The Moments Between

by Natalie Banks

  I almost laughed at the irony.

  I rolled my eyes and handed him my credit card. After a few minutes he handed it back to me with the slip to sign, and I reluctantly tipped him two dollars on my eight-dollar martini.

  I picked up the cake box and my drink, and headed to the party room.

  My hands were so full that I had trouble opening the door. No one inside noticed my struggle.

  As I attempted to get it open, two male servers walked past not even glancing my way. I was irritated that neither of them had offered to help. I knew if it had been Mandi struggling with the door, they would’ve both stopped.

  After several tries, I finally got it open.

  Once I stepped inside the door, something instantly felt wrong. I felt strangely out of place as an odd sense of déjà vu washed over me. And I thought for an instant, I might faint.

  Reality was swirly and the space around me seemed almost pliable. Like the walls of the world weren’t exactly intact.

  As if I was existing a place where nothing was absolute.

  But yet, everything was. I could feel the edges of the cardboard cake box cutting into my fingers and the cold weeping through the glass.

  I walked over and sat the cake down at the end of the table, between two people I didn’t recognize. The chatter in the room was overbearing, which irritated me even more.

  And once I saw Dad sitting at the end of the table, my mood was sunk. He gave me a wave and I pretended not to see.

  I didn’t want to be here, but leaving wasn’t an option at this point.

  Mandi spotted me from across the room.

  “Claire! There you are! Where in the world have you been? You know you’re 30 minutes late?!” She raised her voice just loud enough for the whole room to hear, then came over and kissed me on the cheek. I couldn’t help but think of Judas’ kiss in the Bible.

  She looked down at the cake box and turned up her nose. Unable to hide the obvious disappointed look on her face. This was clearly not the appropriate location for her cake, I assumed.

  She opened the box and lifted out the glistening white cake. The words Happy Birthday Mandi were precisely written in red on the top. She walked over and carefully sat it down in the direct center of the table for all to see. She took her finger and ran it purposefully along the edge of the icing, accumulating a generous amount. She paused, looked around the table, and smiled right before licking the icing off her finger, slowly and deliberately. I rolled my eyes as she giggled with all the men staring at her now bare finger.

  Ben waved to me, and I went and sat down next to him. The boys were nibbling on cheese and crackers, shifting anxiously in their seats. They were already getting bored. I pulled two coloring books and a pack of crayons out of my bag and gave it to them. This seem to appease them for the time being.

  Ben looked at my martini and shook his head. I shrugged in response.

  He thought the drink was so I could get through the party. I’d let him keep thinking that.

  And anyway, Mandi was part of the reason. She could drive anyone to drink.

  The entire party was orchestrated to Mandi’s exact specifications. We had a late lunch made up of four courses, which my boys struggled to make it through. It irritated me that she didn’t even consider them in the equation when planning this, even though she was the one who was insistent that her nephews come.

  Why was I surprised?

  But what did surprise me is that Mom wasn’t here. Where was she? She probably didn’t want to see Dad any more than I did.

  When it was time for cake, Lewis stood next to her, hand on her shoulder, seemingly to stake his claim.

  Lewis wasn’t a handsome man. He was completely bald and had the typical middle-aged male physique, but he was perfect for Mandi. Honestly, I think she liked the fact that she was out of his league because it gave her more power.

  He beckoned to her every whim. What he lacked in the looks department he well made up for in the money one. He gave her whatever she wanted, and not to mention he turned his head when she flirted. Which she did often. This was part of her charm.

  Everyone sang to Mandi as she blew out twenty-two candles. She refused to acknowledge any birthday after twenty-two. She had been twenty-two for nine years now and no one dared to correct her. We all just went along.

  I looked over at Dad and he smiled at me. I gave him a quick wave. I had no intention of talking to him. I had nothing to say. He was here for his precious Mandi, anyway.

  Ben got up and went to the bathroom, leaving me with the boys.

  As soon as he disappeared out of my view, I began to panic.

  Would he return?

  With him out of sight, my grasp on reality was shaken. My thoughts disjointed.

  I glanced from the door to my watch over and over again as time slowed to a crawl.

  I braced myself, half expecting him to never come back.

  My nerves, rattled. My world, unsteady.

  As the party went on, I chewed on my lip. Watching. Waiting.

  The door opened several times as servers bustled in and out. My heart sinking each time with the realization that it wasn’t Ben.

  Just when I couldn’t take the waiting any longer, he finally reappeared, and a flood of relief washed over me. I looked down at my watch, he had only been gone for four minutes.

  Why had it felt so much longer?

  Just before the gifts were to be opened, Dad came over to speak to the boys. I gritted my teeth as he kneeled down next to them.

  “How are my handsome grandsons doing?” he asked.

  “Why would you care?” I hissed.

  “Claire, that’s uncalled for,” Ben spouted.

  Dad looked up at me, his face strained with emotion, but I was un-wavered by his crestfallen look.

  “Why don’t you go back and sit next to your beloved daughter?” I continued.

