I expect Harrison to chastise Elle for speaking over him, but he doesn’t. He smiles and puts his arm around her.
“Elle’s right. Ben will be treated like family.”
My mom looks at me. I can see the wheels turning in her brain. Every few seconds she sighs, making me wonder if I should ask Elle to leave so my mom and I can discuss the offer on the table.
“Have a good time, Ben.”
“YES!” Elle screams and wraps her arms around me. “We’re going to have the best summer. Thank you, Mrs. Miller.”
“You’re welcome, Elle.”
“Thanks, Mom, and Mr. HPJ.”
“You’re welcome, Ben. I’m glad you’re coming on tour with us.”
“Me, too.”
That summer I expected things to change between Elle and I. We were alone so many times on the bus, but the friendship wall was up, and it was too tall for me to climb. I’m not sure a ladder would’ve helped. After that, I sort of went with the flow and followed her lead, until it ended us up in my bed and our friendship severely damaged. Hindsight is fifty-fifty. I should’ve told her no.
The warm feel of a hand pressed into mine brings my thoughts back to the present. I look down to find Talia, smiling up at me with dreamy eyes. It would be so easy to kiss her right now or even when I stop outside her door later, but emotions mess everything up. Instead of letting go of her hand, I hold on a bit tighter until our round of drinks show up, and I have no choice but to let go.
We each grab a shot glass and hold them high in the air. “To the most amazing set of interns who are going to take New York by storm!” Ashley shouts. Our hands meet in the middle and liquor splashes everywhere, some slipping down my arm. I’m a little annoyed at the mess, but I can’t let it bother me. Not right now, not in front of my peers.
The liquor goes down easy, way too easy for my liking. I order the next round almost immediately. I know my limits, but sometimes it’s nice to forget, and this might be one of those times.
I lose count of how many rounds we end up drinking, although I’m pretty sure I bought two. On our way home, my arm is around Talia and hers is hanging onto my belt loop. We’re closer than we should be right now, but I like it. I like feeling the heat from her body and the reverberations of her laughter.
The six of us decide to stop for pizza. It’s a necessity in the city, and the little mom and pop places that you pass by have the best pizza. Inside, the standing room only parlor is warm. The older lady behind the counter serves each of us a slice. At a dollar, you can’t go wrong, and after all the alcohol we’ve had, we need it.
The girls are laughing. At what, I have no idea. Talia keeps falling into me, and when I’m not eating my pizza, my hands are on her hips, holding her steady. She put away more booze than I thought she could and I’m hoping tomorrow isn’t a bummer of a day for her. Thankfully, we’re ahead on our project so we can take a day off.
Ashley and Roy want to hit another bar, but after another slice of pizza, I’m ready to head home. “I’m going to head home,” I tell Talia. She sets her hand on my chest and looks into my eyes. I can’t read her, not like I can Elle. I close my eyes and will any thought of Elle away. “Are you going to stay?”
She shakes her head slightly. “No, I think I’m going to go home with you.”
We tell the group we’re leaving, and we’ll meet up with them Sunday morning for coffee. Outside, we go our separate ways, with Talia and I heading toward the subway, and again, my arm is around her and she’s leaning into me. Part of me is tempted to see how we fit together, but I’m not in favor of rocking the boat or sleeping with a co-worker.
In a few weeks though, she may not be a co-worker. There’s nothing saying we’ll win the competition, and if we do, if both of us take the job. However, it would be nice to be with someone who cares for me… as long as she’s not drunk.
21
Elle
It’s true, Brad Miller and I haven’t been the best of friends. Sure, we both could say we haven’t been friends at all. Back in high school, the rumor was Brad had a crush on me. For a brief moment, I had given him some thought because he was the leather-wearing motorcycle-riding bad boy that every girl dreams of. My dream lasted a whole two minutes or so. As hot as he was, and let’s be honest, still is, because the Miller men have amazing genes, he wasn’t the one for me. As odd as it sounds, I didn’t like the way he spoke to me or other girls, for that matter, always putting us down and acting like he was better than the rest of us. The bad boy image has always been alive in our home, and I can’t imagine my dad saying anything rude to my mom.
And maybe that’s why Brad hates me and is trying to keep me away from Ben. I don’t know for sure, but it makes sense, at least to me. What I do know is Ben’s hiding something. Granted, we both have secrets. Everyone does. And lately, I’ve probably kept my fair share of things from him. Looking at my current situation, this is the cruelest form of payback. Ben is essentially being me, which is really uncharacteristic of the man I know and grew up with. He’s always been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, and making sure I know exactly what he’s thinking. Of course, over the years, I’ve been able to read him like an open book, but since his birthday… well, everything’s changed since that night.
Which, is why I’m standing in front of a plate glass door with my hand on the brass door handle, willing myself to push down on the lever so I can open it. The word hypnotherapist keeps my feet grounded on the sidewalk and my thumb from pressing down to release the lock keeping the door shut. After hours of research on how to relive memories, I found Dr. Sanders, who seems to have a five-star rating on every review site, with accolades of how she’s helped people recover lost and suppressed memories.
