serious tone. “No Dahlia, I really, really love you. Never forget it, no matter what.”
“Dahlia? You never call me that,” I said as I wriggled my foot and ran it up his stomach trying to lighten the mood.
Ben smirked at my gesture, set my foot down, and walked over to his dresser. I was at a loss for words as he reached into one of the drawers and pulled out a Cartier box. Walking back to the bed, he handed me the box and said, “I bought this for you because it says what I never seem to be able to say to you.”
Surprised at the lavish name on the box, I looked at it for a few seconds before opening it. Inside was a stunning white gold and diamond bracelet. It had four hearts engraved around the edge. I knew it well because I had written a paper about that piece of jewelry in college for one of my style classes. The bracelet was created by Cartier in the 1970s and is meant to be a symbol of genuine loving attachment; a discreet token of passionate love. It is to be locked firmly onto the loved one’s wrist by the giver with the aid of an included golden screwdriver of which the giver remains the guardian. Looking up at him, my eyes started to fill with tears, and without words I put my hand out for him to fasten the bracelet around my wrist.
Staring at the beautiful piece of jewelry, overcome by emotion, I tried not to cry. “I love it,” I said while swallowing hard. He leaned down and kissed me softly on the lips. I gazed at him and noticed his eyes were slightly weepy, and his forehead was creased.
I kept watching him as he turned around and walked toward what used to be my mother’s hope chest. It was old, and the creamy-white paint was almost completely peeled off. Ben’s strides were slow and deliberate. His display of emotion was unusual. I had never seen him that overcome, not even when he asked me to marry him. He just wasn’t very emotional; it wasn’t his nature.