“So, you knew all of that, when I called you on Christmas? Why didn’t you tell me then?”
Carter shakes his head and sighs, “Quinn, that would have ruined the last few days of your trip, no way was I doing that with you that far away.”
The last few words make me pause. He was worried I’d do something stupid. Like the last time things were rough with Ben and I ended up in the hospital. But that was completely different and had little to do with Ben and more to do with the fact that I was seriously out of my mind for a while. I’ve done so much better since then. I went to therapy for months, I took the meds they gave me. I’ve changed. Right?
“What was the point in telling you anyway? It could be nothing, Quinnlette. I mean, maybe they just ran into each other, I don’t know.”
I nod, swallowing hard, trying to drown the lump in my throat.
“Maybe he—”
“Carter, just stop.” My voice is barely above a whisper. “Please.” The last word squeaks out like air coming out of a balloon. Pathetic.
Carter obediently clamps his mouth shut. I’ve spent my life worrying about losing people because of my own stupidity, it just never occurred to me before now that I could actually lose someone I love because of something completely out of my hands.
“I’m sorry for snapping,” I say. “I’m just worried…He should be home by now, right? So where is he?”
Carter shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe bad weather or something out that way. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”
And then what?
“Thanks again, for coming to get me.”
“Don’t mention it. You’d do it for me.”
And it’s true. I had rushed off to pick Carter up from the airport before. That summer I met Ben, when everything had just begun. When everything was new and scary, but it was a different the fear I have right now.
Ben didn’t even try to kiss me good-bye. What the hell? Does he want to keep this platonic or something? Because I sort of had the feeling that you could cut the chemistry with a knife. Did my hair look ridiculous? Was the braid too cutesy to warrant a kiss?
“Gripes!” I yell. I slammed my hand hard onto the steering wheel as I came close to sailing right past my exit while pondering the reason behind Ben’s chastity.
I pulled into the airport drop-off lane and reached across to fling the passenger door open before even coming to a complete stop, knowing the security guard was eyeing me with a warning glare.
“Late much?” Carter said. He threw his duffle bag into the cluttered backseat and tossed several empty Mountain Dew bottles off of the passenger seat.
“Sue me.”
“Held up at school?”
“Something like that,” I mused.
“Jesus, I’ve been here for thirty minutes and this humidity is already killing me.” Carter cranked the air up to the sub- arctic setting.
“Get used to it. It’s good to see you, bro,” I said.
“You too, Quinnlette.” He ruffled my hair the way you would expect a grandparent to.
“Don’t do that! You just pulled the braid out of my bangs. And don’t call me that, either. I’m not nine.”
“Oh chill, you’re still my little sister, I’ll call you what I want.”
Carter and I fought, but I adored him to pieces.
“You didn’t forget me, did you?” Carter asked, flicking my arm.
“Never.” Yes.
“How’s mom?” Carter didn’t let his eyes drift from his lap when he asked.
“Same.” I shrugged. I wanted to tell him about the nights that Dad had been sneaking out of the house after Mom had passed out. How some nights, he crept back in, clothes all disheveled as if he has just woken up somewhere else. And some nights, he didn’t even come home at all. But I couldn’t. Carter would have confronted him, and that would have just made things even worse at home. At that time, I didn’t even know if I was right or not. It was better to just keep it to myself.
“So, what’s up with you and that girl, what’s her name? Casey?” I strained my brain to remember the blond from his Facebook picture. “What else is going on? Tell me everything.”
“Capri? Nothing’s up, we had fun while it lasted. But, ah, Quinnlette, I’m amazing. California is rad. It is so good to be back there. How about you, what’s new? What’d you learn at school today?” Carter joked.
I smiled a small, secret grin.
That day, I learned that the boys you haven’t yet kissed can be even more special than the ones you have.
“We’re home, Quinnlette,” Carter shakes my shoulder gently. “Jet lag?”
I peel my face off of the passenger side window. It’s stuck nicely while I slept and wipe the sleep from my eyes.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to doze off.”
Maybe it was a dream. Maybe Ben is sitting right inside our apartment, tinkering with those damned antique cameras he keeps on the top of the bookshelf that I’ll never be able to reach. It drives me crazy that he does that, keeping things just out of my reach. Maybe that’s what he was all along. If that’s the case, why the fuck did I let myself fall in love with him? I suddenly long to be the same damaged Quinn I was a year ago, so I could just lock myself up in my room and medicate the pain away.
“I’m right down the hall if you need anything else, Quinnlette. I know Shayna’s pumped you’re home, so come over anytime,” Carter says after helping me lug my suitcase into my deserted apartment.
“Thanks,” I say. I’m glad that he doesn’t try to hug me when he leaves. I feel like if he did, it would make me crumble rather than hold me together.
When Carter leaves, I stand at the doorway staring at the apartment. It looks exactly the same as when I left a month ago. But everything feels different.
I sort of thought that things would stay just like they were before I left. I guess it was naïve, and even selfish, but I really thought things would continue existing like I’d never left. But standing here in my own space, surrounded by my own things, things that Ben and I share, I know that everything has changed. I’ll never be able to go back to my exact self before I left for Italy. I’ll never see things so one-sided. Cut and dry. Black or white. Things are complex. People are complex. And Ben being with Caroline, well, that changes everything, too.
