Page 2 of When Ben Loved Tim
Allison is game as always. “So has Blue Shoes seen you on your skates yet?”
“First of all,” I say in mock sternness, “it’sMisterBlue Shoes. We’re not on a first name basis yet. And yes, my little scheme paid off just the other night.” I figured I’d have a better chance of keeping up with him that way. Suddenly taking an interest in jogging felt too obvious, so I dusted off a pair of skates my parents had given me for my sixteenth birthday. I’d told them I wanted wheels, but not a car, since I’m a terrible driver. Skates sounded fun. Unfortunately, they bought the inline variety, and I never really got the hang of them. Now I’m highly motivated to try again.
“Paid off how?” Allison asked after hitting the turn signal.
“It was incredibly hot,” I assure her. “I was skating down the sidewalk, and Mr. Blue Shoes was running toward me. When we got close enough to pass each other, I tried to swerve out of his way, but uh.. You know how I am. He ended up jogging through the grass to avoid me while I kept going, pinwheeling my arms like an idiot while trying to regain my balance. So what is that? First base? Second?”
Allison laughs. “Did you manage to turn around and follow him?”
“I can barely stop on those things. Turning around is beyond my abilities. But he was running in this direction so…”
We both look out the windows, as if expecting to see him. The neighborhood we’re driving through is full of newly constructed homes with three-car garages. I’m not impressed. The trees in each yard are thin and spindly, as if they’d been injected there, like a landscaper’s version of a hair transplant. Each house is a template, one of a handful of cookie-cutter shapes that are only distinguished by beige or gray paint. I suppose our own neighborhood isn’t so different, but decades of families living there and adding personal touches has given it charm and character.
“Do you remember when this was all a field?” Allison asks longingly. “We used to play here!”
“Yeah,” I reply, even though it’s a revised version of history that we both willingly adhere to. The truth is that Allison used to be friends with my sister, Karen. So yes, we were around each other as kids, and by default, we sometimes interacted or even played together. But it wasn’t until Karen started high school and decided that she couldn’t be seen with Allison—who was a year younger and still in junior high—that things really changed. Especially after my own best friend moved away. Ever since then it’s been me and her, and it feels so much better that it’s easy to forget our actual—
“Ben!” Allison says suddenly, grabbing my arm in excitement. “Is that him? It has to be! He’s got the shoes and everything!”
I see a guy mowing the lawn and instantly know that she’s right. I could have identified him by silhouette alone. My pulse picks up in excitement.
“Should I pull over?” Allison asks as the car begins to swerve toward the curb.
“No!” I slide down in my seat, as low as I can manage. “Keep driving!”
“What?” Allison asks in confusion. The car continues to slow. “How come?”
“Just do it!” I hiss. “Please!”
The car moves back to the center of the lane, but as we pass Mr. Blue Shoes, Allison is staring openly. “Mm-mm-mm!” she says as if offered a slice of delicious pie. “I can see why you’re so obsessed. If he’s straight…”
“It’ll break my heart,” I tell her, pushing myself up to a normal height again.
“So what’s the game plan here?” Allison asks. “You’re going to talk to him, right?”
“Now?” I ask incredulously. “No way!”
She narrows her eyes at me. “So what are you gonna do? Wait until night and hide across the street from his house, so you can keep admiring him from afar?”
“We’ve gotten close before,” I say in my defense.
“Fine, so you’ve admired him from not-so far, which isn’t much better. Make your move!”
“How?”
The car pulls over to the side of the street. “I don’t know, but you’re about to figure it out.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, my panic already rising.
“I’m pushing you out of the nest,” Allison says, nodding at the door on my side. “Go on now.”
“But—” I try.
“I’ve been listening to you talk about this guy nonstop for weeks now. And driving around so you can find him. I didnotdo all of that for nothing.”
“Okay,” I say, reaching for the door handle with a sweaty palm.
Allison puts her hand on my shoulder. “You’ve got this, Ben. You’re cute, you’re smart, and if I could turn myself into a gay man, you’d never be single again. I’m not the only one who will feel that way. I promise. You’ve just got to put yourself out there.”
