by Ivy Smoak
"You people? Wow. Okay. You're awfully condescending."
"The company you work for has a truck that literally says lawn care. Grow a pair and stop being so sensitive about your line of work."
He smiled and set down his glass. "First of all, it's my company. And second of all, you didn't bother to read the rest of the sign. It's a landscaping company. We do more than just mow lawns. And I can assure you that I already have a pair."
I gulped. Stop thinking about his balls. I tried to focus on the rest of his words. Landscaper? Huh. How had I missed that? Probably because I was too busy staring at his abs.
"Well, I’m not the only one in this room with flaws," I countered lamely. "It's way too early to drink. Is this a habit of yours?"
He laughed. "No. I was just trying to keep you company until your friend came. No one should have to drink alone." He set down his glass that was still half full.
I glared at him. The word alone was bouncing around in my head. I was alone. My days were consumed by nothing but my own thoughts. Why was I snapping at him? All he had done was help me. He could have been a complete ass. He could have laughed at me when I crushed the bags and the leaves went everywhere. Instead, he had helped me to my feet. He had given me whatever was in that glass. Which made my head slightly fuzzy. No, it wasn't like all the times I had met him in my dreams. In my dreams he never called me ma'am. But at least he was a gentleman.
"Thanks for not leaving me out there." It came out as a whisper. I wasn't sure why.
He raised his eyebrows, probably as shocked by the change of gears as I was. "Of course I didn't leave you out there. What kind of person would do that?"
I bit the inside of my lip. I know one. I studied his features. "How old are you?" I said instead, hoping to change the subject. He looked younger close up. The whole model facade made him look older. Or maybe I was usually just not looking at his face. Plus I had never been fortunate enough to be close to him before.
"That's rather forward." He put his elbows on his knees and leaned closer to me. "You haven't even asked me my name."
"Okay, smartass, what's your name?"
He laughed. "Ben."
"Ben..." I needed to know his last name too. One syllable wasn't enough.
"Jones."
Ben Jones? His name was too average for his looks. I had imagined his name was Noah Hays. I had screamed that name in my dreams too many times to count. But as I stared at him, Ben Jones grew on me. Ben. Benny. Benny boo. What am I doing? "It's nice to meet you, Ben Jones." I liked the way his name felt on my tongue.
He put his hand out. "The pleasure is all mine..."
He was waiting for my name. I was tempted to lie. To tell him my name was something common like Jane. Jane sounded good with Jones. Jane Jones. I almost laughed at the thought. I knew him for a few minutes and I was already imagining us getting married.
I cleared my throat, trying to rid myself of the fake name that wanted to escape. "Adeline." It sounded harsh. It always sounded harsh when I told people my name. That was one of the many reasons I hated it.
He reached forward and took my good hand in his. "Adeline. Such a unique name. It's beautiful."
No, it was just plain odd. But I guess that suited me. "Not as beautiful as Ben." What is wrong with me? Had I really just said that out loud?
He laughed.
Yup, I had drunk too much. I was starting to be embarrassing. I could feel the alcohol as it spread to my limbs. My arms felt heavier. My mind felt...giddier. I laughed.
"What's so amusing?" he asked.
"It's been a long time since I've had anything to drink. And this bourbon already made my arms feel heavy." I laughed again.
"Made your arms feel heavy? I haven't heard that one before. Also," he said and leaned forward to snag my glass away, "it's scotch. And I think I should cut you off."
"Right." I dropped my voice and added, "We wouldn't want anyone to know we drank some."
He raised both his eyebrows. "Mhm. You've definitely had too much to drink."
Maybe. I leaned forward. I wanted to be closer to him. Just for a second. I wanted to smell him again. I wanted his hand to be back on my waist. He didn't realize how desperate I was. How much I truly needed this moment.
"You're right about me, Ben."
He didn't inch away from me as I leaned forward. If anything, he seemed to move closer too.
"That's why I'm cutting you off," he said.
