Fire Down Below (19 page)

“Here,” Declan says coming over
and handing me a can of cold coke. “No more liquor for you woman—I’m cutting
you off.”

I smile. “Thanks.”

He flops beside me, putting the
bowl of popcorn between us for easy access. “So do you see anything to our
taste?”

Declan and I both have a penchant
for weird art house films that are extremely oblique and difficult to
understand. They’re typically independent, usually foreign, and almost always
horrible. It’s become something of a joke between us as in who can find the most
obscure movies.  

“No, nothing.”

“What about Sundance?”

“Nope, they’re showing some sort
of actor’s workshop.”

After searching for a few minutes
we decide to watch a movie on cable. The selections are all mainstream, but we
both finally agree on a Diane Keaton movie called
Because I Said So
.

“I like Diane Keaton,” Declan says,
reaching for a handful of popcorn. “Did you ever see
Annie Hall
? That’s
one of the best films ever made.”

The movie turns out to be okay—very
much a chick flick, but still watchable. At least Declan doesn’t mind that it’s
a chick flick. I’ve dated guys who seem afraid of them. It’s like they’re
worried they’ll turn gay. As the movie progresses we’re throwing out little
comments about the characters and plot. Somewhere in the middle of the film
Diane Keaton’s character, who is turning sixty, asks her daughter what it’s
like to have an orgasm. Apparently she’s never had one because her ex-husband
was so selfish in bed he didn’t care whether she climaxed. This strikes me as totally
absurd. She’s sixty years old and it’s never occurred to her that she could give
herself an orgasm?

“My God,” I mutter. “Someone please
buy this woman a vibrator.”

“A vibrator.” Declan crunches on
some popcorn. “Is that what you use?”

I shrug. “Sometimes.”

“Damn, I wouldn’t mind seeing that.”

“What?” It suddenly occurs to me
what we’re really talking about and I turn to look at him. He’s already grinning.
I’m speechless for a second, but then grab a handful of popcorn and throw it in
his face.

“Hey!” He picks it off of his
chest where it’s fallen and eats it, still giving me that gorgeous grin. It
strikes me then how incredibly handsome he is. Where have I been that I’ve
never noticed this before? Declan’s not handsome in a classic kind of way—a Ben
kind of way—but I have to admit he’s...hot.  

“I don’t think we should be having
this conversation,” I say smiling, but trying not to.

“Why is that? I want to hear more
about your vibrator. Do you give it a name?”

“A name?”

“Yeah, like Fred.”

“Why on earth would I name it
Fred?”

“I don’t know. You have to name it
something. Isn’t Fred a good name?”

“Maybe I should name it Declan.”

He’s stunned for a second and bursts
out laughing. I honestly can’t believe I just said that. I could die of embarrassment,
but it’s so funny that I start laughing too.

“It’s not a pet,” I finally say.
“I don’t have to name it.”

“I don’t know.” He appears to
ponder this. “I think Declan has a nice ring to it.”

“Yes, it’s very nice,” I say, my
voice droll. I glance over at him and when our eyes meet they catch. We’re both
smiling, but the longer we gaze at each other the mood changes. I know I should
make another joke, lighten things up, but I can’t find it within me. It’s like
I want something from him, something that’s hard to name and I’m not even sure
what it is, but I get the feeling he wants it too.

He shakes his head slowly. “Kate.” 

The television is still blathering,
the movie lost to us now. I pick up the bowl of popcorn and put it on the
coffee table. When I turn back towards him, he’s still watching me. I move in closer.

“Don’t start anything you don’t
plan to finish,” he says quietly, the Irish in his voice strong.

This stops me in my tracks. I
think about the last time we were in a similar situation and the way I ended it.
I feel embarrassed now. I’ve never been a tease or insincere and I would never
want to hurt him or lead him on. What am I doing? This isn’t the reason I came
here. Declan’s been a good friend to me and he deserves better.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t know
what’s come over me.” I stare at the television for a while. When Declan
doesn’t say anything I glance at him, thinking maybe he’s watching the movie,
but he isn’t, he’s watching me. I don’t look away and we’re right back where we
were. I have this intense desire to touch him and the thought of it is making
my pulse race. But then I remember how this isn’t right. I’m involved with Ben
and I don’t want to screw that up. “I have to go,” I say abruptly.

He puts his head back on the
couch, nodding.

For a moment I don’t say anything.
“Are you angry with me?”

“No. I’m not angry with you. Don’t
worry,” he smiles, “it’s all good.”

“Okay, thanks for dinner.”

“Anytime.”

***

When I get back home, I’m relieved
to find Ben sitting on my front porch. It’s pretty late and I’m surprised to
see him.

“How long have you been waiting
here?” I ask.

“Not long. I tried your cell and
when you didn’t answer I figured I’d come over.”

“Oh.” I forgot all about my phone.
I keep it in my purse, but didn’t even hear it ring.

“Where were you?”

“A friend’s house.”

