Take A Picture (It'll Last Longer)

I am in a pickle. Not literally in a pickle, as I am constantly trying to explain to my idiot assistant, Holly, but in a pickle none-the-less. I have been roommates with my best friend, Elle Winestock, since college at Northwestern University, but now she’s moved in with her boyfriend Dirk. Dirk is about as dumb as the name his parents gave him yet Dirk Dellinger remains the most popular sportscaster on Channel 16 for some reason. Anyway, since Elle is gone off to live Dirk, who I secretly loathe, I have no roommate; ergo I don’t know how I’m going to make up the money for the rent of my fabulous apartment.

I could ask Cornelia Hayes, the writer whose office is next to mine here at Chicago Magazine, but Cornelia is a total neat freak and I am a tad disorganized. Fine, okay. I’m a complete slob. Happy? So, Cornelia has been ruled out. I could ask Holly, but I can barely stand how vapid and pathetic she is at work. Yesterday, I had to explain to her that Pink Floyd is not the name of the drummer; it is the name of the band. Seriously, she thought the drummer’s name was Pink Floyd! I thought everyone knew it was Nick Mason. Anyway, I couldn’t deal with Holly’s inability to grasp simple pop culture concepts and her freaky obsession with pieces of lint randomly floating across the room.

I was almost to the point of opening up my rolodex and asking random people I semi-know to move in when Ben burst into my office. Okay, more like Ben stumbled. Ben pretty much stumbles everywhere he goes, not because he’s drunk either. He just doesn’t have the best sense of balance. Ben is my photographer and we’ve been working together since our junior year at Northwestern. He and his fellow photographer/roommate, Kip Vedder (no relation to Eddie), are known at Chicago Magazine as “the dream team” because they can get a good picture of anything, no matter how ludicrous, gross, or unexciting it is.

“You look like hell,” I said to him.

“Good thing you can’t smell me,” Ben replied with that impish grin he’s famous for.

Another thing about Ben: he’s British. He doesn’t talk about growing up in England or his parents. Kip says Ben and his parents don’t get along. Ben had to some crazy arm twisting so they would let him come to Northwestern U here in the States and then they practically disowned him for staying here in Chicago. Kip also says that Ben had an ultra-bad breakup with his British girlfriend, Brigit, who he thought he was going to marry or something. Ben’s sophomore year at King’s College, Brigit ran off with some gypsies or a Spaniard or slept with all the guys on his dorm floor or something like that and it scarred Ben so bad, he hasn’t gotten close to a woman since. Well, Ben and I did go on a couple of dates our junior year, but we decided we’d be better off as friends. And we’re best friends.

“Did you get the pictures?” I asked him. It’s an obvious question with an obvious answer.

“Yeah,” Ben nodded, “but I don’t know why Chicago Mag wants you writing crap about the mayor opening up a domestic violence shelter. I mean, I’m all for stopping violence against women and Taking Back the Night, but you can write better stuff than that.” He began loading the pictures into my computer then sat on the edge of my desk like owns it. “So, Holly says you’re in a mood.”

“In a mood?” I repeat annoyed.

“Okay, her exact words were ‘wiggin’ me out’,” Ben replied.

“I’m not in a mood,” I said gruffly.

“Could fool me with that impression,” Ben snorted. “What’s wrong?”

“Elle’s moved in with Dirk the Jerk and so now I can’t afford my rent,” I replied, “and I love that apartment.”

“It’ll work out for you,” Ben shrugged confidently. Holly appeared at the door and sloppily tossed an envelope at Ben in that totally unprofessional way of hers.

“Mailroom says this is urgent,” Holly sighed before returning back to her desk to call up one of her girlfriends and talk about the guy she picked up at a bar last night. I swear, I catch Holly reading Cosmo more than I catch her actually taking my calls, which is what she is paid to do.

“I hope her internship is over soon,” I mumbled. Ben didn’t say anything. He was too busy staring down at the letter he had just received with wide eyes. I looked at him worriedly, “What’s up?”

“Bugger,” Ben hissed in annoyance, a word he didn’t actually use until Elle and I forced him to watch Pirates of the Caribbean. He slapped the letter against the side of my desk in anger.

“Who’s it from?” I asked. “Your parents?”

“Almost as bad,” Ben grimaced. “Immigration. Apparently, I forgot to reapply for my visa. They’re sending me back to England in three months. I can’t even reapply for a green card until after I’ve moved back home for six months!”

“You forgot to reapply for your visa? Ben! How could you be so stupid?” I said exasperatedly. “What made you forget to reapply for it in the first place?”

“Um… I was busy?” Ben said with a blush of embarrassment.

“Busy doing what?” I snorted. “Making your hair look like you just rolled out of bed?”

“Among other things,” Ben murmured.

“Ben, this isn’t going to work,” I said irritated. “You can’t go back to England! You have to stay here and take pictures for me, and stop me from murdering everyone we work with!”

“Well, Catt, you’ve always been the brains of this operation,” Ben replied. “You think of something for me to do!”

“Go tell Landon! He’s your editor. He can figure something out,” I suggested.

“Will do!” Ben nodded.

He strutted off, leaving me to write all the captions for his pictures, which he was supposed to do. Of course, he only gave me the bare minimum information to work with, as always. All I needed was another thing to add to my list of things I had to do. I made a few phone calls around for my new story then Ben stumbled back into my office again.