"No, no." I waved my arm through the air. "The other thing." I shifted my butt on the couch, trying to get more comfortable. Or maybe I was just retreating. He was too close. He was supposed to be left in my imagination. The fact that he was right in front of me was too real. "God, my ankle really hurts."
"Here." His hands moved to my foot and he started unlacing my shoe.
He's undressing me.
"What other thing?" he asked.
"Hmm?"
"You said I was right about you. And then you said it was the other thing."
"Oh." I laughed. "I run every day at 8 a.m. because I know this lawn is on your schedule at 8 a.m. on Thursdays. And also it's better to run the same time each day because your body likes routine. It's scientifically proven."
"I understand the premise of the workout. But why do you time it so that you can see me?" He gently pulled off my sneaker.
I immediately felt relief. "Obviously because I'm madly in love with you." It came out as an exhale. I didn't even have any control over it.
His stormy blues danced with amusement. "Yeah, I figured that."
I laughed. "I was joking, buddy."
He sat back down in his seat. Even though I was begging him with my eyes to join me on the couch.
"We're back to buddy? I thought we were on a first name basis now."
I ignored him. "You never told me how old you were."
"Twenty three. And you?"
Only twenty three? He really was young. Of course he was. He mowed lawns for a living. He's a landscaper, I reminded myself. But wasn't that all the same? No wonder he had called me ma'am. "Older than you."
He smiled. "Well, I wouldn't have guessed that. What are you then, twenty five? Twenty six?"
I just turned thirty a few weeks ago. Thirty. I was officially a ma'am. I'd never speak to him again after this. What did it matter if he knew I was an old lady? "I just turned thirty actually."
He made this adorable whistling noise that put the smile back on my face.
"You don't look thirty. Not that it's bad that you are. I just would have assumed you were in your mid-twenties."
"Sure. You called me ma'am."
"I was being respectful."
"That's something you call old ladies."
He put his elbows back on his knees. "Trust me, that is not the way I intended it."
"Ben."
"Adeline."
"Oh, God, don't call me that."
"What would you prefer that I call you?"
"My friends call me Addy." A lie. I no longer had any friends. And when I was little, my mother forced me to go by Adeline. She said I'd never get ahead with a name like Addy and that she had given me the elegant name for a reason. And that reason wasn't to chop it in half.
"Addy, then, it was never my intention to make you feel old. Or demean you in any way."
“Then what was your intention? To get me drunk? And then what?”
I watched his Adam’s apple rise and then fall. That wasn’t in my head. It was an actual reaction to my words. He liked me too. Maybe we could still pop a few buttons.
“What do you think?” he asked.
He was saying all the right things. He was almost too kind. Too perfect. Especially for a twenty three year old male. He should have been out with his friends smoking reefer, not starting his own landscaping business. He looked young, but he acted mature. And I couldn't help but wonder how mature he'd be in the bedroom. Would he care about my needs? Or would he just get off as soon as possible? What am I doing?
He's twenty three. He's not going to seduce you, you old hag.
I drank too much. And my libido was on too high of an alert. It was safer to go home, lock the door, and pretend this never happened. "I think that maybe it might be best if you could take me home?" Just because he knew where I lived, it didn't mean he'd stalk me. I was the stalker in this equation.
His smiled faded.
The expression made my chest ache. How could I already love his smiles so much?
"Yeah, of course. But what about your friend? I thought you wanted to wait for her?"
"She was still in the waiting room. She was going to be forever."
His smile faded even more.
He thinks you don't want to sit here with him. How wrong he was. This was the highlight of my month. My year. The past decade.
"Let me grab those crutches for you then."
"Oh, no need. I'll just stay off my feet until it's better."
He laughed as he stood up. "Don't be ridiculous." He wandered out into the hall and came back a few moments later carrying a pair of crutches. He was really helping himself to these people's possessions. I watched as he adjusted the height of them, lowering them to a position he thought would fit me.