  “Now, that’s enough!” Ben almost shouted, his eyes fixed on me.

  Dad stood up and put his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “It’s okay. She’s got every right to be angry with me.”

  As he walked back to his seat, Ben gave me a disapproving look. I shrugged in return.

  Soon after Dad took his seat again, Lewis brought the gifts over to Mandi. She opened them one by one, giggling like a five-year-old and dramatically proclaiming her love for every item.

  As I watched her opening gifts, my stomach suddenly dropped as the realization hit me that I had left her gift at home.

  Not having a gift for Mandi on her actual birthday was a punishable offense. It was just the kind of thing that she would be upset about, for a very long time.

  I felt my cheeks redden in preemptive response.

  I had so much on my mind when we were leaving, it had totally slipped my mind.

  Honestly, I didn’t even know if Mandi would have liked her gift anyway. It was a fabric journal and pen set that I had picked up for her at a boutique.

  Who was I kidding?

  She was not the kind of girl to journal. She was too busy living life to write about it. Suddenly, I felt that old familiar burn rise up in my chest, and pushed it down.

  Mandi was the only person who made me feel this way.

  Insignificant.

  Next to her beauty, confidence, and glamor, I always felt washed up. The feelings were the strongest when we were teenagers, but now, years later, I was still filled with that same insecurity. I was powerless around her. Even if I tried to defend myself, she was always able to turn it around and make me look like the bad guy. It was a gift of hers.

  When Mandi finished opening her presents, she looked around dramatically, searching the table around her and then leaning way over to check the floor like she had dropped something.

  “Is that it?” she said as she turned and directed her entire focus
on me.

  I found my voice, but just barely. “I left your gift at home. I’m sorry…”

  The expression on her face was instantly recognizable.

  She was displeased.

  “What did you say, dear? I can’t hear you.” Her eyes determinedly fixed on mine, wanting me to repeat it so that everyone would know about my offense.

  The irritation that I had already been fighting multiplied rapidly.

  Why was she always so intent on embarrassing me?

  Why couldn’t she just let something go for once?!

  My heart pounded violently as my blood pressure went up. Anger coursed through me like a rocket. I wasn’t going to be able to tolerate her behavior. Not this time. It was rare that she could get a rise out of me …but TODAY of all days…

  Before I could complete that thought, Ben spoke up. “Mandi, I am so sorry. It’s completely my fault. I left your gift sitting on the counter. Darned if Claire didn’t remind me to get it too!” He chuckled.

  With that, I felt his hand come and rest on my knee.

  Mandi’s shoulders relaxed as she leaned across the table. Just at the perfect angle for Ben to see down her blouse to her full bosom.

  “Ah, no worries, handsome! You can deliver it to me personally, later.” With that, she gave him a wink and flashed her quintessential million-dollar smile.

  My eyes were on Mandi, anger still coursing through me. But once I looked back at Ben, my heart immediately filled with warmth. He always knew just what I needed, when I needed it.

  He smiled at me, proud of his heroic deed.

  A pang of guilt suddenly zapped me. I couldn’t help but wonder if I had paid attention to these small kindnesses before?

  Or now that I had experienced losing him, was I just only now noticing these acts of love?

  It’s funny how the things that you take for granted about the people you love are the very things that you miss the most when they’re gone.

  And oh, I had missed him so much. It had been so lonely without him. There were so many days that I just wanted to talk to him. To hear his voice. To tell him all the things that I wished I had said before he was gone.

  Several times, I caught myself talking to the ghost of him, in the wee hours of the morning. Wearing his shirt, lying in the bed with a glass of wine, and I would imagine he was there, lying beside me.

  My voice would echo in the empty room. Reminding me of the truth that he was gone.

  That I was completely alone.

  The reality of him being gone was unbearable. I didn’t know how to do our family without Ben. He had made everything work for us…the boys and I…he made our lives wonderful.

  I had taken it all for granted.

  How I would’ve given anything for just one more chance to say thank you. To tell him how much he meant to me. The things that I never said enough before he was gone.

  I had just assumed he would always be there.

  Then he wasn’t.

  Like a vapor, he was gone. Leaving a gaping hole where he once stood.

  Now, all of sudden, he was there, sitting right next me. His hand on my knee. I could feel the warmness of it through the fabric of my pant leg.

  Not a wish. Not imagined.

  Ben was really here. And I vowed I would never take him for granted again.

  Finally, the party was over, and we walked the two blocks back to the parking garage where we had left the car.

  I held Oliver’s hand and Ben held Grayson’s as we walked down the sidewalk side by side.

  I sighed; my body filled with a flood of love.

  Cars rushed by as we walked. Tires roaring on pavement.

  People rushed past us on the sidewalk. Faceless. Nameless. Living their own lives.

  And here I was with my own life. My own personal universe. Everything that mattered was right here with me.

  The sounds of city suddenly faded away as I looked over at Ben.

  “Who’s up for some ice cream?” I asked.

