Fade In

by Mabie, M.

  The more wine I drink, the more Ben's letter beckons to me from the kitchen.

  Read me. Tick-tock. Drink. Read me. Repeat.

  I finally break down and rip it open. I don't even bother sitting, choosing to stand and read it at the counter.

  Tatum,

  I wish I would have caught you before you left yesterday. I came by your room. It's killing me that I'm writing you all of this in a letter, but I'm at a loss for what to do.

  My name is Benjamin Meade. Dr. Benjamin Meade—for the sake of clarity.

  I know you don't remember the first day we met. You were leaving my brother's office. I'd met him in the city for lunch and you had an appointment with him after we returned. I know it wasn't right, but I eavesdropped on the whole thing. Something about you seized me. I couldn't help myself. I heard your voice laughing and I was so captivated. (I still am.)

  My heart recognized yours even before we'd met, I think.

  Then you left. Or I thought you did.

  Then, you ran into me and knocked me down. Remember? That was me. Ben Meade. I was still a student. You were so frantic and perfectly insane. You had on a blue dress and looked beautiful. I remember, you had on these funny underwear and were running late for an interview. You were a force I couldn't tear my eyes from.

  We parted that day, and I wondered for the longest time where the funny girl was or what you were doing. What would have happened if I'd taken that cab with you or got your phone number.

  That one encounter always stood out in my mind. You didn't know it then, and you wouldn't know it now if I weren't telling you, but just the thought of you helped me through a lot of rough times.

  My best friend, Keith Harris, who I told you a little about, came back from Afghanistan that week you ran into me. Well, what was left of him did. I don't think he really ever came back to tell you the truth. He was broken and hurt far greater than the hospitals could mend.

  I had gone to school to become a therapist, mostly to help people like my parents deal with life and help trauma patients recover.

  But I couldn't help Keith. I was there for him as much as I could've been, but eventually he died of an overdose.

  I left my residency and job and Washington. I came to New York get away for a while and figure out things.

  I was furious at myself. I couldn't help him and I’d been trained to. I let him down, and that was something I couldn't face. I didn't even know if I wanted to.

  Then, I heard your voice again. I was in my brother's office bringing by some papers for my apartment and you were there. I stayed in the back.

  That was another mistake. I should have just gone up and said hello to you that day. I should have. I didn't. I heard my brother telling you about seeing a psychiatrist and how you didn't want to. I heard everything you talked about. And I agreed.

  It was the wrong thing, but I looked up your address in their files after you left. I had to see you. Somehow get to know you.

  It was totally coincidental that you were having interviews that day. I still don't know what drew me to your door. I didn't know what I'd say when you opened the door or if you would even be home. That part is a mystery to even me.

  I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I wanted to so many times. In Seattle, when I was dealing with grief about Keith, I wanted to tell you then. There were other times too, almost every day.

  I'm sorry that I wasn't strong enough to be myself, to be a man you deserve. It was stupid. The irony of telling you to open up isn't lost me. I know how hard it was for you. Hell, it was so hard I couldn't even do it.

  I was lost, too. I'd lost my best friend when I should have been the one to help him. So, when I saw an opportunity to start over, even for just a little while, I took it.

  Tatum, I love you. I've loved you for so long.

  I should have told you. I wanted to tell you in the closet that night, but I just couldn't say those words before I told you the truth.

  I messed it all up. I should have come clean on day one or any of those times you tried to get me to. And I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I hurt us, because I think we were the real thing.

  I'm sorry I didn't trust us enough to tell you sooner, but if I had to do it over and miss out on waking up with you in my arms or hearing you tell me you love me...I would do it again. Every second I spent with you made me better. You healed me.

  There's nothing more that I want than to be the one you can lean on. The one you rely on. There's no one else I want to kiss or touch or laugh with. I'm in deeper than I ever dreamed. I don't know how to recover from this. I want you. I want us, for always.

  I'm so in love with you.

  Forgive me.

  Your,

  Benny

  I've read it over and over for an hour. His words. The truth that I wanted to know all along. I've cried hundreds of tears and now my shirt is wet around the collar.

  The ache from missing him in this moment is crippling. The thought of never seeing or talking to him again has been like a lead weight in my chest, ever present and growing every day.

  I can pretend that it doesn't hurt in front of most people. I can even fool myself for small pieces of time.

  Then, I see him in my kitchen cooking. My phone will ring and I'll pray that it's him. I sometimes look at myself in the mirror after a shower and gaze at the places he last touched, closing my eyes and trying like hell to feel him.

  I crave him so badly that I almost don't care what he's done or that he lied to me for so long.

  After reading and rereading the note, I know that I have to call him. If that was the note that was in the flowers that Phil brought up, like I knew it was, then he would have written it over two months ago.

  What if he gave up? Moved away? Changed his mind?

  I look out the windows and all I can see is the rain pelting the streets below. The street lights shake and the gutters along the streets look like rivers. I wonder where he is.

  I wish he were with me.

  I want him with me.

  I need him with me.

  I need my phone! I have to talk to him. I love him.

