Set the World to Mute

Ben is 32.

I am 22.

Ten years. A decade. The average lifespan of a domestic ferret. The difference between Madonna and grunge. Beatles and Pink Floyd. Landlines and cellphones.

Ben was ten years old when I was an infant. He had taken his first steps long before my parents even thought about me, said his first words, and started school, and made friends and grown hair and probably even had his first crush. I wonder who she was. How she was.

He was 22, as I am now, when I was 12. I was hormonal and difficult, and I had black hair and cared about Westlife and A1, and was dating Bo. I fought with my friends and yelled at my mother. Ben was in college, and was two years away from being a father.

I had no idea who he was and what he would become.

Today, Friday, I'm standing outside their door, in shorts and a sweater, my coat hanging over my arm, biting my lip. I wish I could tell you that Monday, the day after Sophie's birthday, was one big love fest, with long glances and almost touches, but everything was just as they'd always been. Sort of.

Except that Ben seemed a bit cheerier. A bit more open. More present, I suppose.

I hang my coat in the hallway, as I always do, and silently walk in on a sweet little scene. Ben with a homemade crown on his head, Emma on one side and Sophie on the other, all of them watching TV together. For once the radio is left off.

"Hey," I say.

"Hello," Sophie says, Ben nods. "It's daddy's birthday today! He's old."

Ben's brows raise and I laugh. "I know. Happy birthday, Ben." He accepts with a dimples smile and a nod, almost looking ill at ease. I've noticed he doesn't like attention too much, it's very sweet. I cross the room and sit down on the arm of their couch, bringing my hands to touch Sophie's soft hair. "And he's not that old, only 9 and a half years old than I am." My eyes linger by Ben's as the lines around his eyes deepen slightly.

"Well, you're old too," Sophie reasons making Ben's brows rise further, and then she gives me a very grave look. "Well, aren't you gonna give him a hug? You have to hug when it's someone's birthday. It's the most important day of their life, you know."

Ben smiles at the back of her head and I rise and put my hands on my hips, swaying them. "Well, I apologize," I say, giving Ben a correctional look, "Where are my manners? Of course a hug is in order."

I love you Sophie.

Ben gives a tiny smile as I walk over, giving me a unreadable look through his bambi-lashes. "Happy birthday," I mumble, and Ben's arms snake around my waist as I bend down to wrap mine around his shoulders. My cheek rests against his warm neck for a second. "I hope your day has been good."

As I pull back, he meets my eyes with a mirthful look and gives my hip a light shove, and I fall into place in the couch between him and Sophie, my right arm behind his neck on the back of the couch, and my thigh slightly overlapping his. I almost die when his hand coincidentally goes to rest on his leg, his little finger lightly grazing my exposed upper thigh. I can't tell if he meant for that to happen, as when I look at him his eyes are fixated on the screen. I bite my lip and lean my head back, almost resting it on his shoulder, reveling in his scent.

"What are we watching?" I ask quietly, and Sophie sighs.

"Sponge-Bob, duh." She's obviously not very impressed with my knowledge of cartoons.

Ben and I simultaneously let out a breath of laughter. "Right," I whisper, and dare myself to inch my head a little closer to his body.

We sit like that for almost the entire night, only interrupted by me smacking together something to eat, until Sophie's head starts to droop and I take her head and lead her into the bathroom to get her ready to sleep. "Do you think daddy had a nice time, today?" she asks me as I brush her hair.

"I do," I say and she smiles. We didn't do much, but Ben took the day off to spend with his kids and I think he was quite content with hanging out on the couch all day. He didn't strike me as the type who liked to make a lot of fuss. Sophie willingly goes to bed for once, demanding only one song, and as I come back into the living room, Emma has been tucked in as well.

Ben is on the couch again, watching TV. His arm hanging off the back of the couch, his pose telling me he's tired. I sense it's been a long week. Mentally I climb into the sofa next to him, wrapping my body around his, resting my head on his shoulder.

"So," I say, and hover by the couch. "I guess it's time for me to go." He nods and gets up to follow me to the door. My brain is cooking as I pull on my coat, getting ready to leave. Ben hands me my bag as I'm all set.

"Well, I hope your day has been nice." He nods and smiles, scratching the back of his neck and stretching before giving me a thumb up. We are silent for a second as I bite my lip, feeling my pulse rise at how close he is, and he smiles down at me.

"Happy 32nd, then," I say quietly and close the gap between us with a little step, bringing my body to meet his. He part his lips slightly in surprise, and his hard body tenses up, his arms involuntarily finding their way to the skin between my shorts and my sweater. I give the tiniest of smiles, and press my lips against his in a soft little kiss, lasting for no more than two loud heartbeats. I can feel his heart against my chest, banging calmly. As I pull back slightly, he looks down at me with a confused look on his face. I let a smile play on my features for a moment, and his brows furrow, a tiny smile tugging at the edges of his mouth.

"Goodnight," I say, stealing another little kiss which he doesn't refuse me, and I turn on my heel, leaving the apartment.