Truth be told, I’m scared. I’m afraid to find out I’ve done something horrible to Ben, even though deep down I know I have. There’s a reason I don’t remember the night of his birthday, and today I’m hoping to find out what that is.
With a deep sigh, I muster up the courage to open the door and step in. The hallway is drab and dark with hardwood floors that slope. My flip-flops smack loudly through the corridor. I expected this building to be bustling with people coming and going. Not quiet and void of life.
At the end of the hall is where I find Dr. Sanders’ office. While my nerves may be getting the better of me, I don’t hesitate to twist the doorknob and enter. The office is warm and inviting with its muted blue walls and plush beige carpet. The receptionist smiles at me. “You must be Elle.” She stands and holds out a clipboard.
“Yes, I am.”
“Please fill this out. Dr. Sanders will be with you momentarily.”
Taking a seat, I look over the attached papers. All the questions are common: name, address, and person to contact in case of an emergency. It’s when I get to the question asking me why I’m here, my hand stalls and my mind starts to race. Do I put the reason? Do I tell the receptionist that I screwed up and I need to find what’s going on?
The door of what I’m assuming is Dr. Sanders’ office opens, saving me from having to fill out the loaded question. I stand and meet her halfway.
“Elle, why don’t you come right in,” Dr. Sanders says, motioning toward her office. Inside, the walls are a darker blue, and I already find myself at ease. Can the color of a room really make someone feel differently? “You can sit on the couch.”
I do as she suggests and immediately sink into the plush cushions. I could easily see myself taking a nap here, and it makes me wonder if Dr. Sanders snuggles up in between clients.
“Before we get into the reason you’re here, let’s talk about you for a minute. Tell me about yourself.”
“I’m nervous.”
“I understand, but there’s nothing to be nervous about. We’re going to talk, and I’m going to try and help you.”
“Okay,” I say with a deep breath. “Well, I’m an identical twin, a senior at UCLA and last winter my sister was almost killed in an auto accide
nt. Since then, I haven’t been the same. When my sister and I were five, a drunk driver crashed into our father’s truck, and he died, and his accident was very similar to Peyton’s – that’s my sister. Our mother sort of remarried a little over a year after my father’s accident. As of late, I haven’t made the best decisions, and I fear I’ve done something to hurt my best friend, which is why I’m here.”
“What do you mean your mom ‘sort of remarried’?”
“My parents aren’t married, at least not on paper.”
“They have a common law marriage.”
I nod.
“And your stepfather, do you like him?”
“I love him. He’s our dad in every sense of the word, and honestly the only father figure we know besides our uncles. My sister and I don’t remember our father, only with pictures and stories we’ve been told. My problems don’t stem from a bad home or anything of that nature. When my sister almost died, I did too. It’s a twin thing,” I say, shrugging. “And while she’s doing really well, I haven’t recovered.”
“Tell me about your best friend.”
I do, telling her everything about Ben from the day we met to our last phone call. I share every detail about our friendship, from our study sessions, family vacations, and how he’s been my rock for as long as I can remember.
“So why are you here?”
I clear my throat and rub my now sweaty palms over my shorts. “Ben’s birthday was a few weeks back, and since that night, things have been strained between us,” I pause and try to gather my thoughts. “I woke up in his bed, naked. We both were. Ben tells me nothing happened, but I don’t believe him.”
Dr. Sanders adjusts in her chair. The yellow notepad she’s been scribbling in, wobbles on her crossed leg. “Do you think Ben raped you?”
My mouth drops open, and I shake my head. “No, not at all. Ben… he wouldn’t do that. He’s my best friend or was until his birthday.”
“I’ve seen many cases where one party considered the other a best friend, only to have the unthinkable happen.”
I shake my head vigorously. “Not Ben. He would never do anything to hurt me.” This, I’m sure of. We may not be on the best terms now, but that’s because I messed up, not him. There’s no way Ben would ever take advantage of me. It’s not in his nature.
“The reason I asked is that often people repress traumatic memories. If you were to have an unwanted sexual encounter with the man you consider your best friend, coupled with the stress of your sister’s accident, your mind could’ve blocked it out. Do you remember if you fell down the day of Ben’s birthday or if you hit your head on anything? What about drugs?”
Again, I shake my head. “I don’t remember hitting my head on anything. As far as drugs…” I shrug. “I’ve taken pills in the past, you know to numb everything, but I don’t remember if I did the night of Ben’s birthday. I was drinking though. I remember a girl flirting with him, and it bothered me. I don’t know why because it never has before. And lately, I’ve been lost. At least, that’s what my family and Ben say. I’ve partied a bit too much, let my grades slip and haven’t been the person people know me to be.”
“And who’s that?”
I sink deeper into the couch, pulling my leg up under my other one and rest my elbow on the armrest. My head falls easily into the palm of my hand. I don’t know if it’s because it’s so warm in here or if it’s because Dr. Sanders has a soothing voice, but I find myself wanting to open up to her. I guess she’s good at her job, otherwise I can’t imagine speaking freely.
“I used to be this sweet and fun-loving girl who cared about her friends, her grades and what people thought of her. My family always came first. My image was important. I wanted to excel at everything I did.”
