A Daddy for Benito by Joe Satoria

13. BENITO

The way Harry’s mother spoke to him, it brought everything up to the surface. I felt the claustrophobia burn inside me like I was wearing constrictive clothing. It’s why I had undressed as fast as I did and locked myself in the cold of the bathroom. I felt like the scared child again, crying to myself in the darkness of the world. Being shut out wasn’t something I thought I suffered from anymore. I was an adult, I was grown, I shouldn’t have been allowed to feel like that, especially from the words of someone else.

“I’ll go buy you more yoghurt,” he said, combing a hand through my hair as we sat on the sofa. I was in his underwear still, my knees tucked up to my chest. Harry was cool, like he’d been there, done it, and he was all the better for it. I didn’t have the closure of telling my parents where to stuff it.

I didn’t even notice him gone; I was enveloped into the world of Sailor Moon. It was easy. It was comfort. It was always there, there was no disappointments because I knew what was going to happen and when it was going to happen. The break ups, I knew they weren’t permanent, they were fated together.

I only noticed when Harry arrived, the smell of food wafting through the air. “I went to KFC too,” he called out. “It’s the one thing I know that gets me feeling normal again.” He called out, lifting the large bag in arm, and another shopping bag in the other. “I got ice cream, and yoghurt, and chocolate, because we deserve it.”

Barely moving more than a muscle to look over at him. I patted the sofa seat. “Can we eat here?”

“But there’s a dining table,” he chuckled. “And I don’t want to make a mess.”

“I won’t make a mess,” I said. It was a lie. He knew it was a lie. I’d got toast crumbs and scrambled egg everywhere on the dining table. “I won’t make another mess.” Whether he believed that was up to him.

Approaching as the smell came closer, he placed the bag on the table. My stomach rumbled. I hadn’t eaten my dietary requirement of an unlimited supply of yoghurt today. “I think we deserve to eat watching TV. How are you feeling?” He dipped to my head on the sofa, kissing my forehead. “You should have come shopping with me?”

“I just—” I didn’t know how to put it in words. “When I’m comfortable, I like to stay there.” It’s why I liked to be spooned, and it’s why I liked attention. People who paid attention to me usually stuck around. Now, I was nervous about getting too close and attached to Harry. I knew he worked every day, and I knew I’d probably feel lost.

“A lot going on behind those eyes,” he said, sitting beside me. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“This—this whole situation.”

“It’s strange for me too,” he said, smiling. “But at the same time, I’m enjoying it. Except for what happened earlier. I’m starting to do things differently.”

I had that impact on people. “And I thought you were the Dom.”

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll get to that. It’s not a cut and paste situation. But if you want me to put my foot down about something, we’ll eat dinner at the table,” he said, standing. I immediately grabbed at his arm and hooked an arm around him at the waist. “You want me to put some structure in your life, well, let’s start now.”

Maybe not what I’d meant, I was enjoying the time and comfort of wallowing on the sofa. After all, it was his mother who brought all my stuff to the surface, and now I’d probably need therapy. I didn’t have the money or the time to wait it out on some mental health waitlist.

“Come on,” he said, grabbing the bag with food. “You can set the table. We’ll use a knife and fork too.”

He wasn’t kidding either. Harry made me set the table; knife, fork, and a plate. I even poured water into glasses. In the centre of the table, was a bucket of fried chicken on the bone, as well as the different pots of side orders; gravy, baked beans in tomato sauce, and corn on the cob. There were also four small portions of their thick-cut fries too.

We sat across from each other. He smiled. “Do you want to put a t-shirt on?” he asked.

“I was waiting for you to say something,” I said, looking down at my chest, all the way down to his underwear I had on. “But no, and I’ve just realised something.” Into a sigh, I spoke solemnly.

“Oh? What?”

“I’m a vegetarian,” I said. “So, I can’t eat this.”

“You are—” his face flushed, and his mouth came ajar. “I’m—fuck, I should have asked.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame.” I couldn’t contain myself, cracking a smile.

“You little shit,” he said, “you’re playing, right?”

Rolling my eyes, I looked him over and reached into the bucket. “Duh.”

He slapped at my hand. “Bad boy,” he chuckled.

I yanked a piece of chicken out. The grease already in the palm of my hand, travelled down my fingers. My mouth salivated. “You have any sauce?”

“Yeah, in the cupboard,” he said.

“Can you get it for me?”

He raised his brows at me. “Pardon.”

“Pweese, Daddy.”

He nodded. “That’s more like it.” He stood. “Which sauce? Tomato? Brown? Barbecue?”

“Tomato, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he mocked. “And if you’re looking for mayo—”

“It’s in your pants?”

“What? No. I’m much sweeter than mayo. It’s in the fridge.” He winked.

Fast food was always different. No matter how much I bought those fried chicken pieces from the fresh food or freezer sections at the supermarket, it would never compete with the fast-food version. Nothing could compare to the taste of the fried and seasoned chicken skin that came away from the chicken so effortlessly.

Harry made continued eye contact from across the table while gulping down a glass of water. “We should talk about what’s going to happen tomorrow.”

“You mean, me going to see Alexi.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I don’t want him to tell Warren. And I don’t want you to be hurt if Alexi doesn’t want to be your friend.”

He has to be my friend. We spoke every single day for months, and then suddenly, nothing. Radio silence. “He wants to meet, I think he’s ready to put whatever me and Warren had in the past, where it is, and I don’t want it to be out in the open again.” I wasn’t even sure how much of it Harry knew. “Do you know what happened?”

“You slept with the guy he was flat sharing within London, and then stole some of his money,” he said, almost like it was matter of fact. He didn’t even pause to think about it. It was clearly already on his mind.

“I’m not—”

“Listen,” he said, “if I thought it mattered, I wouldn’t have pursued you. And it doesn’t matter what Warren says. We have something.”

“Yeah, it’s called fried chicken,” I said, grabbing at another chicken leg. “But if you’re talking about what he said, I’ll leave it there. Those are the facts, I guess.” Without mentioning Warren had talked about a threesome, and he’d willingly gave me money, but wanted it back when it suited him. “And we have that rule, remember.”

“Rule.” His brows furrowed together. “I don’t remember—”

“No talk about exes.”

He nodded and tapped at the temple on the side of his head. “Uh. Balls. Greasy fingers.” He immediately reached for the napkins from the bag on the table. “After this, do you want to join me in the shower?”

“I was thinking more like eat those yoghurts and watch more Sailor Moon.”

Harry shook his head. “Oh no,” he said. “I’m gonna make sure you’re all nice and cleaned up. And then, I’ll pick you out an outfit for tomorrow. I want you to look your best when you go speak to your friend. You’ll have to let me know what else you want to do tomorrow. I can leave you some money if you like.”

Only minutes after mentioning I’d stolen money from Warren was he questioning whether or not to leave me money. “That’s ok. And I want to wear something cute.”

He looked me over, chewing at his bottom lip and nodding. “I might have just the thing for you.”