  When I pick up my phone to call his number, I only hesitate for a second out of fear. The kind of fear that Cooper told me about. The kind that means something. The kind of fear you only get from love.

  I'm going to be strong. I'm going to tell him what I want. I have to try or I'll always wonder if I’m the one who made the biggest mistake of all.

  The numbers press in sequence like I’d just dialed them yesterday, but the line is all static and just went to this beeping bullshit. I try again. What the hell!

  I go to my home phone and dial his number from there, hoping that I can at least get a connection. Not knowing what I'm going to say if he answers, I run through the motion of his numbers for the third time in only seconds.

  It finally rings, but only once before he answers. “Tatum?”

  It's him. His voice. My Ben.

  “Hi.”

  “Are you all right?” His end of the line sound noisy and he's yelling into his cell. “Can't hear you!”

  “Where are you?”

  “I'm walking back to my place. Where are you?”

  “I'm home.” I can't wait any longer and shout a little, wanting him to hear me. “Ben, I miss you.” My voice cracks.

  “You do?” It's still so staticky.

  “I do!” The line clears, but I still shout. I miss you!”

  He chuckles, and for the first time in weeks, I think there's blood pumping through my veins again. “I'll be there in ten minutes.” He hangs up.

  Our places aren't that far apart, but the storm’s really starting to pick up. The flickering lights dim before going off completely few times and then come back on. The wind blows hard enough that it sounds like screeching against my windows.

  The funny thing is that I can't move. I knew that I should probably be getting candles ready or looking for my flashlights, but who am I kidding? I'm dam
n near blind and not too worried about the dark. I've been readying myself for it for a long time.

  I buzz down to Phil and tell him that Ben is coming and to just let him up.

  The minutes tick by endlessly. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty.

  Waiting next to the door like a child for a parent to get home from work, I open it the second knocks.

  The very sight of him steals my breath away. Ben's here in the hall, drenched, water pouring off of him. He chases his breath and looks worn.

  “I don't like storms,” he reminds me.

  “I know. Come in here.” I show him in and go for towels. I remember that he has some clothes left behind and fetch them for him as well. “Here, get dry. You'll get sick.”

  His hair is a little longer than it was the last time I saw him and he's sporting a short beard. I want to touch it but control my hands. I don’t know what to say or do.

  I totally didn't think this through. What if he has gotten over it? What if he was mad at me too since I just gave up and didn't let him explain?

  The only way to know was to ask. No more hiding.

  When he returns to the living room, he’s drying his hair with a towel. He says, “I was looking for these. I missed 'em.” Gesturing to the dry pajama pants and t-shirt he is wearing now. He is kind of smiling, and oh, how I've missed it.

  “They were here. I should have called you.” I start towards him.

  “Tatum, I understand. What I did... It was...”

  “Wrong,” I finish for him.

  His shoulders deflate some. “Yeah.”

  “So…” I say, shifting my weight back and forth from one foot to the other.

  He looks shocked. “So? I didn't tell you my real name. That's a little bit bigger than so.”

  “I know, but... I just read your letter.”

  He looks to the table where it sits and to the counter where the ripped open envelope lies.

  “You just read it today?” His voice is relieved.

  “Mmm hmmm. I just couldn't do it yet. It hurt too much.” My shaking fucking lip. I'm seriously considering botulism.

  Ben closes the space between us just as the lights go out. We face each other there in the dark.

  “But then I just missed you and I wanted to know what it said.”

  He exhales his words like he's been holding them for weeks. “You missed me?”

  “I just wasn't ready for the truth yet. I was scared to find out if everything you'd said to me was shit, you know?” I sobbed. “I just wanted it to be true so bad.”

  “It was, baby. I just messed up. It was us.” His arms reach out to my arms and he shakes them a little like he's trying to get my attention. “Tatum, that was us. That was all us.”

  “It was?” I can't help but cry. Hot tears roll down my cheeks and neck in steady streams that lead right to my heart. “Do you really love me?”

  “More every day. I thought if I just gave you some space you'd want to talk. When you didn't, I just kept waiting. Hoping.” His voice quivers. “I want you.”

  “What do we do?” Such a simple question. I don't want to start over. I don't want to say goodbye. I just want to go back to where we already were.

  The thunder claps and rattles the windows. I take his hand and move through my apartment with ease, knowing where everything is. Ben bumps along behind me as I pull him.

  “We should get away from those windows.” I walk us into the closet.

  I don't know why, but it seems like the safest place, with no glass to shatter from the beating that the wind was dishing out.

  Kneeling down onto the floor, I drag him down with me. It feels a little like déjà vu. I'm in the same spot he found me in only a few months ago. Where he kissed me for the first time. Where I told him that I was all in.

  “Remember what you said in here that night, Ben?” I ask, thinking back to my drunken pity party.

  He brings a hand to my face and runs his fingers through my hair. “I remember.”

  “Then prove it. You said that you didn't want just part of me, that you wanted all of me, and that you'd never stop.” I climbed over to his lap. “Please. Please don't stop.”

  “God knows, Tatum. I can't. I won't.” His breaths rush out with his words.

