Take A Picture (It'll Last Longer)

Ben and I had been fake married a month. We had the people from Immigration call us and set up a little meeting to check up on us in a few weeks, which seemed to be shorter than Ben and I had thought. We had to be married six months though, before Ben could get his green card but after the checked us out to make sure everything was “real”, we didn’t really have to bother with them again until they sent Ben his green card. I, of course, was freaking out over whether or not we could be convincing enough for the Immigration people to believe while Ben was perfectly calm. Still, Ben is the one who has been able to sweet talk the cops out of giving him speeding tickets nine times out of ten and on the tenth time, he can usually talk the judge into dismissing the charges. I don’t know where he learned how to sweet talk authority figures like he does, but it’s a talent I wish I had.

“Why are you cleaning? They aren’t coming for three weeks!” Ben said, annoyed.

“I just want to make sure everything looks okay,” I sighed. “I don’t like the apartment looking like a sty to begin with…”

“Lemme guess… it never looked like a sty before a certain pig moved in?” Ben frowned.

“No,” I snorted. “Dirk was always over and he’s a much bigger pig than you. In more ways than one.”

“I don’t want to know what ways you’re talking about,” Ben shook his head.

“Not that!” I said, throwing a pillow at him. Well, it was a throw pillow. How it’s supposed to be used is implied in the name. “You have such a dirty mind!”

“Well, you’ve already called me a pig, so I guess my mind is just a side effect of my environment,” Ben replied. “You know, all that mud and slop gets to you after a while…”

“Come on, Ben,” I rolled my eyes. “You’ve probably never seen a live pig in your entire life!”

“Yes I have!” Ben snorted. “I bet you haven’t!”

“Yes I have!” I growled. “Remember when you took me to Des Moines to see my uncle? His farm had like twenty pigs on it! You said that they smelled as bad as Rob Schneider’s acting.”

“Oh right,” Ben said, scrunching up his nose in remembrance.

“You’ve probably never seen a pig before,” I snorted.

“Yes I have!” Ben said. “I used to see pigs all the time."

“Where? Watching you parents’ friends?” I laughed

“Not just my parents’ friends,” Ben shook his head. “I grew up in the country. There were pigs and cows and sheep and goats all over the place.”

“I didn’t know you grew up in the country,” I said to him, sitting down next to him on the couch.

“Yup,” Ben nodded proudly.

“Was it on a farm?” I asked him.

“Not really,” Ben shook his head. “But a lot of the kids who lived in the areas lived on farms.”

“I never pictured you as a hillbilly,” I laughed.

“I wasn’t a hillbilly!” Ben said, annoyed. “It was in the lowlands.”

“You never talk about growing up,” I said to Ben curiously.

“I don’t like to talk about it,” Ben shrugged. I had a feeling that was a hint that he wanted to change the subject, but I didn’t take it.

“Why is that?” I asked him.

“Because I didn’t enjoy it,” he frowned.

“A lot of people had sucky childhoods,” I shrugged. “I’m sure yours wasn’t the most horrible childhood ever. I mean, with Charlie Manson, Jeffery Dahmer, and all those other serial killer people in the mix, your childhood was probably a piece of cake.”

“I know,” Ben sighed, “but I still don’t like thinking about it.”

“Why was it so bad?” I asked him, wondering why he didn’t want to tell me.

“My parents were sort of oppressive,” Ben shrugged. “I think it’s why my sister is so wild and I… I just always wanted to get away.”

“Oppressive? Like religious zealots?” I asked him curiously.

“More like my mother’s favorite phrase has always been ‘that’s just not how things are done’,” Ben shrugged. “I picked up the wrong spoon at a dinner party once when I was eleven and was grounded for a whole week.”

“So more like a dictator of your social behavior,” I nodded.

“I was glad to go away to school because I didn’t have to see them and then to college… and then once I came here,” Ben sighed. “I don’t think my life really began until I started going to Northwestern. It’s why I didn’t want to leave Chicago and move back to England when I graduated. I finally felt like I could live my life the way I wanted here.”

“So, you’re happy?” I asked him.

“Yeah,” Ben smiled at me.

I snuggled up against him, something I had sort of gotten used to doing over the past month. Most of the time, Ben and I would wake up all cuddled together in bed and the sheets would feel so good, we would just sit and talk to each other for a few minutes before getting up and getting ready to go to work or whatever. Snuggling up against him was starting to seem normal, which was subconsciously starting to worry me. If I grew too dependent on him now, I wasn’t sure if I could cope at the end of six months when everything would be so unceremoniously called off.

The two of us were quiet for a moment, Ben’s arms sort of snaking around me so the two of us were just cuddled up together on the couch. The TV wasn’t on or anything, it was just us sitting together. Ben rested his chin on top of my head then tilted his head to his check was resting on the top of it. It felt so natural, a perfect fit, and I knew that I had to do or say something before it became so natural that I did something stupid. Like profess my undying affection to him or something else I was pretty sure I wasn’t that sincere about.

