by Rula Sinara
Wolf sat obediently waiting, but his tail was like a windshield wiper on high speed. Cooper ducked his head, then crossed the parking lot to them.
“Does some hot chocolate sound good?” Brie added. Hope was positive that the cold air alone wasn’t responsible for her red cheeks and matching nose. Or his.
“Yes, ma’am. Hi again.” Cooper stuck his hand out and shook hands with Hope. He hesitated, then held his hand out to Brie. She shook it. Finally. First contact. Hope was honored to witness the event.
“May I point out that this poor soul isn’t used to temperatures in the thirties,” Hope said. “For me, midfifties is cold.” She slapped her hands against her jeans. Her coat and knit cap were warm, but her face felt numb.
“You’re just trying to make us jealous.” Brie grinned. “Let’s get inside.”
Cooper followed them until they approached the door. He waited for Brie to unlock it but hurried to hold it open for them. Mr. Quiet was quite the gentleman.
“Ooh, this is so much better,” Hope said. “I was freezing.”
“Let me check to see if Uncle Ralph or Arnie are in the back. Either way I’ll get those hot drinks started to help us melt down,” Brie said.
Cooper unzipped his jacket but left it on. He glanced at his usual table, but didn’t move. Hope made sure he couldn’t catch her making big eyes at Brie behind her back. Technically, the place was closed, so obviously he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to go sit like a customer or what. Brie’s eyebrows lifted when she caught Hope’s signal.
“Um, so, Cooper,” Brie said as she pulled off the green beanie cap rimmed with dogs in Santa hats. “How handy are you with lifting big boxes?”
“Very handy, ma’am. Just point to it and tell me where you’d like it.”
“Great!” Brie said. “If you hang out and help us put up the tree, anything you want to eat or drink is on the house. And, Cooper, please. Call me Brie.”
“Yes, ma’am. Brie.”
Hope quickly excused herself to use the restroom. She didn’t need to go, but she couldn’t keep a straight face out there, and she didn’t want to embarrass them. No question now that Cooper liked Brie.
Hope looked in the mirror and straightened her malachite-and-unpolished-ruby beaded earrings. They weren’t holiday earrings, per se, but they had the right colors, and they went well with her solid green fitted sweater. She had to admit, her looks had never mattered much to her, but lately she was more conscious of them. She went ahead and washed her hands, since they’d been in every store imaginable, and left the bathroom.
She slowed her steps as she reentered the main seating area. It was like looking into one of those snow globes before it was shaken. The evening sun sparkled through the stained-glass window on the upper half of the door and along the tops of the windows near the bench seats. Shiny ball ornaments shone along green garlands that trimmed the bar area and the edge of the stage. Brie had really done some magic to the place. And she didn’t miss Brie’s placement of three hearty brown mugs of hot chocolate on the round table near the corner of the stage: Cooper’s table.
Hope slipped onto one of the chairs at the table and wrapped her hands around the closest mug. She watched as Cooper stood abruptly when stout, ruddy-cheeked Uncle Ralph, whom Hope had met the last time she’d come by, walked in with Brie and Wolf at his heels. Cooper shook her uncle’s hand. Hope loved the way Cooper said, “Yes, sir.” Respect and honor. That was how everyone was supposed to treat their elders. That was what she’d always lived by. The way Brie’s shoulders relaxed said she appreciated it, too. Her uncle’s approval, whether for the pub or the man, meant the world to her. Hope understood that need.
Uncle Ralph said something about a strain and placed his hand on his lower back, and another “Yes, sir. No problem, sir” came from Cooper. Brie couldn’t take her eyes off him, and the way she said, “Follow me, I’ll show you the way” sent a flutter through Hope.
Life seemed so perfect, so pristine and picturesque, when you looked at it from the outside in. Any dream, any desire could be brought to life in that glass bubble. Grass certainly did look greener from the other side. Hope had been feeling defeated and burned out back home. Depressed by the suffering she saw. She’d seen and felt the suffering here, too. With Ben’s family. And now, even with how perfectly the scene before her was unfolding, she knew nothing was perfect, but if love was present, it didn’t have to be.
