Three Words

Sunday mornings, they have to be my favorite.

I pull on my flats and brush off my skirt. It’s early, a sunny 8:00, and Ben should be here any minute. He likes to take me out to the diners around town. I really do think it’s the sweetest thing, I like boys who know how to treat a girl to a nice breakfast. It makes me happy, how in just the little time we’ve been together, Ben has already picked up on what I like and what I don’t. In fact-the only reason he takes me out anyway is because he only takes me to places that have my favorite dish. If they don’t, he takes me by the shoulder and marches us straight out. 

A knock on my door wakes me up from the little daydreams of him and I. I run up to the door, flats slipping off my feet with each step and turn. In front of the door, I collect myself one last time, before turning its rusted knob to the side and finally seeing him-my Ben. Well, I wouldn’t really call him mine, not that I’d really like to, but I think that it fits. 

“Mary!” he shouts, reaching to my waist and pulling me out the door. I giggle, playfully putting a hand on his shoulder to keep him close. 

I enjoy what me and Ben have. We’re less than lovers, but more than friends. We go on dates, we hold hands, he even calls me beautiful in the late of night when we’re alone. But the both of us are doing this for one reason. The both of us are idiots who don’t know how to quit, and to ease the pain of being alone, to ease the pain of knowing we can never have what we truly want, we confide in one another. We do this for the thrill. Sometimes though, on those late nights, when we look into each other’s eyes, my heart wants something more from him than just a thrill. Maybe it’s because he looks like John in the dark. Maybe it’s because I haven’t felt love like that in such a long time. Either way, when he looks at mine, I feel as though he wants the same, but we just can’t accept it. 

By the time we’ve sat in our usual diner, we’ve already become a completely laughing mess. We really must bug everyone else around us, we’re loud and we’re playful and we act like absolute children. We eat like one too. We mix our sodas, we mush desserts down our throats, and our faces are all covered with burger bun crumbs and whipped cream. Ben likes to share most of his food with me, because I really only like small pieces of cake to fill my stomach up this early. He comments a lot on my weight, but I really don’t see what the problem is. If anything I’m glad. You hear women all the time complaining how much weight they’ve gained since marriage, and I for one can tell you they are right. It would have really helped if John would have at least told me I was starting to get pudgy, would have made it a lot more easier to lose since he’s been gone. I’m happy enough Ben is able to look me down on my average-looking body and not think too much of it. Sometimes it seems that’s all he really thinks about, but what else do you expect from a man like him? I guess some part of it is my fault too, I really should cover up more.

Our days out always go well. They always put a smile to my face, and the moment I get home, I jump around and smell the cologne left on my clothes from Ben. I feel happy. I wish it could have stayed like that. 

On our way home, Ben and I began to bicker. I thought it just another playful teasing like we always do, that it would end with a soft push and we’d laugh it off. But it wasn’t that way.

The street was filled with the steps of only us. Ben shoved me into a phone booth, holding the door tight with his fist. We were face to face, and the way he looked into my eyes felt as though his were knives ready to pierce. 

“Three words Mary. It’s three words. Is that really hard for you to say?” 

I scoffed and pushed him to wherever side I could. “Is that seriously what this is about? You can’t be serious-I’m not telling you that, will you open that door already?”.

“I want you to say it.” He muttered, his face getting closer to mine. “You say it to everyone else, you say it to all your friends, what difference is it with me? I’m not opening this door until you do, I want to hear it. I want you to say that you love me, Mary.”.

I lifted my head so that we both eyed each other with no other movement. 

“What does it matter to you, swinger? Don’t act stupid, don’t act like we’re two lovey dovey lovebirds, don’t act like this isn’t anything more than a kiss and a fuck to help us both sleep better at night knowing we have somebody holding us tight.”. I laughed, “And it’s not like you’re getting a kiss or a fuck out of me anyways, so put your hand in mine and walk me out of here and back home and we can forget this ever happened.”.

Then he said it again, and then I realized the true reason as to why I couldn’t just look at him and say those stupid three words he wanted to hear so badly-“Say it.”, said Ben. 

“Say it.” said John, brows furrowed and a grip on my shoulder. “Say it.” said John, tears falling down his face as he refused to look at mine. “Say it.” said John, sighing  nearly dead at me and shaking his head. 

How I wish I could have slapped Ben right then and there. How I wish I had grabbed him by the ear and used his weight to slam that door open. 

“I love you, Ben”.

And how I wish I would have just shut my mouth instead of giving him that pleasure.

Ben smirked at me, opening the door wide open for me to step out. It was a quiet walk home.