“And the accident with your sister changed all of this?”
“Yeah, it did. The doctors said she was going to die and there wasn’t anything I could’ve done to help her. I felt this… ache deep inside, and even though she healed, my ache never went away, so I started drinking to numb the feelings.”
“And where was Ben through all of this?”
“By my side. He came out to Chicago, where the accident was, and stayed until the hospital discharged my sister. He even spent the night with her so she wasn’t alone. He helped my family, so they didn’t have to leave Peyton’s side, making sure there was always fresh coffee, food and anything they needed readily available. And he held me when a wave of emotions would take over. He let me cry on his shoulder.” Tears start to fall, and I find myself wondering if they’re for Peyton or Ben because right now, reciting how Ben was with my family during Peyton’s accident has me asking why I’ve never given him a chance. His actions far exceeded what a best friend would do for someone. Peyton’s right, Ben deserves more from me. However, the question is, can I give it to him? More importantly, will he even accept anything from me?
“I want you to lie back and close your eyes for me, Elle. I’m going to put you under and see if your subconscious remembers the night you’re missing. I want you to listen to my voice and try to relax your body. If at any time you’re uncomfortable, I want you to raise your hand, and we’ll stop. Okay?” Her voice has changed, the tempo is slower, and she’s quieter than before.
“Okay,” I say.
I do as Dr. Sanders instructs. Soft music starts to play, and I can sense her walking around the room. Even though my eyes are closed, I feel as if the room has become darker. I’m tempted to peek, but don’t want to open my eyes and find her hovering over me.
“Breathe in and out, Elle. Let everything go. Let your body mold into the couch and set your mind free. Where’s your happy place?”
“The beach.”
“Let’s go there. What do you see?”
“My dad, brother, and Ben.”
“What are they doing?”
“Everyone’s surfing, except for Ben. He’s… looking around.”
“Do you think he’s looking for you?”
“No, he’s mad at me.”
“Why’s Ben mad, Elle?”
“I hurt him.”
“Do you know what you did?”
“Yes.”
“Does Ben want to talk to you?”
“No, he keeps walking away.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I hurt him.”
“What did you do, Elle?”
“I kissed him.”
“Did he push you away?”
“Yes, he did, but I kissed him again and again. We fought. He asked me if I’m sure.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Yes.”
“What happened that night, Elle? Why is Ben upset with you?”
“Because we had…”
My arm goes up. I’m not sure if it’s instinctual or not, but I’m angry. Not only at myself, but also at the fact that I’m awake. “Put me back under.”
Dr. Sanders shakes her head. “I think you have your answer.”
“But what if I don’t?”
“What do you remember, Elle?”
I rub my face, pushing away the uneasiness I feel. “Ben and I…” I have trouble forming the sentence that has damaged our relationship. “We crossed the line.”
“Is his pain from the act?” she asks.
Shaking my head, I wipe away the tears streaming down my face as the memories of that night come flooding back. “I hurt him,” I choke out. “I shunned him when I woke up, and he lied to me.”
“Why do you think he lied?”
“To protect me?” I question, but she doesn’t have the answer, only Ben does, which means I need to find him so we can hash things out once and for all.
Dr. Sanders hands me a few tissues and gives me a moment to collect my thoughts. “Do you feel as if you have your answer?”
I nod.
“How about another appointment? Not for hypnosis, but to talk. I’d like to help you find your path again.”
Again, I nod. “I’d li
ke that. Right now, I feel more lost than ever.” She reaches for my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Why did I block this out?”
Dr. Sanders crosses her legs. “Our psyche is delicate. Without more knowledge of who you are, I’m guessing you didn’t want to ruin your relationship with Ben, and you knew it would. It did. Your mind shut down and did the only thing it knew to do, erased what could potentially change your life.”
“And in the process, Ben distanced himself from me.”
She uncrosses her legs and leans forward. “Without knowing Ben, my guess is he feels something for you, and your rejection of him was the door slamming in his face. The only way to find out is to speak to him.”
I shrug. “That’s just it. I can’t find him.”
* * *
After therapy, I drive to parents. When I pull into their driveway, the garage is open and my dad’s bike is gone. I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s gorgeous out and my parents like to go for rides. Still, I park and head inside, shocked to find my mom sitting on the couch. As soon as we make eye contact, tears begin to stream down my face.
“Elle, what’s wrong?” she asks, getting up and rushing over to me. I’m in her arms, being cradled against her chest, before I can even mutter a single word. “Ssh, it’s okay.”
“But it’s not, Mom.”
My mom continues to hold me, swaying back and forth, while humming the lullaby she used to sing to us when Peyton and I were babies. I wish I knew the song, and maybe someday, I’ll ask her, but right now just hearing it calms me.
“I messed up.”
“It’s only school. We can figure it out.”
“It’s not school.”
She pulls away and looks into my eyes. I don’t even bother wiping away my tears. “Come on, let’s sit. Do you want something to drink?” I shake my head and take a seat on the sofa, which has the most amazing oversized pillows. My mom sits and faces me, reaching for my hand. “What’s going on?”
My Unexpected Love: The Beaumont Series: Next Generation Page 13