by Wendy Owens
“I was!” I correct. “Past tense.”
“You even admitted he didn’t do anything for you two to break up.” Aiden looks as though he could rip the concrete slab up as easily as a sheet of paper and toss it across the room.
“You’re scaring me,” I declare.
He releases his grip, stumbling back. Out of everything we have said, this seems to have hurt him the most. His mouth opens, but it takes him several moments to find the words. “Maybe you should go.”
“What?” I give him a fast glare, searching his face for a shred of doubt.
He delivers me one last brief glance, then turns his back, and says, “Kenzie, I want you to leave.”
I pick my heart up off the floor and do as he asks. The path down the stairs feels long and lonely. It feels just like a movie. I think to myself it can’t be real. He’ll chase after you. But he doesn’t. I step outside and think he will shout out the window and ask me to stay. He doesn’t.
I swipe the Uber app on my phone, requesting a car. The entire time I wait for the car, I hold onto the hope he will come to his senses. A part of me holds on, all the way until I’m in the backseat, pulling away. I realize he’s not coming after me. It’s over.
“HE LOOKS GOOD TODAY,” I say, glancing from Ben’s sleeping face over to Karen, who is busy fidgeting with her latest hobby, knitting. The woman has been a serial hobbyist since I met her, trying them all and mastering none. One year, she was a baker, another a card maker, then there was sewing, dancing, and one year she even tried home brewing, though I think that one was an attempt to get closer to Ben.
She looks up from her yarn, studying her son’s face for a moment, and she smiles. She doesn’t respond to my statement. Instead, she says, “We all really appreciate you flying home.”
“Of course,” I answer. “There was no way I couldn’t.”
“Stuff like this has a way of putting things into perspective, doesn’t it?”
I pause, wondering if she is reading more into my presence than there actually is. “I suppose.”
She stands, placing the tangled mess of yarn on the chair. “You want to walk down to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee?”
Considering there’s a machine just down the hall, I know there’s a deeper motivation for her invitation. “Sure,” I answer with a smile.
She glides over to her son’s side, pushing his hair back from his forehead and pressing her lips gently to his flesh. She whispers, despite him being asleep, “I’ll be back soon.”
I follow the woman into the hall and toward the elevator. I press my lips together and silently study her features for some clue of what she’s thinking.
“I’m sorry we interrupted your work trip,” she says at last.
“Please Karen, it’s fine. I wanted to be here.”
“Ben said you seem excited about this new job.”
“He did?” The shocked words tumble out of my mouth.
“Yeah,” she continues. “He said he didn’t have a lot of the details yet, but the two of you were going to talk when you got back.”
Suddenly the picture became a little clearer. Ben had decided not to share the deeper details of our breakup with his mother. He decided not to explain that there was no reconciliation on the horizon. He never did want her to worry.
“What is it you’re doing exactly?” she asks with a half-smile, obviously distracted.
“I’m working as a photography assistant,” I answer, knowing this will only lead to more questions.
Her brow narrows. “Really?” There’s surprise there, but before I can say anything she adds, “Well, good for you. Do you enjoy it?”
“You know Karen, nobody ever seems to ask me that, but yes, I do. I actually really love it.”
“That’s great,” her voice is soft and tender, but her stare is distant. We step off the elevator and move in the direction of the deserted cafeteria.
“Is something bothering you?” I ask at last.
“What?” she gasps. “No, I’m fine,” she quickly says.
We grab the cups, I pay the cashier, and we make our way over to the pots. We pour the hot steaming liquid, add in our cream and sugar, stir and take a seat at one of the many empty tables.
“You know, when Ben’s father called me after the accident all I could think about was Richard.”
“Oh, Karen,” my voice cracks as I place a hand on her arm.
“Before Richard left for Afghanistan it’s like we were two strangers living under the same roof. I was so angry at him for enlisting,” she recalls.
I squeeze her arm a little tighter. “He knew you loved him.”
Her eyes dart up to mine. “I know. I just don’t want you and Ben to be like that.”
I shake my head, confused by her statement.
“Like what?”
“Strangers.”
“Ben and I—” I pause, trying to figure how to explain to her that her son and I are not just in the midst of some sort of spat. We’re finished. She doesn’t let me explain.
“Ben is never going to walk again,” she says sharply.
“Don’t say that,” I plead. “He’s a fighter, he always has been.”
She shakes her head then pulls away and folds her hands into her lap. Her voice doesn’t shake. She isn’t crying. She’s had time to process this. She knows what she’s saying. “The doctors say he’ll never walk again.”
A pang aches deep in my chest. Ben’s dark eyes and his once wide smile, flash through my mind.
“Does he know?” I ask.
“He knows enough,” she answers.
What does that even mean? I want to shout at her. In a softer tone, I ask, “What does he know?”
“He knows his spine is damaged.”
“And?”
