I shook my head, a scoff coming out of my mouth. “I left you,” I repeated. “How do you figure that, Ben? I was here.” I pointed a finger at the floor. “Right here, in this room. You were gone. Basic math.”
“You were here,” he said, his eyes darkening as he stepped toward me again. His face showed something other than anger, however. Even in just seconds, I recognized pain. Hurt. Betrayal. The way his eyes used to look after his father would go at him. “But you weren’t alone. Basic math.”
I blinked, running back through the memories as best I could, trying to match up what he was talking about. “What—I don’t underst—”
“I loved you,” he said, the words formed slow and emphatic. “I put everything I had out there on that roof. I gave you—everything.”
I felt tears spill down my cheeks. “So did I,” I whispered.
“And then you chose Kevin.”
“What?” I backed up that time. “I did—what?”
“After every low-life thing he did to you, you still—”
“No,” I said, holding up a hand. “What the hell are you—”
My words, my thoughts, my breath—were interrupted by the ringing, the pull, the darkness tugging at me. “Oh, shit, not now,” I said, groping for his arm.
“Of course it’s now,” I heard him say, like it was from far away. I could sense the sarcasm even as I was leaving.
“Don’t leave,” I said weakly as my chest constricted. “Please don’t—”
But it was too late. I was gone.
• • •
I was standing there in the middle of the room, watching me stand there in the middle of the room. My face was so happy—the one on other-me. She glowed. She was in love. I wanted to yell at her to let it go. That it was all a pipe dream. That’s what he’d called it. A pipe dream.
I knew what day it was. I knew from her funky natural-dried, river-water hair and the crumpled up party dress in the corner. From the sun in the window and the lighting, it was early morning. Ben had just left. Forever. Or it may as well have been.
She went to the still-open window, I knew to relive it for a moment. I remembered sitting there and closing my eyes and remembering every single decadent detail. I couldn’t wait to do it again. To look in those eyes and feel it all again. I remembered feeling on top of the world, like I couldn’t believe how lucky we were to finally admit what had lurked under the surface all those years. To finally put it out there. He’d promised he’d be back later in the day. And I knew she’d sit there, happy in her moment, assuming that was true, until she found out it wasn’t.
There was a soft knock on the door.
“Emily?”
She turned around, blinking to pull out of her basking reverie. “Yeah, Mom?”
The door opened, and a not-quite-gray-yet version of my mother walked in. Her hair was still strawberry blonde, but fading to something a little less vibrant. The slim and trim figure of her youth was starting to go a little soft.
I looked down at myself, realizing she was my age. I hadn’t gone there just yet, thank goodness. At least not noticeably. I wouldn’t be sporting a bikini ever again, but in clothes I still did okay.
“Hey,” she said, perching on the bed. “You just gonna live out of boxes, huh?”
She pointed to the boxes stacked precariously against the closet, two on the floor left gaping open. I remembered that feeling, of not wanting to make it permanent. Losing my apartment to Kevin and dropping out of community college to work full time had been bad enough.
“Quite possibly. It’s temporary. But I’m grateful,” she added quickly.
Mom nodded with a chuckle. “How was the big birthday night?”
A slow smile spread on other-me’s face, but she subdued it before it could get too crazy. “Maybe the best birthday ever.”
“Really?” Mom said. “Better than the Silly String birthday.”
“I’d have to say it bumped it down a notch.”
“I’m glad,” Mom said, getting up to pat her arm. She touched her matted hair and then pointed to the dress in the corner. “Do I want to know?”
Other-me laughed. “Probably not.”
I heard the door knocker downstairs, and Mom headed for the bedroom door. “There’s sausage and pancakes if you’re hungry.”
“Okay, I’ll be down.”
Other-me grabbed the damp dress off the floor and headed downstairs. I was alone in the room, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before the person at the door would be up there filling up space with hot air. I closed my eyes and waited, praying that this flashback wasn’t going to include the next day and a half of misery.
I didn’t have to wait long, but not in the way I expected. A sound at the window caught my attention, and when I opened my eyes I drew a quick breath.
Ben was there.
“Em?” he called softly. A mischievous smile played at his lips as he poked his head in. “You in here?”
“Oh my God,” I said. “What the hell—”
He looped a leg through the window, laughing. “This is crazy,” he said to himself. “I need to start using the door.”
He was halfway in when voices drifted up the stairs, getting progressively louder. He stopped as we both realized they weren’t nice voices.
“Oh, no,” I said, tears filling my eyes as little puzzle pieces started to fall into place. “No, no, no, Ben, you didn’t—”
The sound of other-me’s angry words stopped for a moment, and then continued toward us, and Ben ducked back out of the window just as she barged in. Followed by Kevin.
“Emily, come on,” he was saying. “You always forgive me.”
Kevin looked so young, so baby-faced. I would have been more in awe of that, more shocked by seeing how much he’d aged, if I weren’t horribly drawn to that window. From my angle, I could just see his face, but she couldn’t. I wanted to yell and jump up and down and tell her he was out there.
