Coming Undone

by Stallings, Staci

  Would he have seen it if he had been paying attention? He didn’t know. One side was adamant that he would have, the other wasn’t so sure. And they battled back and forth until he just wanted to scream, “Shut up already!”

  Then there was the matter of his father going to talk with Father Patrick. Did that mean his dad knew something was wrong? Would he have told Ben if he’d have asked? How bad was it? Was he misplacing things, forgetting things? What? And if so, how long had that been going on?

  The worst of all was that there would never be any answers to those questions. He would live the rest of his life and never know. Slowly he let out a ragged, hurt-filled breath. The beginnings of a headache gnawed on his skull. It was the missed sleep and the not eating. He sure could go for some of that cold cafeteria chicken right now. A tranquil, tired smile came at that thought, but it was quickly drown in the melancholy.

  Sitting back, he considered going out to see if he could find her, but he discarded that idea. She didn’t need to be babysitting him. She had other patients, other responsibilities. Besides, she would be gone in fifteen minutes anyway. He looked at his watch. Thirteen minutes.

  He dropped his wrist back to his chest because it weighed a ton, and he put his head back on the couch. He was going crazy. That’s all there was to it. He was just going to go stark raving mad, and then none of this would matter. He wouldn’t even be sane enough to care. The middle of his mind contemplated how he might make that come faster.

  “Don’t think,” he told himself. “Just stop thinking.”

  But it was all he had left to do.

  Chapter 12

  “You leaving early?” Misty asked, noting the coat and briefcase.

  “Yeah. I’m just going to look in on Ben, and then I think I’m going to go home to a nice hot cup of tea and a long relaxing bath.”

  Misty shook her head. “Trade ya. You can go home for me and make mac and cheese for two whiny kids and a husband who says, ‘We’re having this again?’”

  Kathryn laughed. “Thanks for reminding me why it’s great to be single.”

  “That’s what I’m here for.” Misty took a handful of charts. “If I don’t see ya leave, have a good night.”

  “You too. Don’t have too much fun.”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  The ceiling was the kind with the little silver metal strips that held up white tile things in the middle. Ben hadn’t noticed that before, but as he sprawled there, his head resting on the back of the couch, the rest of him stretched out like a waterfall over the couch, he counted the tiles. There were five vertical and five horizontal.

  “Five times five. That means there are 25 tiles on this ceiling, plus those two over by the door.” He didn’t even try to stop the counting. It was much more merciful than the thoughts. “Let’s just see if that’s right. One, two, three, four…”

  The snap of the door didn’t even really jolt him. Propriety said he should sit up, but he really couldn’t even find the energy to care.

  “Eight, nine, ten, eleven.”

  And then, somehow Kathryn was sitting in the chair looking at him. “Whatcha doing?” Her gaze went up to where his was fixed.

  He never moved. “Counting ceiling tiles. When I get finished with that, I plan to start counting the little black dots on each one. I have a theory.”

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  “I’m betting that each tile has the same number of little tiny black dots on it. I’m betting they make them all at some plant in Sheboygan, and they stamp all those dots in there with some big machine called the Little-Black-Dot-Maker.”

  Slowly Kathryn put her things down on the floor next to her, slid down in the chair, and angled her gaze up to the ceiling with his. “You think? It bet it’s called a Dot-o-meter.”

  Intrigued, he nodded. “A Dot-o-meter. I like that. What else you got?”

  She didn’t remove her gaze from the ceiling. “I wonder how they get it to stay up there. I mean it’s not glued to the ceiling, right? If it was, you wouldn’t need the little steel strip-thing-a-ma-doogiys.”

  “Thing-a-ma-doogiys?”

  “Yeah. Thing-a-ma-doogiys. Why? What would you call them?”

  “Don’t know I was too busy counting little black dots to think about what I would call those little steel strip-thing-a-ma-doogiys.” Ben was amazed at how peaceful he suddenly felt. Just drifting on a simpled out cloud. He liked this even though he knew it couldn’t last.

  “Have you eaten?” she asked after minutes had slid into timelessness.

  “I had a donut at ten, does that count?”