“And recovery will be long and hard.” Karen’s body shifts into a defensive posture. “Kenzie, I’m not withholding this information from him because I think it’s fun. We spoke to his physical therapist, and she said that sometimes if patients know the odds they don’t even try to acclimate to their new…”
Her eyes glass over with a sheet of tears and her gaze quickly shifts to the checkered pastel tiled floor. The collected woman shows signs of breaking.
“He can’t lose his fight. He has a long road ahead of him. If we take away the hope of walking again, he may never recover. He needs to learn to live again, as this new form of himself.”
I collapse back in my chair, processing the information. A tear escapes and rolls down my cheek. None of this feels real.
“He needs something to fight for,” she continues.
“Fine, I mean, I’m not going to say anything if that’s what you’re worried about,” I offer.
She closes her eyes briefly, takes a deep breath, and says, “You give him more hope than anything else.”
And there it was. Karen knew exactly what the score was between Ben and me. Ben could try to hide the truth from her all she wanted, but she saw right through his stories.
“Ben and I are split up,” I remind her.
“Oh, I know,” she adds. “I was just saying you two were good together.”
“We used to be,” I say pointedly.
She moves closer to me, our eyes meeting. “I don’t know what I would have done without you after Richie’s death.” Karen was the only one who ever called Ben’s brother Richie. He had been a strong man. Wide necked, like Ben, strong in the shoulders, and though he wasn’t the tallest in our neighborhood, his stature demanded respect.
I shake my head. “There’s no need to—”
“People don’t do what you did when they don’t love someone.”
“Karen, I never said I don’t love Ben.”
“See, I told his father that you might have been walking away for good, but it wasn’t because you didn’t love our boy.” The idea of Ben’s father actually engaging in a conversation about his son’s love life seemed unlikely. I imagined it unfolded more as Karen speaking at her h
usband and him nodding before asking for another beer.
“I love all of you, but Ben and I,” I pause trying to carefully choose my words. “We don’t work together.”
“You could,” she says softly. “You could give him just what he needs to fight for.”
“What are you asking me to do?” I question, even though I already know the answer.
She moves over to my side, places a hand on my shoulder, and whispers, “Just listen to your heart.” And then without another word, she gets up and exits.
In an instant, a righteous anger grows inside my belly. I want to shake my fists in condemnation and outrage. How dare she put this on me? I am not her son’s keeper. We broke up. I will always care for Ben, but …
I close my eyes and listen to all the sounds of the hospital around me. My feet go numb, and my head starts to feel as if it’s swaying in a sea of darkness. The heat that had just flashed across my face dissipates.
Her words echo in my head. Just listen to your heart.
My heart? Standing, I open my eyes and rock back on my heels and then back onto my toes. What does my heart say? I miss Aiden. If Karen wants me to listen to my heart, I think she might be disappointed.
Lying to Ben about my feelings at the moment isn’t going to make this any less hurtful in the long run. I need to see Ben. He needs to know I’ll always be his friend. His friend.
“DID YOU GET IT?” I ask impatiently, not bothering with a hello as soon as my father walks into the room.
“Do you have any idea how many boring stories I had to listen to from your Grandmother to pry this thing out of her hands?” Dad groans as he shoves a hand into his pocket and fishes out the small silver band.
My eyes light up as he reaches out, opening my hand for me. “Hurry, they could be back any second.”
“All right, all right, hold your horses.” He’s shaky as he drops it into my possession. Flipping it around, I gaze at the modest but handsome ring. A large opal dominates in the center. It was always the thing that caught my eye growing up. After Gramps died, the ring was supposed to go to my brother once he found a bride.
“Your Grams is pretty excited about the ring staying in the family like this,” my dad adds. I can feel his eyes locked on me. “Well, about that, and apparently that you’re not marrying a slut.”
I laugh. “I can hear her saying that.”
“I told her she shouldn’t make those sorts of assumptions and that maybe you’re marrying a slut.”
“Dad!” I exclaim, my fist wrapping tightly around the treasured piece of jewelry, clutching it tightly to my chest. “That’s your future daughter-in-law.”
He swipes a hand at me dismissively, moving over to the chair across from the hospital bed and flops down. “Oh, don’t get your panties in a bunch, boy.”
“I love her.”
“I know you think you do—” he starts.
“Not you too?” I grumble. “Mom tried to give me the same speech that Kenzie may not be the one for me.”
“Son, we care about you.” My dad trying to act like he’s interested in my love life makes me uncomfortable.
“So does Kenzie!” I snap.
He huffs, “Damn it, boy. It’s like watching you pee on yourself.”
“What in the hell are you talking about old man?”
“You’re the only one getting that warm feeling,” he adds.
My face burns hot. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
My dad raises his hands defensively. “Look, I know Kenzie’s a sweetheart.”
“I’m a what?” Kenzie’s voice fills the room like a bird singing. I quickly drop my hand to my side, hiding the ring against my leg. My leg. The idea that I can’t get down on one knee to propose properly makes me sad. If anyone can motivate me to walk again, though, it’s Kenzie.
Dad hops to his feet and moves in close to her. “You’re the prettiest girl in all of the Southside.”
“You always were a sweet talker,” Kenzie chimes.
