November Exclusive - "Fidget" - Part 2 (Patreon)

TWO 

They have pasta for dinner. Ben spills some sauce on his shirt and Clara says that she should get him a bib.

Ben laughs. It’s a silly joke but he laughs anyway. Because they’re back to normal. Back to how things were before. Somehow. Thanks to the therapist. Thanks to an hour that Ben can’t remember. And when he tries to remember, all he can collect from that time is the knowledge that it doesn’t matter.

It’s not the ingredients that count, it’s the final taste. And tonight tastes just fine.

Loading the dishwasher, Ben says, “We should go out. Celebrate.”

Clara raises her eyebrows. “Where do you want to go?”

“Don’t mind. The local.” He grins at his wife. “Maybe I just want to show you off.” He steps over to the kitchen table and crouches in front of her. “Because you’re gorgeous.”

Clara sticks her tongue out at him.

Ben laughs. “Even now.” He takes her hand. “My beautiful Clara.” And she is. She’s always managed to look stunning, perfect skin wrapping a perfect body.

“My handsome boy.” Clara strokes Ben’s face. “I don’t think we need to go anyway.” She smiles mischievously. “I fancy a night in.” She tilts her face at him. “Don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Ben replies. And he thinks about something they haven’t done in over a month, ever since…

He frowns, and then shrugs. It’s been much too long, that’s the headline. He smiles at his wife. “Yeah, go on then.”

Clara puts her hands together. “Nice one.” She looks him up and down. “But first, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Cleaned up. Ben rubs his face. He should shave, he should have a rinse.

He follows Clara upstairs and into the bathroom. When she turns on the hot and cold taps, he says, “Are you having a bath? I was thinking I’d just take a quick shower.”

Clara looks at him with an astonished expression. “Since when do you take showers?” She laughs pleasantly. “Can’t play with your toys in the shower, silly.” She taps his nose. “And you can’t have bubbles, either.”

Ben blinks. “Eh?” What kind of joke is that? He feels a twitch of nervousness in his fingers as he watches as Clara opens the bathroom cabinet and brings out a plastic bottle. She twists off the cap and pours a red, syrupy liquid into the bath water, and the room fills with the scent of lavender and vanilla.

“Clara,” says Ben, “What’s this…what’s this for?” He points at the rising bath water, at the foaming bubbles. “You want to have a bath with me?” Because that’s the only explanation. But they’ve only ever showered together, the bathtub isn’t really big enough for two adults.

Another look of astonishment from Clara. She puts her arms around Ben’s neck and looks into his face. “Mummy doesn’t get in the bath, silly boy, she doesn’t want to get wet!”

Mummy.

Ben swallows. “Look, you want to play a game or something, that’s cool.” He manages a light laugh. “But I kind of need to know the rules.” He shakes out his hands, as if preparing to play a musical instrument.

“You can play when you’re in the bath,” says Clara, and her voice is musical, as if she’s speaking to a child. As soon as Ben hears his wife’s tone, a nervousness stretches the twitching anxiety from his head to his toes. “Now, be a good boy and fetch your jammies.”

Jammies. Ben’s first instinct is to reject the juvenile term, but he just nods.

Because he’s a good boy. Because Mummy told him to do something. Because…

Ben turns and walks out of the bathroom and heads across the landing.

“Not in there, silly,” Clara calls behind him. “That’s Mummy’s room.”

Ben looks back at Clara, his face a mask of confusion. “Huh?”

Clara points to the end of the hall and smiles. “There, silly! Your room.” Her smile widens. “The nursery.”

Ben shakes his head. That’s not right. Even though he’s a good boy, even though he won’t disagree with Mummy.

“Cla…” he begins, but his wife’s name feels foreign on his tongue, and he trails off.

“Come on,” Clara says briskly. “Get your jammies, we don’t want your bubbles to get cold, do we?”

No. Cold bubbles would be the worst.

Except, Ben is sure as he walks towards the room at the end of the hall, the spare room Clara has been using to keep her craft supplies, that there is something even less bearable than a cool bath.

It’s behind that door.

Ben stands in front of it.

“Chop-chop!” Clara calls. And then she huffs, walks from the bathroom and joins Ben at the door. “You want Mummy to choose your jammies tonight?” She tousles his hair. “You know which ones I’ll choose, you know Mummy’s favourites.” She gives Ben one of her sweet smiles and then opens the door.

Ben looks inside. He shakes his head. And then he follows his wife into the nursery.