Hope looked at the stage next to her. What would life be like right now if she didn’t try to make it perfect? If she stopped trying so hard to do what everyone expected of her and to prove herself?
Not only are you an Alwanga, you’re a woman. You have to work harder to prove yourself and be successful. Her mother’s words filled her ears. She set her mug down and played her finger around the rim. A person didn’t build a successful career without some sort of desire driving it. Her parents had always been driven. Sometimes it took blocking out everything else in her life, surrounding herself in silence, so that she could find peace from their pressures. A moment to just stop and gain perspective. Like now, looking into the bubble… A snow globe, like the ones they’d set out at Ben’s. She smiled at Brie’s glowing face and Cooper’s humble reserve. Something fluttered and floated past the corner of her eye. She got up and hurried to the windows just to be sure.
“Hey, everyone! It’s snowing!”
The snow dome had just been shaken.
*
BEN OPENED ANOTHER one of Cooper’s kitchen cabinets and looked inside. More mugs from different states and countries than one guy would ever use, and a random box of toothpicks in the corner.
“I’m not taking no for an answer unless you’ve read through that file I sent you. I’m telling you, Coop, just read it. This could work.” He needed to know once and for all at this point. He was also using it as an excuse to come over and find out if a major intervention was needed.
“You’re not going to find anything in those cabinets,” Cooper said, putting his feet up on his old couch.
“Who says I’m looking for anything?” Ben asked.
“Really? Man, subtlety is not your thing. I told you I’m not drinking.”
“Then why is it you won’t return my calls? And why is it I was told you’ve been making almost daily visits to Bentley’s? Of all places.”
“Who told you that? Ah, Hope,” he said, figuring out the obvious.
“She mentioned that she sees you from time to time, and I took it from there. Don’t hold it against her. You know I can get people to talk.” Ben regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Anyone but his own daughter.
“It’s a free country,” Cooper said. “Can’t a man get some grub? I didn’t get the memo that said I needed to check with you first.”
“It’s not what you eat that I worry about,” Ben said.
“For crying out loud, I was asked for some help with a box, we all ended up helping get a tree up for the place, then Brie insisted on giving me and Hope a ride home because of the weather. If you don’t believe me, go interrogate that girlfriend of yours some more.”
Ben felt sucker punched. Coop had not just called Hope his girlfriend, had he?
“Cooper—”
“Don’t Cooper me. You waltz in here pretending to be a friend. Saying I’m the only guy you’d trust as a business partner. But you don’t trust a thing. What kind of man do you think I am?”
“Coop, we’ve known each other forever. Been through things no one could understand. I have your back and you have mine. Like always. I want to be sure you’re okay.”
“Worried?” Cooper leaped off the couch and slammed his fist against the wall, then paced. “You think I’m messed up. Maybe I am, but not for the reason you think. I haven’t had a drink since I attended your wife’s funeral. I made a promise to you and I’ve kept it, and all you’ve done is look for any reason to suspect me. I was in a bad way. The painkillers after surgery. The alcohol. But I put that behind me
so I could be someone. So I wouldn’t hurt anyone. And look where it got me.”
Ben was out of the galley kitchen in two strides.
“I don’t get it. Look where it got you? What? No job? Man, you’re the one sitting here letting your bank account bleed to death. I’ve been begging you to snap out of it and work with me. I’m handing you a job on a damn platter. You want to do something else? You don’t want to work with me? Fine.”
“I can’t. I can’t do anything.”
“Of course you can. You’re a marine! You don’t let an injury stop you. If you can get yourself to a pub, you can get yourself anywhere. Don’t you see what you’re doing here?”
“No! I don’t see!” Cooper glared at him, his nostrils flaring and fists clenched, looking as if he was about to tear the place apart. Instead, his chest deflated, and he turned his back on Ben.
“I don’t see,” he repeated. “I’m going blind.”
There was a frozen pause, like that moment bullet meets vest and knocks the wind out of you.