  Nothing about her was quick as she sat up, leaned her elbows on her knees, and looked at him. “Well, I had half a squishy sandwich at noon, and I’m starving.”

  Something of his old bravado with women overtook him, and he looked over at her and smiled mischievously. “And you expect me to do something about that?”

  “Well.” Her gaze slipped back up to the ceiling. “I mean I know how busy you are solving the mysteries of the ceiling tile and everything, but if you could tear yourself from utter inanity for a few minutes…”

  As if he was frustrated and annoyed though he was neither, Ben pulled himself forward on the couch. “Well, I guess, since you put it that way.”

  They got their table next to the wall again only this time Ben took her tray to return it to the tray holder. Kathryn had left her belongings back in the room, so she was glad she would have an excuse to go back after they were done. Counting dots on the ceiling. She shook her head and laughed at the absurdity of it. Not that it was bad, just a little weird in a surreal kind of way.

  “I guess this means you don’t have a hot date tonight,” Ben said as he slid into the chair opposite her.

  Emptying a packet of Sweet’n’Low into her tea, she shrugged coquettishly. “I do tomorrow night, does that count?”

  That stopped him, and he backed up slightly. “Really? So who’s the lucky sucker?”

  Petulant annoyance dropped on her, and she considered not answering. However, propriety got the better of her. “Well, if you must know, his name is Nathan, and he’s Misty’s cousin.”

  “Misty from the front desk Misty?”

  “That’s the one.”

  Ben nodded, and she couldn’t tell if he was interested or merely counting more dots. “And this is a new thing, an old thing, a we’re almost married thing?”

  She about choked on her tea. “Um, no. Definitely not on the almost married thing. Actually I’ve never even met him before.”

  “Ah, a blind date.” Ben rubbed his hands together and dug into his spaghetti. “Those are the worst.”

  “Tell me about it. I wouldn’t even go, you know, if it weren’t for Misty and my mom and sister thinking I’m going to die a spinster if I don’t go out with someone.”

  His eyebrows reached for the ceiling. “Someone?”

  “Anyone. As long as he’s breathing and he has a pulse.”

  “And a pulse? Oh, now that’s going to be tough to find someone with both things.” He opened his bottle of water and took a generous drink.

  This time she laughed. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

  “So you don’t go out much?” he asked as he set the bottle down and started eating. He looked famished.

  “Not a lot.”

  He wrapped spaghetti all the way down the tines of the fork. “So you work, you go to church, you don’t go out. Sounds fascinating.”

  Defensiveness crawled up onto her. “It’s just you know the kind of guys out there these days… They aren’t exactly hero material anymore.”

  “Oh, so you’re like Tina Turner then, looking for a hero.”

  Kathryn felt the heat creep into her cheeks as she reached for her tea. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean, they’ve got this thing about you’d better impress them in five minutes or you’re not worth their time.”

  “And you’re not impressive?” The question sounded almost su
rprised.

  “Hardly. Home, work, and church are not on the top of most guys’ lists of a fun time out.” She took a bite of her small piece of chicken. It was dry and had no flavor at all.

  “Okay, well, minus the blind date guy, you got any others on the list?”

  For someone just counting tiles, he sure was sounding interested.

  “A couple.” She shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “A couple maybes. Hmm…” He took another bite, and they both chewed in silence. “Well, that’s a start.”

  A question snagged in her brain, and for a long minute, she beat it back, and then she decided what was the harm? It was something to talk about. “What about you? I see you’ve got no ring on that finger.”

  “Uh, yep.” He held it up. “And proud of it thank you very much.” His gaze fell, and twirling spaghetti, he looked only at his plate. “No, I’m one of those non-hero types. Trust me on that one.”

  She couldn’t help it. Her gaze jerked up to him so quickly she felt the jolt.

  “Marriage is definitely not for me.” He only glanced up once as he picked up the spaghetti on his fork. Then he smiled at her like the Cheshire Cat. “I’m having way too much fun being single.” Stuffing the forkful into his mouth, he chewed, and something about the way he did so made her want to smack him. “I’ve got a nice apartment, a nice car. I can go out when I want, come in when I want. I don’t have to answer to anybody. Why would I want a wife?”

