“Ah!” I jumped up off the bed and into a pair of jeans. “We’re already going to be late!”
“We’re meeting her at six?” Ben asked, not moving. “She’s always late.”
“Yes! Yes! But we still have to be on time!” I was reaching around the side of the bed searching for my bra. I didn’t like the way my breasts looked in certain positions, and I found myself running around the room with one arm covering them.
Ben got up. “Okay. Can we just check to see if she’ll be there on time?”
I stopped looking a moment to stare at him. “What? No. We have to leave now!”
Ben laughed. “Okay, I will get us there at six oh five,” he said as he put his pants on and threw a shirt on over them. He was suddenly ready to go, and I was nowhere near it.
“Okay! Okay!” I ran into the bathroom to see if I’d left my bra there. Ben followed me in, helping me. He found it before I did and threw it at me. “Don’t cover your boobs on my account. I know you think they look bad when you are bent over, but you’re wrong. So next time just let ’em hang free, baby.”
I looked at him in stunned silence. “You are so fucking weird,” I said.
He picked me up like I weighed three pounds. My body was straight against his, my legs tight together, my arms on his shoulders. He looked at me and kissed my collarbone. “I’m weird for loving you?”
I think he was just as shocked he’d said it as I was. “To love parts of you, I meant.” He put me down. “I meant, to love parts of you.” He blushed slightly as I found a shirt and put it on. I smiled at him like he was a child who had very adorably hidden my car keys.
“You weren’t supposed to say that,” I teased him as I put on mascara and got my shoes.
“Ignore it please!” He was now waiting by the door for me.
“I don’t think I can ignore it!” I said as we exited my front door.
We got in the car and he started the engine. “I really am sorry about that. It just came out.”
“You broke the rules!” I said again.
“I know! I know. I’m already embarrassed. It’s . . . ” He trailed off as we headed down the street. He was pretending to be focused on driving, but I could tell all of him was focused on this sentence.
“It’s what?”
Ben sighed, suddenly serious. “I made up the whole five-week thing because I was afraid I’d tell you I loved you too soon and you wouldn’t say it back and I’d be embarrassed, and now here I am, I waited all these days to tell you and I . . . I still told you too soon and you didn’t say it back and I’m embarrassed.” He played the end off like a joke, but it wasn’t a joke.
“Hey,” I said, grabbing his arm. He was stopped at a red light. I turned his head and looked him in the eye. “I love you too,” I said. “Probably before you did. I’ve been waiting to say it all month, practically.”
His eyes looked glassy, and I couldn’t tell if he was tearing up or he was perfectly fine. Either way, he kissed me and held my gaze until the cars behind us honked. Ben immediately started paying attention to the road again.
“I had this whole plan!” He laughed. “I was going to wake up early tomorrow and go into the bathroom and write ‘I love you’ on the mirror with a bar of soap.”
I laughed. “Well, you can still do that tomorrow,” I said, rubbing his hand. “It will mean just as much to me then.”
Ben laughed. “Okay then, maybe I will.” And he did. I left it there for days.
JUNE
I can’t help but feel for Susan after her eulogy. She has made me love my husband even more than I did when he was alive.