I start to unpack, but decide to make some tea (tea, since I know that no cup of coffee that I make will compare to the Caffè alla Nocciola that Amalea made me the first day I arrived in Italy), grab a blanket off of our bed and curl up on the sofa, tucking my legs under me tightly. But no matter how much I reposition myself, I can’t fight off the sick feeling tumbling inside of me. I have no interest in TV or the stack of magazines on the coffee table. I just want to know where Ben is and that he’s okay. Because aside from the fact that he was with Caroline, where is he now? He hasn’t answered our calls. Does he plan on coming home at all?
I don’t know what time it is when I feel his lips on my forehead. I fell asleep at some point after calling him an insane amount of times, nearing the triple digits for sure. I don’t have to open my eyes to be certain that it’s him. There are things that you can never forget, and even though it’s been a month, the feeling of Ben’s lips on me is one feeling forever engrained in my mind.
For a split second, I sink further into that perfect place between asleep and awake and savor the familiar touch, content to be home and know that Ben’s here and safe. Knowing that once I open my eyes, the things that might-be will turn into things that are, and I’m not ready to deal with any of them.
Painful reality sets in too quickly though, and the questions all return.
My eyes gape open.
My fear and anger and insecurity are all present and accounted for, but I can’t help but stop and take him in. God, I’ve missed him.
“Where—”
Ben pulls me in so tightly, it cuts off the words. His lips are on mine, his tongue tracing the inside of my mouth before I can push him away, or even want to. His hand slips
up the back of my shirt, to the spot on the small of my back that he loves so much, and presses me in even closer. The warmth and familiarity of him—his touch alone is enough to bring me to my knees. This is how our reunion should have gone. Instead, I was left at the airport. Alone.
I push on his chest to shove him away, shattering the moment— maybe our last one.
“Where were you? I waited,” I say.
Ben tightens his jaw and closes his eyes.
“I’m so sorry, I tried to get back here, I just, I was late to the airport and had to get the next flight, and the layover in Denver, Jesus Christ, I thought it’d never end—”
“I sat on the curb and waited, Ben. Carter had to come and pick me up.”
The mention of Carter’s name is like an ugly cloud floating above Ben and me. He and I just stand there, waiting for the rain to start and drown us.
Ben reaches for my arm, but I jerk it away. It feels foreign to pull away from him. Like my body doesn’t want to do it, but it has no choice. Like pulling away from a flame, because you know you’ll be burnt.
“I know you know,” he says, shifting his weight. “I can explain.”
“I don’t know if you can,” I say. “Did you go there to see her?”
I cross my arms across my chest, creating a barrier between Ben and I, trying to protect my heart. I don’t know how we got here.
“Yes.”
The simple answer drops off of his lips and suddenly, everything in our world is anything but simple.
“Why, Ben? What are you doing?” I am trying, I really am trying to wrap my mind around what possible explanation he can have that will make this all clear. But I can’t think of any scenario that I’m okay with.
“It’s not what you’re thinking. I went because she was in a bad place, she needed someone.”
“In Atlanta? That doesn’t even make any sense.” I shake my head. Does he think I’m an idiot?
“She’s sort of living with my parents,” he says.
Time stops. Reverses. It’s two years earlier, and I’m driving to that asshole Mark’s house after my run-in with my dad’s barely-legal teenage mistress. I’m furious and hurt and I just want Ben to be there for me. But instead, he calls with the news that Caroline, his angelic ex that his mom adores is coming to stay with him. And nothing was the same after that.
“Wait, I’m sorry, Caroline is living with your parents?” Is this real life? “So, your ex can move into their house, but they made you choose between them and me?” It’s too much. Ben could have this great life, if he would have just walked away from me. But he didn’t. I can’t make sense of it. It doesn’t compute. “You chose me. And then went running back to her? I don’t understand.”
Silence.
“What happened? Were you with her?”
“It’s not like that.”
“That’s not a denial.”
He doesn’t reply. Maybe he doesn’t have a good answer. Maybe he’s thinking about the perfect way to explain, but my mind can’t seem to piece together where we went wrong. Was it because I left for Italy? He encouraged me. This isn’t fair. This is crazy.
I stare at Ben, who is kicking at the Berber carpet with the toe of his Chuck Taylor.
How did we get to the point where I feel like the sane one? Somehow, we ended up in this foreign place where Ben is the one standing here with wild, out-of-control eyes.
It used to be me that was causing pain. Setting fires that couldn’t be put out and walking away. I’ll be honest, it was easier that way. Because just looking at him is hard enough. And forgiving? Well, that feels completely out of the question right now. I want to ask him how he did it. You know, when the situation was reversed? How was he able to stash that pain aside and still want to be with me. Because I don’t think I’m that big of a person. Or strong enough. Or any of those good things that people aspire to be. I’m just a girl who was broken, who’s barely had time to heal. And now, the person that claims to love me most— has just destroyed my world.