“Landon came up with a solution,” Ben said with a blush. When he blushes, his entire face turns the same color as tomato. I always have to struggle not to laugh.

“What did Landon suggest?” I replied.

“Um… Catt…” Ben gulped, “will you marry me?”

“What?!?” I screamed. He just stood there blankly. “Excuse me, Ben, I just thought you asked me to marry you…”

“Um… I did…” Ben said, his face covered in that lovely embarrassed tomato hue.

“That was Landon’s brilliant suggestion? That you marry an American citizen?” I said horrified. Ben was starting to look more annoyed than embarrassed.

“What’s wrong with marrying me?” Ben asked angrily.

“Nothing,” I sighed.

“I think I’m quite attractive,” Ben said.

“Of course you do,” I said tiredly. “Couldn’t Landon come up with anything better?”

“He said we could contest it, but I have two speeding tickets on my record which is enough to deport me as it is in this day and age,” Ben frowned. “They’d probably just send me back faster if I went to contest it. And I can’t put my life on hold for six months! Besides, but the time I can come back, they’ll have given my job to someone else, so it won’t be worth coming back in the first place! And if I do go back to England, I’ll never hear the end of it from my father about how I’m a total disgrace and…”

“And what’s in this for me?” I asked, softening a little bit to him. When Ben gets upset, he reminds me of a puppy out in the rain and I get all sympathetic towards him.

“Well, I’ll be forever in your debt,” Ben replied thoughtfully, “and I can desert Kip and move in with you so you don’t loose that fabulous apartment of yours…” That thought tempted me.

“Ben, it won’t work,” I shook my head. “The Immigration people come to check on you… They have to make sure we’re more happily married than the people on The Donna Reed Show. We have to prove we live together, we cope with married-people situations, that we have sex with each other…” Ben’s eyes lit up on that one and I slapped him upside the head.

“Ow,” Ben grumbled, “like you’re getting any to begin with…” I slapped him again, this time across the face. “Well, you haven’t been with anyone since Jon…”

Jon was this seemingly perfect guy I dated at Northwestern my senior year for eight months until I found out he was sleeping with my resident advisor. And my English 4020 professor. And the waitress at my favorite coffee shop. And half the Sigma Delta Nu sorority. And Elle’s then boyfriend’s married mother on the sly. I haven’t really had any since Jon three years ago. Ben says it’s because I have to learn to trust men again. I tell him to go be someone else’s Dr. Phil.

“You haven’t dated anyone since Brigit,” I remind him. Ben looked down at his feet embarrassedly and I felt really bad for bring up such a sore topic, so I changed the subject. “Ben, we can’t just get married for the hell of it! Marriage is serious business…” He started laughing at that.

“No it’s not!” Ben snorted. “Your parents got married to piss off their parents…”

“And because they were pregnant with me,” I added.

“But hundreds of people get married just for the hell of it! Look at Hollywood!” Ben continued. “That’s why the divorce rate is so high! We can just annul the entire thing once I get my green card!”

“It isn’t that simple, Ben,” I sighed. “We’ll have to not only lie to Immigration but we’ll have to pretend we’re madly in love with each other when we meet each other’s parents…”

“Whoa… who said anything about parents?” Ben snorted.

“My parents will want to see you if we get married because you’ll be their son-in-law and they’ll want to think we’re in love or something…” I began.

“What’s the problem with that? Your parents already think that you need to be married to me…” Ben pointed out cheekily. I slapped him a third time just for the hell of it. My mother had told him once she wanted the two of us to hook up and Ben won’t let me live it down.

“Okay, maybe my parents adore you, but don’t you think your parents might want to meet me?” I replied. Ben faltered for a second and looked like he was about to pass out.

“I guess, but we can bullshit our way through that…” Ben shrugged. I looked at him suspiciously.

“Do we want to bullshit our way through it?” I asked.

“Yes! Yes! A million times yes!” Ben replied vehemently. “I can’t go back to England! I’m so used to living here! I’m practically an American! I eat fast food and over consume petrol to the point of depleting the ozone beyond repair! Please, Catt! Please! I’m begging!” Just to prove how serious he was, Ben actually go down on his hands and knees, his hands clasped together. He had this pleading look across his face and I was having a hard time resisting.

“I don’t think we can do this,” I shook my head.

“Come on, Catt! Think of your apartment!” Ben pleaded, putting on his best puppy dog face.

“Ben…” I sighed.

“The apartment, Catt! You can save your apartment and you can save my life from descending into shambles…” Ben begged. “It’s a win-win!”

I bit my lip. Ben was desperate to stay in the country, I desperately needed a roommate, and I also had to get Ben out of my office so I could get back to the work that was piling up on my desk. Besides, Ben and I had gone out before and it hadn’t been so bad. Maybe things had changed between us. We were really close friends and I felt sort of obligated towards him.

“Fine, Ben. We’ll look into it, okay? You’ve got three months until they ship you back home anyway,” I sighed. Ben jumped up excitedly and threw his arms around me so tightly I couldn’t breathe. I patted the back of his head lightly and then gently shoved him off of me. “Okay, Ben. I have to get back to work and I think you do too. We’ll talk later.”

“Thanks Catt!” Ben grinned brightly before squeezing me, grabbing his camera, and running off. I sighed and turned to the work on my desk when the thought hit me:

Oh God… What did I just do?