Cooper sniggered. “Yeah, see?” He faced Ben again. “A blind man would look real good for a security company. Give those clients a little extra confidence.” He laughed, but there was an eerie ring to it. He swung his arm and knocked several frames and a stack of mail off the table. “See that? That’s what it’s going to be like. Pathetic. Useless.”
Ben couldn’t move. He stood in his buddy’s tiny apartment and felt the walls closing in. Blind? He’d recovered from his leg injury, and they’d cleared him of any brain trauma. He clearly recalled Cooper telling him that the doctors who treated him had said that other than a permanent limp and twisted red scars running down his leg, he was fine. That his MRI was negative. That if he’d suffered any trauma to his brain from the blast, it was mild. No visible head or eye injury, no loss of peripheral vision when they checked by holding fingers up and making sure he could see them. He’d been cleared.
“I don’t understand,” Ben said. Shell-shocked didn’t come close to how he felt. Cooper walked over to his sliding patio doors and looked outside.
“Apparently, I got close to one too many blasts. According to the new doc I saw, my hearing came back fairly quick after each incident, blurred vision and headaches cleared up, too, because the impact was mild. I was far enough away. Nothing actually hit my head. All normal combat stuff. But add up all the times and you have luck like mine. He called it repetitive mild traumatic brain injury. Too mild for visible signs, but now I have nerve damage.
“Oh, and here’s the kicker,” he said, turning around. “Back when they first screened me for mental issues, they blamed my tired eyes on sleep trouble, and lack of sleep on stress. Who’d believe a drunk anyhow, right? Blame the bottle. Treat the PTSD. It was all psychosomatic. And I believed them. I ignored the symptoms because I believed it was all in my head until they got bad enough for me to go back. And now they’ll try to stop it from progressing, but it’s likely too late. And the damage that’s already done? My peripheral vision loss? It’s permanent.”
Ben tried processing what he’d heard. Tried to think of signs he’d missed. Something he might have noticed and pointed out sooner to help his friend.
Ben stood legs akimbo, wanting some sort of direction. Some way to fix this.
“Coop. Man, I’m so sorry. Tell me what to do. Whatever you need. I got your back.”
“No, you don’t, Ben,” Cooper scoffed. “Everything lately has revolved around you getting your life back. Well, I can’t help you there. I don’t have a life. You wanna know why I go to Bentley’s and sit there? So I can see what it’ll be like when all I can do is hear. Listen to music. Listen to people talking about their normal lives. I listen because, even before I realized I was bumping into stuff too often, looking at a computer screen or trying to read anything killed me. That’s why I sit around. Not because I’m some lazy ass wallowing in pity. I also go to Bentley’s because I can walk there. Yes, I walk. I walk because I won’t risk suddenly not being able to see while I’m behind the wheel. I won’t risk hurting someone. You want my car keys? Take them. You’ve been worried about me turning into one more drunk driver. Well, no worries, man, ’cause I won’t be driving at all. Your wish came true. Punish the drinkers. Now get out.”
Ben palmed his face, then dropped his hands to his sides. Coop was right. He, Ben, was either a person’s best friend and protector or their worst enemy. It depended on which side of the battle they were on. It came with the job. And here he’d been failing to protect his friends and family. That made him a traitor, didn’t it?
Ben’s blood rushed through his veins, making his ears throb. He’d failed again. Zoe was dead. Maddie couldn’t speak. And now his friend was going blind. And he was the common denominator. Who else’s life was he going to ruin?
Blame. Looking for excuses. Was this what he’d been doing with Brie and Bentley’s, too? He took a deep breath. Coop was angry. Cooper needed to be angry.
“Coop, I didn’t know. You should have told me.”
“Why? You blamed the short time I drank, just like they did. All you’ve done is stick to the fact that I’d turned to alcohol. Besides, you’ve had enough going on yourself. Go look in the mirror. You need someone to be angry at. Someone to be your vent victim. Believe it or not, I get that. You didn’t need to know about my problems. And get this…I don’t need your sympathy. Not when I’ve seen what you really think of me,” Cooper said, jabbing a finger at him.
