Dread

Ben is earnest. He is kind to animals. He tips 20 percent, even if the service wasn’t great, because maybe they were just having a bad day. He volunteers. He plays his guitar under an oak tree in the quad. He is a good singer. He did well in calculus, but not so well it ruined the curve. Ben makes his own shampoo. He has dreadlocks, and they look great on him.

Ben quit school to really focus on his painting. His work is really good. He is a part-time grocery clerk. It gives him perspective. He will be honest about your poetry. When he says it needs work, you’re not crushed. You’re just so grateful you guys are friends.

Ben doesn’t want to fuck you. He really likes you. You do want to fuck him. You’re sure that would ruin everything that you love about being friends with him, but you want to lay a claim. You go to see a singer-songwriter together and you brush his hand. The segment of a second you spend waiting for him to touch you is the best you’ve ever felt. He doesn’t hold on. It’s better that way.

Ben says you should get ice cream together, even though it’s really cold out. He’s so unpredictable like that. You pick ube, because you’ve never heard of that. Ben seems impressed. He decides not to order his own. He wants to share. Oh my god. You are dizzy for a second. You think he notices this. You think immediately about your underwear. It’s black and new and it matches your bra and you’re relieved.

You’re at Ben’s place. His roommate is home. He has a Metallica record on. Ben sits on the couch next to his roommate. You sit on an ottoman next to the door. A cat jumps on your lap, and you pet her. She has dandruff. The roommate gets up to retrieve a Coors for himself and for Ben. The roommate asks Ben whether he remembers the time they hot-boxed his Ford Windstar. You assume he means in high school.

You fish your phone out of your bag. Ben asks you when the next bus leaves for your neighborhood. Your phone’s battery is too low for you to find out. It’s really late, though, you say. Ben says you can stay if you need to. My casa is your casa, he says.

Ben asks if you want to see his newest painting. Of course you do. You’re going into his room. You’re staying the night. Of course you want to see it. There are no sheets on his bed. You don’t understand his new painting. You think he notices this. He touches your hair. You shiver. He sits down on the bed and it creaks. It’s cold in his room. You sit down next to him and he moves to kiss you.

Ben is awful in bed. He doesn’t read subtitles. He always orders mayo on the side and he never eats it. He has a mole. He doesn’t believe in cell phones or Facebook or digital photography. He watches Family Guy. He doesn’t vote. Ben dates you for eight months and then dumps you over the phone from a hookah bar. Ben’s jeans were made in a sweatshop, just like yours.