Without asking permission, his hands were back on me, pulling me to my feet, arousing me.
Don't let me go. Don't send me back to my solitude. A horrible realization had just settled around me. I was hurt. I couldn't run next Thursday. And fall was ending soon. There wouldn't be any reason for him to mow this lawn in the coming weeks. When would I see him next? The panic was rising in my chest. How was I supposed to breathe without Thursdays?
Once the realization hit, everything sped up. Before I even realized it, he was pulling his truck into my driveway. No. I couldn't imagine leaving his truck. It smelled like him with a hint of more grass in the air. I was obsessed with the smell. Just as obsessed as I was with him.
He cut the engine.
My breath hitched. He couldn't come in. Why did he stop the truck? What was he doing? My mind was at war with itself. Come in. I wanted to beg him. I wanted to get down on my hands and knees and beg him to stay. It felt like I was seconds away from bursting into tears. The war in my mind was too intense. Especially when the choice was so obvious.
"If you want, I can swing by tomorrow or something?" he said. "I'll bring you lunch. It'll be too hard for you to move around."
Please. "That's not necessary..."
"Really, I don't mind. I did put those bags on the curb. It's my fault that you're hurt."
It was your abs' fault. "I'll be okay, Ben." I pushed open the door and managed to somehow climb out of his truck without hurting myself even further. I pulled out the crutches behind me without making eye contact with him.
"Let me at least help you get inside..."
"I'm fine." The words were harsh. Much too harsh. And even more untrue. I'm so sorry. But I needed him to hate me. I needed to make sure he'd never come back. It was for his own safety.
"Addy?"
My whole life, I had so badly wanted someone to call me that. And from his lips? The sound was too sweet. I didn't deserve sweet.
"Can I at least..."
I slammed the door closed to muffle his words. I didn't look back as I limped up the sidewalk.
Chapter 6
The sobs I had been holding escaped my throat when I closed the front door behind me. They raked my whole body. I would have been stumbling even if I wasn't balancing on crutches. I needed my medicine. That was the reason I was feeling this way. I was late taking it, and it was the only thing that could calm me down.
I hobbled into the kitchen and threw open the drawer where I kept my pills. At least, the ones I wasn't hiding. My fingers wrapped around the container I needed and I fumbled with the lid. Why do they make these so freaking hard to open? I knocked the container to the floor and the pills spilled in every direction. They rolled across the spotless tiles, under the table, under the oven. Damn it.
I crouched down to grab one off the floor and winced at the pain in my ankle. Down on all fours on the cold tile, I had an epiphany. I was in pain. Not just physically, but mentally. Anguish. My mind was full of complete and utter anguish.
I wiped away the tears under my eyes. It had been the first time in months that I cried. That I felt anything but fear. I didn't want to be numb anymore. I didn't want to take the pills. Why were they forcing me to take them? Why didn't I have a choice? I deserved a say in my own damned life.
This time, I didn't worry about the neighbors overhearing me. I screamed at the top of my lungs. I screamed and tore the drawer from its hinges, dumping the contents to the floor.
I let myself feel. I let myself hurt. I let myself remember.
Until I couldn't bear it. Until I couldn't shed another tear. Until my body was as exhausted as my mind.
My fingers wandered across the floor until I found a sleeping pill. I was done with the others. But I couldn't take any more pain today. I placed it in my mouth and swallowed it down without any water. And then I curled up on the cold floor and willed sleep to come.
***
The light shining harshly through the window woke me up. The setting sun always seemed to weasel its way through the closed blinds. I blinked and sat up off the floor. I had slept through the whole day. I couldn’t remember the last time I had slept so soundlessly.
But at what cost? My back ached and the pain in my ankle was throbbing. The combination of my swollen ankle and the pills scattered around the kitchen brought everything back to me.