“What about your dad? You never talk about him,” I said to Ben curiously.

“He’s just a father,” Ben shrugged.

“But what is he like?” I asked him. “You talk about your mother… well, you complain about her mostly… but what are your parents like?”

“Why do you wanna know?” Ben asked me worriedly.

“Well, you don’t have any pictures of them, which is doubly odd because you’re a photographer and all. Not to mention that you never talk about them,” I shrugged. “And you see my parents all the time, so it’s only fair that I should want to know a little bit about yours.”

“They aren’t that interesting,” Ben said.

“Why won’t you tell me about them?” I demanded to know.

“I just don’t like talking about them, okay?” Ben sighed.

“What? Are you ashamed of them or something?” I asked him.

“Phff,” Ben snorted. “If anything, they’re ashamed of me.”

“Why would they be ashamed of you? You do excellent work… you’re probably the smartest photographer we have on staff…” I began.

“They’re ashamed of me because I didn’t turn out the way they wanted, okay?” Ben sighed. “They didn’t want me to be a photographer. They didn’t want me to leave England.”

“What did they want you to be?” I asked Ben. “Like a lawyer or something?”

“They wanted me to be perfect and I’m not.” Ben said, aggravated. “I just couldn’t make them happy.”

“That’s horrible,” I said, aghast.

“That’s why I didn’t want to talk about it,” Ben said grumpily. “I just can’t be perfect.”

“No, it’s not horrible that you’re not perfect. God, if you were I’d feel completely inadequate and useless,” I shook my head. “It’s horrible they treat you that way. You’re much better than that?”

“You really think so?” Ben asked me, his eyes shining with an emotion I couldn’t identify.

“I know so,” I nodded. “Besides, do you think I would have married someone, even just for six months, if I thought they were worthless garbage?”

“I guess not,” Ben shrugged. “But worthless garbage does seem to be in. Look at K-Fed and all the dudes with those Kardashian… I want to say women, but I’m not entirely convinced.”

“Point taken,” I laughed. “And you’re parents have no idea what they’re missing out on. Have you ever given them what for?”

“Why all these inquiries into my personal life, Catt?” Ben asked me.

“I just want to know more about you,” I shrugged. “You know basically everything about me.”

“I bet I don’t,” Ben snorted.

“Yeah right,” I rolled my eyes.

“I bet you can think of at least one thing you’ve never told me before about yourself,” Ben said. “Go on. Try. See if you can’t think of anything.” I closed my eyes and thought really hard.

“Okay, I’ve thought of something,” I smiled, “but if I tell you, that’ll be one more thing you know about me.”

“Just tell me,” Ben smiled.

“Okay, when I was ten, I won the class spelling bee and I went to the school spelling bee and won that too,” I said, “then at regionals, I was worried about going to state because I didn’t want to put all that time and effort into studying. Plus, everyone was starting to brand me a dork for being in all these spelling bees. So when I became my turn at regionals, I purposely misspelled platypus so I didn’t have to go to state.” Ben laughed at that.

“You? At a spelling bee? Is there home video?” Ben laughed.

“I think I had my mother destroy it,” I said with a laugh.

“Smart decision,” Ben nodded.

“What about you?” I asked Ben pulling away from his arms a little to look into his face.

“What about me?” Ben asked in the same tone I had just used.

“Tell me one thing about yourself you’ve never told me before,” I said to him.

“Do I have to?” Ben moaned.

“I just did!” I protested.

“One thing?” Ben asked.

“Just one,” I nodded.

“Can it be anything?” He asked.

“Sure,” I shrugged.

“Even something gross?” Ben asked.

“Not too gross,” I laughed. He sat back and thought for a moment. “Is it that hard to come up with something?”

“Shush! I’m thinking!” Ben said to me, annoyed. I growled and leaned back against him. “Okay. I’ve got it.”

“What?” I asked him looking at him. Suddenly, he seemed like he didn’t want to tell me anymore. “What is it?”

“One thing I’ve never told you before?” Ben said.

“Yes!” I sighed. “Is it that hard a concept to grasp?”

“Can you let me get it out?” Ben asked, annoyed.

“Fine,” I said looking at him.

“I’ve never told you before,” Ben said, “that I think you’ve got the prettiest eyes of anyone I’ve ever met.”

That threw me off guard, mainly because no one had ever said anything so nice to me before in my entire life. I wasn’t sure what to say back to him because what he said left me completely stunned. Ben was starting to look like he regretting coming forward with something to private and that could so obviously set him up for getting hurt. In my mind, I thought that my lips should form the words “thank you” and the entire business would be done with. In fact, my brain was so busy trying to form some sort of response that it didn’t notice that my lips were already sort of preoccupied. Kissing Ben.