“Exactly,” she said, whirling on him. “Key word there is always. As in over and over and fucking over. I’m done.”
“Don’t say that, baby.”
She held up a hand and looked away. “Don’t call me baby.”
“Em, please,” he said, leaning into her line of vision. “Just—just listen, okay?”
She glared at him. “You have thirty seconds.”
He sat on the bed, looking miserable. “I don’t know why I do the things I do,” he said, sounding so much like the Kevin that had come to my house the other night. “I don’t want to. I love you, Em, and I keep messing it up.” He looked up at her with tear-filled eyes, looking remorseful and beautiful. “It’s always been you and me, Emily. I’m nothing without you. Please.” He stood up and reached for her but she pushed his hands away.
“Don’t,” she said.
But he was persistent, and he took her hands. “Please,” he repeated. “I’m begging you. I swear to you that I’ll change. I will love you forever.” Sadly, I knew he meant every word. But he’d never, ever, be able to live up to his intentions.
“Kevin—”
“Baby, please,” he whispered, taking her face in his hands and leaning his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” I choked out, watching Ben’s face in the window. I head-jerked from the couple in front of me to where he sat just out of their sight. As Kevin kissed her, the tears fell down my cheeks, hot and scalding. “No, Emily!” I yelled. “Pull back! Ben’s right there!”
Ben’s face went cold. I recognized it. It was the one he had every time we got near this subject. The same glazed-over shell of pain that he’d get every time his father beat the shit out of him.
That damn kiss went on too long. I yelled at them to hurry and get back to the fighting, but I knew better. I knew I wasn’t ch
anging history. And as I pleaded with other-me to no avail, I watched Ben leave.
You weren’t alone. You chose Kevin.
“No!” I wailed, falling to my knees. It was my fault, all along. He didn’t stay long enough to see—
“Stop that!” she said—finally, but too late. She pushed him back and wiped her face. “You don’t get to do that anymore.”
Kevin was crying. “Please don’t say that, Em. I know you still love me.”
“I did,” she said. “But you killed that. A little bit each time, till now there’s nothing left.” She hugged her arms around herself and walked to the window—to the window! Fifteen seconds too late, she walked to the fucking window. “Please leave, Kevin. We’re done.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“You never do,” she said, her voice a monotone. “Now, I don’t care.”
“Emily—”
“Bye.”
After several moments of head-hanging and tear-wiping, he trudged out. Other-me sat on the window seat with a huge sigh, her face in her hands. When she lifted it, she let the smile return and gazed out the window, remembering again.
“He’s—not coming back, you stupid girl,” I spat. “You let that idiot in for too damn long, and Ben—” My stomach burned as I said his name. I couldn’t believe it had all come down to that one moronic moment. Twenty years of separation because he reacted too fast and I didn’t react fast enough. “Oh my God.”
He mercifully answered, because the blackness and the ringing and the noise and the tightness descended on me all at once, sucking me back with an attitude.
• • •
I was alone.
I blinked around at the room that had been my haven as a child, had been my gateway to freedom, and now was the portal to a memory I could never fix. Tears streamed down my face, sobs stuck in my throat as I struggled for normal breathing. I sank to the floor as my knees gave way.
“Okay, that’s it,” I said, hiccupping. “I’ve had enough.” I grabbed the comforter off the bed nearby and yanked, sending pillows flailing in all directions. I pulled it to me and leaned my head on the floor, pulling the soft cloth around me. “I can’t do this anymore, God. Please be done.”
I thought of my life and what I’d done with it after Ben left. Marrying Kevin, having Cassidy, working as a receptionist till I could afford night classes for real estate. Driving to dance recitals and softball games and divorcing Kevin. Nothing special. Certainly no African adventures or Egyptian archaeological digs. But a life that gave me Cassidy.
If Ben would have stayed, the only thing that would have changed was the man. My heart hurt at the thought of that. I could have lived my life with that man. Been a family that I didn’t have to lie about. How different would we have been? How different would Cassidy have been? How stupid were we?
I got to my feet and wiped my face, then snuck down the hall to the bathroom, not sure where Ben was. I did quick repair and then went looking. He wasn’t in the entryway, and his paint supplies were propped on a workhorse over some plastic sheeting. I peeked out the door, careful not to disturb the knocker in case it alerted Mom.
His truck was gone. That was okay, I knew where he lived.
CHAPTER
15
BEN’S HOUSE BEING ONLY A FEW BLOCKS AWAY DIDN’T LEAVE ME much practice time. There is an argument to be made that I didn’t have to leave right away, either, but once I knew he was gone I couldn’t get in my car fast enough.
As I pulled into his driveway, I winced at the crunching gravel under the tires, knowing I’d just knocked down my thinking time by half. I had no idea what to say. I didn’t choose Kevin, you stupid moron, probably wasn’t the best way to start.
I walked slowly, knowing he already knew I was there. I wasn’t even sure why, other than the need to set the record straight. He needed to know. Or maybe I just needed to say it. Still, he didn’t swing the door open ahead of time, he didn’t stand there waiting for me. Maybe he was going to make me sweat it. Or maybe he didn’t care anymore.