“I think he’s always wanted to secretly steal you away from me,” I joke with a slight grin, my heart now racing.
“You got me!” Dad shouts, clapping his hands together. “But whatever you do, don’t tell your mother.”
I furrow my brow, glancing over Kenzie’s shoulder. “Where is my mom?”
“Oh,” Kenzie’s voice cracks. “I saw her when I came back up. She’s standing at the end of the hallway, looking out the window.”
“That woman and her thousand yard stare,” Dad grumbles. “Well, I better make sure everything’s all right.
Dad could be a bit gristly on the outside, but when it came down to it, he was always there for my mom. He used to say you can’t pick who you love, love picks you, and that’s the only way I ever had a chance with your mom. He quit saying it after Afghanistan. We stopped doing a lot of stuff after my brother didn’t come home.
Dad presses his lips gently against Kenzie’s cheek and leaves the room.
“They’re pretty cute,” she says, smiling and moving over to the chair my dad had just been sitting in.
“You’re pretty cute,” I grin, lifting my eyebrows.
She laughs. I’ve missed that laugh so damn much. “And you’re pretty cheesy,” she says, preparing to sit down.
“Wait!” I exclaim. I don’t know why, but I don’t imagine me proposing to the woman I love being from a hospital bed as she sits across the room.
She spins around wildly. “Huh? What is it?”
“I’m sorry, I just thought you could come over here, and we could talk.”
She sucks in a breath, glancing at the door.
“I won’t bite,” I add. “Unless you ask me to.”
“Wow, you’re laying it on thick tonight, aren’t you?” she says, moving around the bed and standing next to me. I wonder if she can see the panic on my face. Does she have any clue what’s about to happen?
“I wanted to tell you I’m sorry,” I start.
“For getting crushed by a car?” she asks, confused.
I laugh. “Well, I’m pretty sorry that happened too, but no. I’m sorry for not understanding how important marriage was to you.”
She shakes her head. “Let’s not talk about that now.”
“I want to,” I insist.
“That’s all water under the bridge now.”
“Please Kenz, just humor me.”
She shrugs, shifting her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
“This accident has put a lot of things into perspective for me. I realize I’ve been wasting my life.”
“I’m glad something positive has come out of it.”
I push the ring into the crease between my blanket-covered leg and the mattress in hopes if I move my hand she won’t see it, and reach out for her. She slips her small and delicate hand into mine as if it’s second nature.
“God, I wish more than anything I could get up from this bed right now and dance with you.” Her eyes glass over and I think she may cry. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She lifts her free hand up to her mouth, and swallows hard, trying to regain her composure. For a moment, I think she might know what I am about to ask.
She sucks in a ragged breath, and a single tear manages to escape, sadness heavy in her eyes. “Ben, I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.” I squeeze her hand and smile. Her eyes brighten a bit. My voice shakes for a moment. “We started dating in college and every single time I saw you, my stomach did flips. You surprised me all the time back then—”
“Please,” she breathes, her eyes sad again.
“You still surprise me,” I continue. “You inspire me. You got a job that you had no experience with, that took you to another country. There was no fear, no hesitation. I watch you, and all I can think is I want to leap like Kenzie does.”
“It was just a job, I didn’t cure cancer,” she dismisses.
“Y
ou showed me I don’t have to be a mechanic for the rest of my life.”
“What?”
“I’m going to take that apprenticeship my old professor told me about,” I explain.
Her sadness bleeds away, leaving a light shining inside her that I had forgotten existed. “Are you serious?” she asks leaning in.
I nod.
“I thought you didn’t want to take it because of money,” she says.
I shrug. “I guess I realized some things are more important. Plus, you have to start somewhere. I won’t be able to work in the shop while I’m in a chair, I might as well…” My voice trails off when I see the sadness disappear from her face.
A smile climbs across her face, perching itself from ear to ear. “That’s amazing news. I’m so excited for you.”
Now. Ask her now. I release her hand and fumble for the ring tucked under my leg. She’s watching me closely.
“God, I’m so nervous I can barely think straight.” As the words slip out of my mouth, embarrassment flushes across my face.
Confusion stitches across her forehead. “Nervous about what?” she asks, her voice hesitant.
“I wish more than anything that I could get down on one knee right now,” I begin, wrapping my fingers around the ring and securing her fingertips with my other hand. “You deserve that, Kenz.”
Her chin drops, her mouth falling open. She confirms with her look that she, in fact, was not expecting this.
“I don’t want to regret losing you for the rest of my life,” I continue.
“Oh, please don’t say it, Ben,” she pleads with me.
“I have to say it. Afterward, you can tell me you hate me, that you never want to see me again, but I will die if I don’t tell you I love you. I love you to the point it hurts. This ring belongs to Grams.”
“Please.” Her voice cracks.
“I know me proposing from a hospital bed isn’t the most romantic way to do this, but I couldn’t wait. As soon as I woke up and saw you here, I knew. I’ve never known anything in my life as much as I now know that I want you to be my wife. Kenzie Crawford, will you marry me?”