Ben's visit, pt 1

[just_cyd]

The red suitcase sat open next to the TV, blocking the furnace room, and cutting the corner on the path from the hallway through the front room. I know the maneuver well by now, but Ben stumbled a bit as he mis-stepped for the first of many times in his 72 hour visit.

"Going somewhere?" he asked, nodding to the pile of tossed clean laundry spilling out of the suitcase.

"got home yesterday," I reminded him, "and my next trip is in a few weeks. No point in dragging the thing upstairs when the magic happens right there," gesturing to the laundry closet across from the hall bath.

I grabbed us drinks - fridge water - while he settled into the couch, not stripping down like he used to. When we first met, and he'd come visit, first order of business was to strip off everything he could and still remain decent: shoes and socks; watch; wedding ring; earrings; glasses. He told me much later that it was a sign of how comfortable he was in my home, with me, that he could pare down to just the essentials.

"not stripping for me anymore, eh?" I teased, and it took him a beat to catch what I meant. I didn't push the issue; a lot has changed since those early weekend slumber parties. Twice divorced meant no more wedding ring, and the other jewelry he now wears has meanings I'm unsure of, but still I cleared him a spot for glasses (plural: readers and regular) and cell phone and whatever other talisman he may carry with him these days. His nest was crafted in short order, and I knew then that he was comfortable here.

This visit was his idea: HE wanted to come see ME, spending part of his spring break up in Ohio with his old friend. I'm not his oldest friend (but I AM older); school mates have me beat there by a good decade or two. But he's my oldest friend. "Oldest living friend" I always correct myself, silently, not wanting to offend him.

His flight was early, and I had to race the 4.6 miles to get there and not leave him waiting too long. I'd just passed him on my first loop, but spotted him quickly on the second, throwing the car into park to hop out and tackle-hug him somewhere between Departures and Arrivals. Dayton is not a big airport. Emotions exploded and tears threatened to follow as he dropped his suitcase and wrapped himself around me in a hug not unlike last time. While I gathered myself and he gathered his bags, we stuffed everything including ourselves into my car, and buckled in for the long drive home. Passing the first strip mall, across the highway from the airport, he remarked that he didn't recall ever seeing my town.

"That's because when you came to see me, we never went anywhere, except for that party and the wedding," hoping he'd remember those two significant life events. "Hell, half the time I'd nearly forget to feed you!" I laughed, a catch in my voice.

Then, with purpose: "Vodka. If you want it tonight, we should get that now. It's Sunday in Ohio, and I don't know how late the State Store is open." As we pulled into that little strip mall, I let him know that were were just a couple more miles from a Cane's, should he want to do that for dinner.

"Cane's! I haven't had that since Utah! Be right back!" and he hopped out of the car and into the State Liquor Agency-slash-carry out. I think other states call them ABC or Package stores. The sign said it was open until 9pm, and by his quick exit with package in hand, it appeared Sunday liquor sales were indeed allowed. Fading Blue Laws?

~*~*~*~*~*
After an hour or so of initial catching up, Ben agreed that dinner would be good, Cane's would be great, and that he'd be treating me as a thank you for hosting him. We drove over the dam and down Bridgewater, which was more direct than taking the interstate. Getting into the parking lot was its own special hell, but not the worst I've seen. "too many things crammed into too little real estate" I mused, gesturing to all of the out lots that had sprung up in front of the long-established strip malls. I tried my usual tricks to relieve him from paying for my food, but he's known me too long, and in the end won that battle. The Texas toast was good, the chicken was tasty, but the jury's still out on their Cane's sauce: not terrible, just not the WOW I was anticipating. I'm sure the slaw was good as well.

Dinner conversation turned to bookstores, and did we have any? We had the Dollar Book Swap with limited hours, and Barnes & Noble that closed in just about an hour. It was Barnes & Noble he wanted right then, to look for anything new on Pedro.

Ben is obsessed with Pedro Pascal, no two ways about it. It's adorable, actually. Calls him "my imaginary boyfriend," so I started using that term for D. I'm quick to remind Ben, however, that D knows my name and has seen me well over a dozen times now. Obsession, fascination, whatever you want to call it, he's not hurting anyone with it, and besides, it's great to see him so giggly and animated over someone.

We got to the bookstore with about 30 minutes to shop, and he made a beeline to the magazines. the main rack against the far wall was quickly scanned and dismissed, and he found the freestanding rack of special issues. I nearly knocked him down when he stopped dead in his tracks and gasped aloud.

"What?! Are you OK?" on alert for trouble.
"sigh, isn't he beautiful?" came the reply in a dreamy breathless lilt of a lovesick teen, not a fifty-something man.
"but I already have that one." Another sigh. "And that one too," showing me the oversized single-subject glossy magazine featuring the very attractive Chilean-born actor. While I do not share Ben's obsession, I can appreciate Pascal's attractiveness, and his alliance with beliefs that mirror our own. Besides, it made me happy to see him this happy.

We wandered on through the bookstore, no real plans in mind save the desire to not get sucked in my corporate marketing or a pretty cover. We weren't the last ones out the door, but we did linger past the first warning, and succeeded in leaving empty-handed. I drove us home back roads to show off more of the area, the town I'm happy to call home mostly when I'm not here.

Back home, we were back to our couches, and chattered on into the night. After a minor skirmish over sleeping arrangements, I left him downstairs to the couch, and I took to my room. I woke to my alarm, and realized with a jolt that I'd not made any sort of arrangements for coffee. Ben found my instant stuff and made due with that, until I offered a cup of the real deal, which he happily accepted. My knockoff Keurig flummoxed him.

We sat and talked and drank coffee, neither of us making any move to initiate any sort of plans for the day. He did confess that he needed to do a final email check for work, as it was the last day of the semester, and he owed his students that final check before drawing the line in the sand as stated on his syllabus. I took that opportunity to cook us a proper meal - is it "brunch" when it's well past 1pm when you start pulling it together? I managed roasted potatoes and scrambled eggs, remembering to leave a few for the dinner I had planned. I took my time, and gave general updates on timing so as not to rush him. His email check had been warranted, as a student's Youtube submission had been removed for "hate speech," so an 11th hour alternate submission had to be made. He was able to wrap up his work just as I was plating our food, and he actually clapped in delight at me bringing him our meal. Again, it made me happy to see him so happy, even more so when he exclaimed how much he loved it when people cooked for him.