“Can you please stop doing that?” I finally break the silence. Ben obediently steadies his foot.
“I can explain it all. Just please come here,” he says.
“Is this, like a payback thing? Because of Mark? We aren’t past that?”
“Christ, Quinn, it’s nothing like that. You’re the one that kept encouraging me to go home for Christmas! There isn’t anything between Caroline and me. She needed a friend—”
“Just say it. Just say that she needed you. That you couldn’t resist running to her rescue.”
His face falls, and his expression looks like I’ve hit the nail right on the head.
“I couldn’t get ahold of you while I was gone. This is why?”
“No. Just, give me a second. Linney—”
“Oh, fuck you and your stupid pet names.” I can’t help but bite with venom that spews over into my words.
“Caroline was having a rough time at home,” Ben says.
“Cry me a river.” The ‘old Quinn’ is front and center.
“Quinn, I didn’t go out there looking for a relationship with Caroline. She moved to a different state because she had a psychotic ex bothering her. I mean, if you think about it, you could feel a little empathy for her after what Syd went through.”
“Don’t even bring Sydney into this.”
“You’re right, I’m not. I just want you to understand. I just went out there to be a friend to her.”
“I’m sure your mom loved that,” I say.
“Would you just stop? Just let me explain.” He pauses, and I sit back down on the sofa. He smartly takes the chair across from me, rather than next to me. “The reason Caroline had been calling before you left was because she wanted to let me know that she’d moved in with my parents. She called after you’d left and we talked and she just wasn’t in a good place, Quinn. So, yeah, I flew out there to see her. And my family. Caroline and I talked, I spent Christmas with her and my parents, we sorted some things out, and it was good. But I thought about you the entire time, Quinn. And I love you and I missed you like crazy.”
“Just not enough to answer the phone when I called, right? Why were you so late? Why did you leave me sitting at the airport without a call?”
“Quinn—” He reaches for me again, but I slouch away from his touch.
“Are you still in love with her?”
“Quinn, don’t.”
“No, that’s a fair question. Answer it.”
He rubs his palm along the several-day-old scruff of his cheek. He hasn’t shaved in days. Four, I’d guess. Does Caroline know things like that? What Ben’s stubble looks like day-to-day when he doesn’t shave?
“No. I’m not in love with her. I’m in love with you. I love you. I want you. Only you.”
“Then why did you do this?”
“Nothing happened. I swear to you, nothing.”
The thing is, I mostly believe him. But he’s wrong. Something did happen. He planted doubt. There was one thing that was always certain for me—and that was that I could trust him. And what he did, took that away.
“You disappeared. Wouldn’t answer my calls. Didn’t tell me where you were or when you’d be back. Because you were with your ex? You can’t undo that. If it was so innocent, why didn’t you at least tell me what was going on?”
“You’re right. I screwed up. But after what happened the last time Caroline came to stay with them…You were so far away, and I was worried about what you might do.”
“There it is!” I jump up from the sofa and walk to the door. “I knew that was coming. Way to throw my mistakes in my face. Thanks for giving me even a little credit, Ben.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, shit! I don’t know what to say. I just want us to be okay.”
I pull the door open.
“Well, we’re not. And you need to leave.”
“Quinn, can we just talk about this?” He keeps reaching for me, and I keep pulling back, each time, yanki
ng the front door open wider and wider. He wants to touch me. Like that will be the cure for this toxic situation. But it won’t. It’ll only make me hurt worse.
“No. And I’ll tell you why. Because I can’t stand your face right now. Go stay with Carter. Run back to Caroline. I don’t care. Just leave.”
He grabs the duffel bag he dropped by the front door on his way in and walks out. Gone. And for the second time, I’ve told Ben to leave. I’ve pushed him out of my life.
Maybe for good.
Alone.
Again.
I wake up on the sofa, drool running onto my hand, and the sound of knocking on the front door pounding in my ear drums.
I open the door just wide enough to see who it is.
"What are you doing here?" I ask. I fidget with the end of my braid, weaving my fingers in and out of the hair.
Ben pushes past me without bothering to answer.
Come on in, please.
"I know you asked me to go last night, I know," he says. His eyes are heavy. Red. Wounded.
“I did. So, maybe you could like, respect that?” I clutch my hip, trying to look like I’m standing firm, when really I’m just trying to steady myself.
"You've just got to understand. You’ve been gone for weeks. I haven’t seen you. I haven’t touched you….” I’m pissed. Beyond pissed. But the mention of his touch forces a chill down the length of my body. “And now you’re back and I’m supposed to stay away?”
His hand grazes over my shoulder lighter than a whisper. More like a memory.
"We've been over this," I say.
"We've been over a lot of things." he says. He rubs his scruffy, unshaved cheek. “We made it through last year. We can figure this out, too.”
"Maybe. Or maybe we just don't work. I mean, really. Did we ever even really have a chance? Did you ever feel the way that you said you did? Or is it that once you got me, you didn’t want me anymore?" I start back toward the front door and open it for him.
Take the hint, Ben. I don't have the willpower I used to. Not after everything we've been through.
“Don’t say that. I can fix this. We fixed it before. We can do it again.”
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