  I need him. My lips crush into his. I want him to be mine again.

  To hell with what happened. He was who I needed. He is who I need.

  Between out broken kisses, he declares, “I'm sorry, baby. I never meant to hurt you. I love you.”

  “I love you,” I breath heavily with every ounce of emotion I have back into his mouth.

  He promises, “I'll fix it. I love you.”

  “Just trust me.” It's funny coming from my mouth. I trust people, close people, but I never really thought about someone else trusting me before. “Please, I want all of you. I want the Ben who makes funny stories up about the strangers with me. I want the Ben who wears glasses because he knows I like looking at him in them and not because he needs them. I want the Ben who brings me schmear. Benny, I want the bad parts, too.” Then my lips find his again, like I was thirsty for only him for months and I was just now getting a precious sip. “I want you.”

  “I'm yours, baby. Everything. No more secrets. No more lies. I swear, I'll tell you so much about me you'll change your mind about me. Honest, you get my everything.” He thumbs away my tears and kisses my eyes tenderly. “No more crying.”

  We wait the storm out in my closet that night, talking and spilling our guts to one another. He holds me to him the whole night.

  He tells me about how his brother almost kicked his ass when he learned about that he'd done. Picturing Dr. Meade as his brother is strange, but after I think on it a while, I can see it.

  I tell him about seeing my new doctors and the things that I've learned while we were apart. He listens closely as I tell him about Jenn, my new PA, and how she's pretty good but I've had better.

  He's planned to finish his residency in NYC and is getting rid of his place in D.C.

  Late that night, we fall asleep in the middle of a hurricane in New York City. It is the best sleep I've had in a long time. Around five or six in the morning, I sense him picking me up and carrying me to my bed. He climbs in with me and we sleep some more.

  It's like coming home.

  It’s not until a few hours later do I realize just how bad the storm actually was. Upon getting up, I see outside and discover that the streets are a mess. Everything was thrown around. The awnings have been ripped off the building across the street from mine, and even some windows were blown out down the block.

  We don't even leave my apartment all day.

  I made my peace with Ben's brother, the evil Dr. Meade, and returned to his care. Then Ben moved into my apartment around Christmas. It was silly for him to have that great big place only blocks away when we always stayed at my place anyway.

  He didn't have a lot of stuff, and I made concessions to fit him in. I lost some closet space but gained a personal shampooer. Even though much wasn't lost, we made up for all of our time apart.

  I think I benefited from the apartment merge more than he did. His books lined all of my bookshelves where tchotchkes and things had previously been displayed. The books were an improvement to my apartment—just like Ben was to my life.

  Ben continued to teach me how to cook. He kept it pretty basic after my chili disaster. He literally called his Moo-Moo to see if there was anything we could do to salvage it. She told him to put it in the trash. He said that we would try again, but I just left him to the chili from there on out.

  We went to Ben's parents’ house that Thanksgiving. It was strange seeing my optometrist outside of his office, but it was also kind of nice. It was easy and comfortable. I felt like I already knew them, because I did.

  It was fascinating to watch Ben's parents. Gayle and Bill moved effortlessly around their home, and it gave me a sense of peace. Both of them are smart, and they actually read a lot. They gave me a few book
printed in Braille so I could practice.

  When they handed them to me, I was thankful that they couldn't see my blush. Ben's really ruined me on reading. We can never get very far—only a few pages at a time.

  Cooper knocked up Winnie that winter on accident. His words, not mine. Winnie still did the movie since she wasn't really showing and wound up getting a few pretty great award nominations for best comedic actress. She didn't win, but she was happy all the same.

  Just Kidding lasted another season after that. Then the Devons got their own show on a cable network and took Neil and Cynthia with them when they left for California. We still talk often, and it isn't that uncommon for them to call when they're stuck on something they are working on or arguing about.

  Devon and Cynthia got married about a year after their move. You're welcome, Mr. And Mrs. Little Devon.

  My sight dropped off a little more over those years but never left me completely blind. It was a struggle at times, but I was also lucky.

  Ben proposed to me one night while lying in bed. There was nothing showy about it. He said, “You're it for me, Tatum. Please be my wife. I love you.” How could I say no to that? I wouldn't have anyway.

  I was fortunate enough to see with my own eyes the tears that fell from Ben's on our wedding day as I walked down the aisle towards him—a precious gift I thank God for every day. He cried through the entire ceremony. He was a pussy like me.

  Between you and me, it made me love him more.

  I wore a killer, custom-made gown from an upcoming designer Winnie had recommended. It was a mermaid-style strapless dress that my dad said made me look like a classic movie star. I wore my hair down, since it had grown out some, and had it styled in soft waves.

  As he promised me in his personal vows to “give me all of himself, guard my heart like it was his own, and laugh at all my ridiculous jokes,” he slipped a ring on my finger and made me Mrs. Tatum Meade.

  I'll proudly wear both—the name and the jewelry—for the rest of my life.

  I remember meeting Ben on that first day. I mean, I didn't remember him when we met again, but I remember that day and the guy who tried to grab my ass on the street. I tease him and tell him that I knew the whole time, but he knows better.