I shouldn’t have cared, either. The one thing I was doing with absolute certainty—hunting him down to rehash history—was the one thing I knew better than to do. And yet, there I was on his doorstep. Not knocking, just standing. Wishing for a bench or somewhere to sit and sort out my words. I swiped fingers under my eyes and glanced back toward my car, giving myself one last chance to bail, but then the door finally opened.
I swung around, greeted by a very closed-off face and crossed arms.
“Hey.”
“What do you want, Em?” he said, his voice low and weary. “We’ve already done this.”
I shook my head. “Not this, we haven’t.”
He sighed like I’d just signed him up for the draft and rubbed his eyes. “What now? Where did you go?”
“The morning after.”
“Fantastic.”
“Ben,” I said, stepping forward. “You were there.”
“I’m aware of that.”
I held my hands up. “Well, I wasn’t. But this time I saw you.”
He turned around to walk back in. “What difference does it make?” He motioned with his hand. “Come in if you need to ramble, otherwise, I’m watching a movie.”
“A—movie?” I asked, taking tentative steps forward to follow him.
“I decided I’m taking the day off,” he said, landing on his couch. The television screen was paused in an unfortunate facial pose for some man about to lose an eye.
I allowed myself a slow, steadying breath in and out while he fiddled with the remote. I looked from the screen to the picture on the mantel. The charcoal one I knew instinctively he’d done himself, of the river and the dock. A memory he pulled right out of his head and put on paper forever. He hit play and let the guy have his eye gouged out before turning back to where I stood standing behind the couch. Resignedly, he paused it again.
“What?”
I studied his face, the way his jaw worked when he was irritated. Something I managed to see a lot of.
“You left too early.”
His eyebrows knitted over his nose. “I told you, I decided to take the day off. I told your mom.”
I shook my head before he ever finished. “Not today. That day.”
If a look could be a groan, he had it. “Emily, I already told you I wasn’t going there with you.”
I walked around to stand in front of where he was sprawled across his couch, legs and arms spread over pillows. I knelt so that we were more eye level.
“You left too damn early,” I repeated.
“I saw enough.”
“You bailed without having any faith in me.”
His eyes flashed. “Okay, damn it, you insist on the play-by-play?” He swung his legs down so that I had to scoot back. “I came back to surprise you. To be spontaneous. To tell you I suddenly couldn’t stand to be away from you.”
I breathed faster, trying to keep anything from showing.
“But you weren’t alone,” he said.
“No, I wasn’t,” I agreed. “I was fighting with Kevin.”
“Not for long,” he said, his voice monotone. “I may not remember a conversation from last month but I remember that day vividly.”
“And if you’d stayed fifteen seconds longer,” I said, hearing the shake come into my voice, “we would have been talking about it together over the last two decades.”
There was a pause, and his cocky anger fizzled slightly in his eyes as he tried to make sense of what I said. “What are you talking about?”
“I told him no, Ben.”
“And accidentally married him anyway?” he said, the sarcasm coming back.
I closed my eyes and listened to the air coming in and out. “No,” I whispered. “That
was two months later.” When I opened my eyes, hot tears spilled over. “I never knew you were there, Ben. I never knew you left. But I saw it today. You left the window right before I told him we were over and to leave, that I didn’t love him anymore.” I blinked more tears as they came. “And then I sat on that damn window seat all day, waiting for you, because you said you were coming. I slept on the roof that night. Waited again the next day, till I finally went to Bobby’s and found out you were gone.”
I saw the different stages roll past in his face. Denial, question, realization.
“I didn’t choose him, Ben. I chose you,” I whispered, not able to see him clearly anymore. “I—thought you—”
“You thought I changed my mind,” he said, like he was thinking out loud. He sat back in the cushions and put his palms against his forehead. “Jesus.”
I rose slowly to my feet and wiped at my face, thinking I had to look like an alien after all the crying. “I just felt you should know.”
His gaze followed me up. “So you ended up with him, why, then?”
I licked my lips and hoped he’d assume the Kevin angle. “I ended up pregnant,” I said quickly, averting my eyes. “He insisted on making it legal and I was too scared and clueless to do otherwise.”
“Well, then it turned out as it should have,” he said, bringing my attention back to him.
“What?”
“You had a kid together, Em,” he said, still sunk back against the dark chocolate leather. “What we had wasn’t important.” He flipped a hand sideways. “We both moved on.”
Acid pushed an ugly laugh up my throat. “Wasn’t important? We moved on?” I gestured behind me. “Is that why you drew a picture of our dock to keep in your house? You could add one of the roof and have our whole history.”
He moved his line of vision past me to the picture, and his flippant air went somewhere else.
I walked away, not feeling my steps, not feeling my feet, not feeling the air around me. I walked out the door and left it open, not stopping until I was inside my car. I never looked behind me once I got the car moving down the street. I never checked to see if he watched me leave.
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