He nods. “Listen, I don’t want to
fight anymore.”

“Me either.”

“Good.” He seems relieved. “Let’s
just forget about what happened last Sunday—okay?”

I’m tempted to point out that he
jumped to some awful conclusions about me, but then I think—who cares? What
matters is that Ben is here now. He came back.

“I missed you,” he says. “It’s
been a long week without you.”

Our eyes meet and I can’t hide my
smile. “I missed you too. Do you want to come inside?”

We get ready for bed, both of us
slipping into our routine from years ago. Lying in each other’s arms, I think
about all the stages couples go through and how Ben and I are going through
them at a lightening pace. We’re already at the sweep-it-under-the-rug stage.

A few days later
I wake up
to the sound of Ben’s phone alarm going off at five in the morning. I never get
up before seven, but Ben is already awake. He’s not in bed and I’m sure if I go
out there I’ll find him in the living room doing jumping jacks and push-ups and
probably pole vaulting over my couch.

After taking a shower, I venture
out hoping to discover a pot of fresh coffee brewing. Instead Ben is on the phone,
nodding agreeably. He’s drinking a glass of his homemade swamp juice and smiles
when he sees me. I’m feeling surly for having gotten up early, but manage to
smile back.

He hangs up the phone. “Good news.
I’m allowed to bring a free guest with me to the Y.”

“How nice.” Though I haven’t a
clue as to what he’s talking about.

“I think you’ll really like it.
They have a great facility and it’s a lot less then what you’re paying for that
overpriced gym downtown.”

“What?” It suddenly dawns on me where
he’s going with this. “You want me to go to the YMCA?”

“Of course.” He motions towards
the kitchen counter. “I made you a breakfast smoothie.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, glancing over
at the glass. Ben waits expectantly, so I get up and bring it over to my
leopard chair. I tuck my legs beneath myself and take a small sip. It tastes
awful. “I like my gym,” I finally say.

“I know, but the Y is so much
better. Plus we can go together, so I’ll be able to help you work on a few
things.”

“Oh, yeah.”

My fat gut and thunder thighs. I
feel a flash of anger. Why can’t Ben accept me as I am? It’s not like I’m actually
fat or anything. And even if I was, so what? Don’t
I
matter? But then my
eyes wander over to him. He’s perfect. And this is the price for all that male perfection.
The gym I go to downtown is sort of expensive, but it has everything—juice bar,
espresso bar, free platters of fresh fruit, bagels, and muffins they put out
every morning. The equipment is all clean and state of the art. I always feel
so pampered. They have massage therapists, nutritionists, and hairstylists.
They even offer cool classes like pole dancing and boxing for women. Not that
I’ve ever taken any of those classes or used the services, mind you, but I like
knowing they’re available. Plus the men that go there are all financially
solvent. Of course this doesn’t matter now since I’m with Ben. 

I sigh. “Okay, I’ll go with you to
the Y.”

***

I haven’t been to a YMCA since my
student days at Pratt, when I used to use the gym in Brooklyn. Pratt has its
own athletic facilities, but I had friends who thought it was cooler to use the
Y, so I’d tag along with them. I’m relieved to see the one Ben goes to is much
nicer than what I remember from Brooklyn. It looks clean and fairly well
maintained, though the snob in me notices there are no juice or espresso bars
and definitely no free muffins. Ben shows me around a little so I know where
things are, and then I agree to meet him after I put my bag away in the women’s
locker room. It’s early in the morning and there are a lot of people about,
most of them getting ready for work. I find an empty locker for my stuff,
getting out my iPod and water bottle, before cramming everything else inside.

For a few minutes I wander around
lost, but then I find Ben in a large room full of treadmills talking to a
couple of women. They’re both in their mid-forties, average looking, and a bit
overweight.

“Here she is.” Ben grins when I
come over and stand next to him. “This is my girlfriend, Kate.”

“Hello.” I give a small wave,
smiling at the two of them. For some reason they’re both staring at me.

“This is Linda and Juliet, two of
my workout partners,” Ben says. “They keep me on my toes, let me tell you. I
don’t know what I’d do without them.”

“As if.” Linda is studying me. I
notice she’s wearing a full face of makeup, in fact, they both are. “Ben
doesn’t need any help from us as I’m sure you must know, being his girlfriend
and all. We didn’t even know he had a girlfriend. What a surprise.” She
playfully grabs Bens arm. “You’ve been a bad boy, holding out on us! And this
is after we took you out for Chinese last week.”

As he’s chuckling, I try to make sense
of this situation. Ben had dinner with these women? I notice Juliet is not
laughing though and is gawking at me as if I’ve just peed on her birthday cake.
While I’m trying to figure things out, a third woman comes up to us. She’s about
my age, has overly dyed blonde hair, and also has a full face of makeup. Believe
me, I have no problem with lots of makeup, but at the gym? I feel underdressed.
Who knew I needed eyeliner and lipstick to go workout at the YMCA?