  Ben looked back at me. I could see the surprise on his face. Stopping for ice cream is something I would never do after one of Mandi’s events. Usually, I just wanted to get home and crawl into a nice bubble bath with a glass of wine to recover.

  The boys began bouncing immediately, chanting in unison. “Me, me, me, me!”

  Ben smiled. “Ice cream sounds great, Mommy!”

  Later that evening, after we got the boys tucked in, I stood in the living room, staring out the window into the night. The busyness of the day fading, leaving me to face my thoughts once again.

  I stared out into the darkness as it mixed together with glimmery reflections of the streetlamp. My mind struggling to make sense of what had happened. I’d gone through the motions all day with precision, but inside, the memory of the dream was still with me.

  As I stared out the window, Ben came up behind me with a bottle of wine and two glasses. I turned around to face him and he kissed me. Long and hard.

  I felt my body instantly stirring in response, my pulse quickening at the thought of his touch.

  He walked a few steps away, opened the bottle and poured us both a generous glass as my eyes followed his every move.

  “I figured you needed this after the party.” He laughed.

  “I did.” I smiled back.

  I walked over with my glass and sat down on the couch. Ben followed, sitting down right next to me. He lifted his arm and put it around me in a synchronized motion. Moves we had memorized after years of replaying them over and over.

  I sipped the wine, the taste tart and warm, and snuggled into the crook of Ben’s arm.

  Thoughts were still buzzing through my head as I fought to push them away.

  I told myself over and over again…it was just a dream.

  Just like I had told Ben this morning… A very, very bad dream.

  Now, I just wanted to put it all behind me.

  All that mattered now was that he was here. We were together.

  I snuggled in closer to him.

  It was just a dream.

  And it didn’t matter now.

  What mattered at this moment was the feel of his arm around me and the taste of the wine on my tongue.

  When the wine bottle was empty and our bodies were warmed, he led me up the stairs to our bedroom and closed the door.

  He put his mouth on mine again and my body quivered with desire.

  How long had it been since I had felt his lips on mine? It seemed like forever ago.

  Was it?

  How long since the last time he touched me? Since I had felt his caress? His hands on my body? I felt a tear slip out the side of my eye and quickly wiped it away.

  He unzipped my dress and slipped it off my shoulders, one strap at a time. It fell to the floor in a crumpled pile. I began to tremble as he gently kissed my neck. His breath on me, like the flutter of wings. He unclasped my bra and reached down and slipped off my panties. Our eyes locked on each other.

  He led me to the bed and I laid down. My body ached with an indescribable longing for him. The desire rose up inside of me like it was the very first time we had made love. An insatiable desire that I thought could never be extinguished.

  He slid right up next to me. I could feel the hardness of him pressed against my leg as he ran his tongue down the side of my neck. Slowly, he moved his hands along my belly until he reached my breasts and caressed them gently.

  I was filled with desperation. Months of longing engulfed me, and I couldn’t bear it any longer. I turned and moved my hips against him, and he responded. When he entered me, a jolt of electricity spread through my entire body. The feeling so powerful, I had to bite down on my lip to keep from crying out and waking the boys.

  We made love slowly and deliberately as my hands ran up and down his back.r />
  I could feel the heat of his body on mine.

  Ben…

  He was here with me.

  The memories of him being gone, drifted away. As if they never were.

  Chapter 3

  I awoke in the still darkness of the night. Moonlight filled the room with a muted glow.

  And the dream called to me.

  To remember.

  It came back to me.

  Images penetrated me against my will.

  So vivid. So real.

  The memory of it so close, that I could almost touch it with my fingertips. The pain so fresh, the echo of it rang violently through me.

  Tears soaked my pillow as my mind succumbed to the memory of the dream.

  The knock on the door startled me and I dropped the mug I was drying. It smashed to the floor, scattering hundreds of pieces all around me. Another knock, followed quickly by the ding of the doorbell. I tiptoed through shattered pieces of ceramic and looked up at the kitchen clock. It was 5:20 in the afternoon. I looked at the calendar on the wall.

  June 3rd.

  I wasn’t expecting anyone.

  Who could be at the door?

  The boys had gone over to their friend’s house and wouldn’t be back for at least an hour. Ben was at work and wouldn’t be home until after seven tonight. He had a meeting with a new client, and that would also require dinner out. Some guys considered it a perk of the job, wining and dining clients, but Ben hated it. He just wanted to get home to us.

  The knock came again. It was louder this time. More insistent.

  Soon after, the sound of the doorbell rang as I hurried toward the door.

  My bare feet creaked on the hardwood floor as I walked through the open foyer. The foyer that Ben and I had just slow danced in last night to an old Marvin Gaye CD.

  As I opened the door, the sunlight streamed in like a jet and nearly blinded me. Making it difficult to see who was standing in front of me. I put my hand up to my eyes to fight the glare.

  “Mrs. DuPont?” a man’s voice spoke.

  “Yes?” I answered expectantly.

  “May I step inside, ma’am?” he asked softly.

  “Who are you?” I asked nervously.