Ben walked to the kitchen, scanned the floor blindly, then went back to Cooper. There was one last thing he could do. Coop had been dealing with all this on his own. Holding it all in. Ben knew the torture. The loneliness. Cooper needed to lose some cargo before it sank him.
“You don’t know what I think. You’re drowning in self-pity, and that’s what brought you down after your leg injury. You need to snap out of this and talk to me,” Ben said.
“Get out.”
“Coop.”
“Get out, Ben. Now.”
“I’m not leaving.” If Cooper needed a punching bag, Ben could take it. Ben deserved it. No way was he walking out of here now.
“You must have a death wish. I said to leave.”
Ben stared him down. Oh, he had a death wish, all right. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d wished he was dead instead of Zoe. Cooper blinked. His friend needed to let go of everything he’d been holding in before his life really did detonate.
“You know what else I think?” Ben said. “All those reasons you gave me for going to Bentley’s were bull. I think a certain redhead is the real reason. But you’re not man enough, so you just go sit in a corner and wallow. Kind of creepy, don’t you think?”
Telltale color crept up the back of Cooper’s neck. Good. He’d pushed a button.
“It’s not like that. I’m not wasting my time picking up girls who’ll either feel sorry for me or not want anything to do with me when they figure it out. I can’t burden anyone with this. Make them feel obligated to help the blind man.”
“Hope told me about how that dog, Wolf, acts around you,” he pressed on. “She mentioned it because she thought it was interesting how he seems to respond to you. Not because she knows.”
The color drained from Coop’s face, and he raked his fingers across his head. He limped over to a secondhand recliner angled in front of his TV and slumped into it.
The explosion that had ripped through Cooper’s leg had also killed his K-9 dog, a Belgian Malinois. His dog had rotated through other handlers, but the incredible bond he’d shared with Coop was almost legend around the base. Ben knew that losing his dog in the line of duty had been a massive setback in Coop’s physical and emotional recovery. Cooper shook his head, but couldn’t look Ben in the eye.
“Wolf is a golden retriever. I’m not crazy, but clearly you are if you think some dog would get to me.”
No doubt it had. “The way I see it, you can’t stay away from that place because of the woman and the dog.”
“Says the man who refuses to set foot in the place because he can’t handle the memory of his wife.”
“This isn’t about me. This is about you living out your life stuck in this apartment. Is that how it’s going to be? No purpose? No life? Afraid to talk to a woman? Afraid to work? What happened to ‘once a marine, always a marine’? Even if you’re dead. So losing your vision? Suck it up, because you’re right—some of us have lost a lot more.”
Cooper pushed against his good leg, stood, then lunged at Ben.
Mission accomplished.
*
HOPE HURRIED ALONG the shoveled sidewalk that led from the post-office entry to the rack where she’d chained her bike. Ben had left the house to take care of something work related, and Nina had come to get the boys earlier so that Hope could get some errands done while Maddie was still at school. Hope had spoken to her family twice since she’d arrived in the US, but the time difference was a challenge. In any case, she wanted to send postcards to Chuki, Simba, her parents and Jack and Anna. Postcards were more fun, in her opinion. She also let all of them know that she planned to give them their Christmas gifts in person.
The air had warmed up slightly in the past few days, enough to melt what hadn’t been plowed, but still cold. Even so, after her near-breakneck slip this morning—which Ben was never going to hear about—on a patch that had refrozen overnight, she was trying to stick to the more salted areas.
She rubbed her nose with the back of her glove and sniffed from the cold. She turned the corner, ready to unlock her bike. Zoe’s bike.
It was gone.
She stopped in her tracks, every panicked breath swirling like smoke in the air. She looked down the walk she’d just come from and back again. It was purple. It would stand out. How could she have lost it or let it get stolen? She was sure she’d turned the combination on the lock. It took a few miserable seconds for her to recognize Ben’s vehicle a few spots down. He held a hand up to signal her. Oh, dear heaven, thank God. The bike was safe. But what in the world was he doing here?