“Hey, you guys!” she says out of
breath. “I’ve been stuck in traffic on the bridge for the last half hour. I
tell you, it’s a zoo out there!” They all laugh like this is a really funny
joke. I laugh politely with them. “I’m glad to see you waited and didn’t start
without me.” She looks at me curiously.

“Rochelle, this is Ben’s
girlfriend
Kate,” Linda says introducing me.

An odd expression comes over her
face. “Oh, hello.” She seems deflated somehow and again I’m not sure why I’m
getting this strange reaction.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I say
cheerfully, hoping to somehow convey that I’m a nice person, despite my lack of
war paint.

We all head over to some empty
treadmill machines and Ben explains to me how the women try to put in a few
miles, though he goes for at least five miles. The important thing, he
explains, is that they try to keep each other motivated.

“I see.” Though I really don’t see
at all. I put the earbuds for my iPod in place, but Ben looks at me
disapprovingly.

“You’re going to listen to music?”

“Of course, is there a problem?”

“Well, like I said we try to keep
each other motivated and you won’t be able to hear us if you’re wearing that.”

“Oh, let the poor girl listen to
her music,” Linda says.

Rochelle nods. “Yes, we don’t
mind.”

Despite all this, Ben is clearly
looking at me with an expression that indicates he
does
mind. “Uh, it’s
okay,” I say. “I don’t have to wear them.”

We all start on the treadmills
together in a row with Ben in the middle, Rochelle on his right, me on his
left, and then Linda and Juliet on the outside. It feels strange, since I
typically work out alone. When Ben wanted me to come with him today this isn’t
at all what I imagined.

As the five of us are marching
along together, Linda suddenly yells out, “Woo hoo! I’ve gone a quarter of a mile!”
And the others chant, “Go Linda, go Linda, GO!” Then shortly after that Juliet bursts
out that she’s gone a half a mile and they all chant again. “Go Juliet, go
Juliet, GO!”

As I’m looking around at everyone wide
eyed in disbelief, Ben grins at me. “See how great this is? Aren’t you glad you
didn’t use your iPod?”

I nod, trying to smile. It’s like
I’ve stumbled onto some religious cult. I keep glancing at them wondering if
they know how silly this is, but apparently not, because they all have serious
expressions on their faces.

As I’m trying not to laugh, Ben yells
out, “Woo hoo! I’ve gone one mile!” And everyone starts in with the “Go Ben, go
Ben, GO!”  It’s difficult to believe that Ben does this on a regular basis.
Admittedly he was always a dork, but come on. It’s just him and these three
women? And they do this almost every day?

I feel Ben’s eyes on me
expectantly. I glance down at my treadmill distance. “I’m almost at a mile!” I
yell out and everybody chants, “Go Kate, go Kate, GO!” With Ben chanting the
loudest. I turn to him and he’s grinning at me with the zealous approval of a
TV evangelist. And what can I say? I’m thrilled he’s so pleased with me.

The five of us keep the yelling
and chanting up for about forty-five minutes. By now Ben is running on the
treadmill, though the rest of us are still walking. I’m relieved when it’s
finally over. Not because I’m worn out, but because I feel ridiculous.

After the treadmill Linda and
Juliet say they’re heading off to work, but Rochelle and I follow Ben into the
weight room. I usually use weight machines, but Ben wants me to switch to using
free weights, claiming I’ll get better results. Apparently Rochelle is a convert
and knows her way around the weights pretty well. I’m still trying to figure
out her story. There’s something going on here, but I don’t know what it is.

Ben grabs a couple of dumbbells
for me and then helps me get started, watching my form in the mirror. It’s not
bad, but harder than what I usually do. After I get the moves down he goes over
to one of the weight benches and works on his own reps. Rochelle comes over to
me.

“Ben is quite a catch. You must be
thrilled.”

“I suppose.” I glance at her. It
strikes me as a weird thing to say. Not that Ben isn’t a ‘catch,’ but it sounds
calculated or something.

She gives me a sly look. “How did
you manage it?”

“I’m not sure what you’re asking
me.”  

“Oh, I think you know.”

I put my weights down. I’d like to
tell her that it’s none of her business. But then I realize she’s friends with
Ben, so I should be nice. I tell her we used to date and have a history
together. She acts relieved for some reason, though I can’t imagine why.

Ben comes back over to us,
checking on my progress. He sets me up with a barbell and shows me how to do a
squat with it. Rochelle is doing the same exercise and he tells me to watch
her.

“It’s hard,” he says, “but it’s
really good for your glutes and you’ll get fast results.”

“Oh, but I like it hard,
real
hard,” Rochelle says grinning at Ben.

He gives her a stiff smile and
then turns back to me. “This doesn’t feel too heavy does it?”

I’m staring at Rochelle,
realization dawning on me. She’s obviously got a thing for Ben. I can’t believe
I didn’t see it earlier. “No, it’s fine,” I say. “No problem at all.”