names; a short story

On Tuesday the afternoon sun is very hot. Heat waves glint in the space between concrete and glass, and I swat irritably at imaginary insects on my skin.

It rained while we were napping, the ground exhaling a mix of salt and earth and dust. The hand on my stomach rubs gently, Ben's palm cupping the lazy swell. I squirm a bit as sweat beads and trickles beneath his hand, stifling a yawn. Ben shivers as my breath gusts on his cheek, his other hand unconsciously reaching for my stomach as well.

I smile at the gesture; he'll make a good daddy.

Sweat trails down the side of his face, and I kiss it before it reaches his neck. The salt of it is not unpleasant on my tongue, and I shake my head as he sleeps on. "Lazy bastard," I mutter, kissing each eyelid in turn.

I play with the water and salt that puddles on his chest, drawing a ninja turtle on the left side and a smiley face on the right. His breath rumbles gently as I duck my head and hide a grin.

He opens a lazy eye-- a black, black, sleepy eye-- and stares at me. "Baby? What're you doing?"

And the hand on my stomach rubs again, gently, for good measure.

"Drawing," I grin. "See? I drew a turtle."

And now there isn't even a water stain to mark Leonardo the ninja turtle's passing, (skin is dinky like that), but he sighs and pretends he likes it anyway.

"I like it," he says, looking a bit cross-eyed as he stared at his chest. "Very… artsy."

I prop my chin on my hand and smile shrewdly. "And the smiley face?"

He sighs. "Very… happy."

And I drop my face into his stomach and blow a bubble, tasting sweat and sleep and Ben. He lets out a yell and tries to get away, but I hold fast and push and pull and pinch. Sweat makes us slide together like fish in a pond, and when we grapple I always cheat. He's too careful of my stomach anyway, and when I bite the inside of his thigh he doesn't put up a fight anymore.

I sit on his chest triumphantly, the big tank I am wearing more off than on, and say: "I win."

"You always win," Ben says, tumbling me off. And then he opens his arms and I scamper back, grinning, so happy I could burst.

"We should name him," I say after a while, playing with his rough-soft hands. Outside we can hear the little kids across the street screaming their heads off, the park mothers screaming just as loud.

"You don't even know if it's going to be a boy," he says.

And I shake my head, twist around so I can look at him. "It's going to be a boy," I say. "We're too macho to have a girl."

"Macho?" Ben grins.

"Macho," I repeat, and flex my arm.

And he laughs, his hands going to my stomach again, tickling now, then not tickling, and I say: "Daniel is nice, but do you think we should name him after your granddad?"

"Mm," he says, the picture of non-committal . "I like blue."

Then he kisses me, nuzzles my neck, fingers on my belly dipping a little, and god damn if it isn't too hot for *that*. So I open my mouth to say it but he says: "Not too hot."

And then I say "could've fooled me," except my voice gets stuck at "thbt".

Ten minutes later I pass a hand across my face and sigh. "I told you it was too hot."

But Ben's got a happy, stupid smile on his face and I think: Bastard. "But a nice one," he murmurs. His hand is back on my stomach, rubbing lazy circles on the skin of it.

My chin migrates to the space between his neck and his shoulder, the warm sunny smell lulling me despite my best efforts to resist.

"John or David or Michael," I say, yawning. "It needs to be a manly, Fear-Me kind of name."

He pats my forehead and stretches a little, and I laugh when I hear the bones popping in his toes.

"Or Richard or Hubert or Bob," I continue, wriggling about a bit.

And finally he sighs, a soft sound that says You're-Not-Going-To-Let-This-Go-Are-You. "Or Ben, after me."

I look at him and drop a kiss on the tip of his nose. "Or Ben," I agree.

Outside the kids have managed to break the top off the water pump and we can hear them yelling above the sound of water spraying.

We exchange a smile, and in the bright, liquid heat of the afternoon our arms go a little bit tighter around each other, our hearts get a little bit fuller.

"Ben," I say.

It's a good name.

*fin