I had been so close to him. Ben. I smiled to myself. Ben Jones. So close, and I pushed him away. Why? I wrapped my arms around myself. His touch had heated me. And now I’d never see him again. I couldn’t walk. Soon the air would turn cold and crisp, and the grass would stop growing. I’d have to wait until the spring. A whole winter without him seemed impossibly daunting.
I eyed the pills on the floor. It was tempting to take one. I was supposed to take one. Instead, I crawled around the floor, pushing all the pills along with me. When I reached the sink I stood up on my good leg and dumped all the pills in the sink.
My fingers flipped the switch and the garbage disposal churned to life. I took a long, slow breath as I watched my pills being ground to dust. My mind was clearer than it had been in months. I knew exactly what I was doing. My memories made sense. I had slept for once. I felt great.
I looked down at my ankle. And for the first time, I realized I had left my shoe at my neighbor’s house. Sitting in their pristine living room. A laugh escaped my throat. What on earth would they think about that? If Ben was having an affair with the woman that lived there, she’d be furious when she saw it. She’d think he was cheating on her. She’d break up with them.
A smile had formed on my lips. I laughed and shook away the thought. It didn’t matter what Ben Jones’ relationship status was. I was never going to see him again.
I hopped over to the fridge and pulled open the door to the freezer. The effort made me yawn. I could get used to this new exhaustion. Sleeping was better than being conscious. As long as my dreams didn’t morph into nightmares. I pulled out an ice pack and slowly made my way toward the living room.
The room was as barren as my neighbors’. Like them, I also didn’t have a family. There were no messy kids running around leaving sticky fingerprints everywhere. No one to bring laughter to my home. And there never would be. I swallowed down the lump in my throat.
Normally, I never stepped foot in the living room. But I was somehow still exhausted. The stairs weren’t an option right now. I collapsed on the sofa. Before my eyelids shut, I couldn’t help but realize that my walls were bare too. Not completely. Expensive artwork was displayed. But there wasn’t a single picture of me. Which was odd, because I had so many pictures.
Chapter 7
My eyes flew open. It felt like my heart was beating faster than it ever had. God. The dream had been so real. I took a deep breath to calm
my rapid heart rate. It was like Ben was right here. Holding me. Kissing me. I touched the side of my neck. His lips had felt so real. The coolness of my fingertips was jarring. Why was it so cold in here? I reached for a blanket but remembered I wasn’t in my bed.
A knock on the door almost caused me to tumble off the couch. But I caught myself at the last second. Pain seared in my left hand. The one that Ben had bandaged. No wonder it was so easy to dream about his touch.
Another knock.
Go away. Was that what had startled me awake? A knock? No one ever knocked on my door beside for the mailman. And we had an understanding. He always left any packages on the doorstep because he knew I refused to answer. One time he had seen me staring through the curtain at him. He had waved. I had let the curtains fall back into place. Now we understood each other. Or so I thought.
I closed my eyes and readjusted myself on the couch. He’d go away. Unless it was a substitute. A sub would be more persistent if something needed signing. Had I even ordered anything recently?
Another knock made me groan. Jesus. Just leave! No mailman tried this hard. Actually, it was probably too late in the day for the mailman. It was…I swallowed hard when I looked at my watch. 11:45 a.m.? I sat back up with a start. How was that possible? I stared at the closed blinds. Light was streaming in through the slits. I had slept all day and all night? My stomach rumbled at the thought of all the missed meals.
I put my hand on my forehead. Sleeping pills had never worked well on me. I’d sleep for a few hours and then wake up restless. But I had slept for almost 24 hours straight.
The knocking had stopped. I was curious if he had decided to just leave the package. Or maybe there’d be a note for a redelivery date. I stood up on one leg and hopped to the front door.
All that sleep had given me more energy too. I felt like going for a run. If only I hadn’t ruined that for myself. Just thinking about not seeing Ben again made me want to cry. It was like I was an addict and he was my drug. How could I see him again? Get a wheelchair and roll down the street to the lawn he mowed? I needed to think of a way. That one encounter would never be enough.