  Suddenly Kathryn felt more alone than she had in a long time. “I don’t know.” The plate in front of her snagged her gaze. “So someone could hold you on rainy nights when it’s cold or you’ve had a rough day. So you could have someone to talk to who understands and really cares.” Her gaze came up to his but then fell again. “But maybe that’s all just a nice fantasy.” She sighed and cut into the last two bites of her chicken. It was something to do. “I see the other couples, you know, the ones who have been in love and who are screaming at each other and hurting each other now, and it just tears me up that they don’t see how lucky they are.”

  The soft almost pleading of her words touched some long-forgotten space inside Ben. He felt it, and it took him completely by surprise. Quickly he disregarded it, pushing it away from his heart and his consciousness. “Yeah, well, people are people. The best thing to do is to remember that going in so you don’t get your hopes up.” He hadn’t meant it to sound bitter, but it did even to him. He reached over and took a long drink of his water because he wasn’t going to apologize for saying the truth although he felt like he should.

  Her gaze still down, Kathryn nodded. “I guess with your parents and all that it had to have been pretty rough.”

  Shock smashed into him, and his face fell into a scowl.

  “You told me some. Jason filled in a little more.” She looked up at him, and there was only a deep, deep sadness in her eyes. “Some of it anyway. He said he went with your mom, and you decided to stay with your dad.”

  Hard hate for the details of his miserable life being aired for everyone to see slapped into his spirit. “Yeah? Well, Jason should learn to keep his mouth shut.”

  Her gaze fell to her plate, and after a moment, she pitched her fork there making it clang against the plate. Sad and contrite, Kathryn looked up at him. “I’m sorry. That was way out of line. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  Closing his eyes for a moment to squelch the pain, Ben took a breath. “No.” When he looked at her again, he could see how deeply the error had mortified her, and knowing her, that didn’t surprise him at all. “It’s not you. I shouldn’t be so crazy about all of this. I’m sorry.” The lion of anger inside him stood down. “I know you were just doing your job.”

  “Yeah, not very well.”

  Compassion for the difficult lines she walked daily brushed past him. It was time to change the subject although only slightly. “It must be tough listening to sob stories all day.”

  Her smile brought up only one side of her mouth. “I don’t mind. People need to be able to get stuff out. If they don’t, wounds don’t heal, and if they don’t heal now, they might never get the chance.”

  “Still it’s gotta be tough. I don’t know how you do it.” He lifted his eyebrows as he played with the spaghetti left on his plate. “I couldn’t do it. That’s for sure.”

  After a moment, she shrugged with only one shoulder and ran her finger over her glass. “Sometimes I wonder if I can.” She let out a long sigh, and her eyes fell closed. Shadows of deep pain slipped across her face like gray clouds filled with wind and rain.

  At first he thought she would say more. Instead she shook her head and looked out across the cafeteria.

  Worry for what she wasn’t saying crossed over his heart. “But you’re so good at it.” He knew the words wouldn’t help, but he had to say them just the same. She had to know what she meant to them, and if she didn’t, he wanted her to know.

  “I wouldn’t know about that. Half the time I have no clue what I’m doing and the other half I’m just hoping nobody figures out I have no clue.”

  That surprised him. He sat back, letting his fork rest next to his plate as he studied her. “I don’t understand. You always know what to say, what to do.”

  She laughed softly as her gaze shot back across the room. “Hardly. I’ve just gotten real good at walking on faith rather than sight.”

  At one time he wouldn’t even have asked. Now it felt like he had to. “That’s one of those God-things, huh?”

  “Yeah.” She let her eyes go wide as she took in a long breath and then released it in a rush. “I guess it is.”

  Ben watched her for a long moment, seeing things he hadn’t bothered to see before now. “You look tired.”

  Her gaze came to him then as her shoulders slumped. “Do I?”

  “Yeah.” He considered the question as she looked back down, and he wondered if it was his place. Still she had done so much for him, he wanted to pay her back even if it didn’t fix everything. “Want to talk about it?”

  Kathryn’s heart panged forward. She knew what the answer to that question should be. More than that, she’d never really talked about her job with anyone not connected to it in some way. What could she say, and what was off-limits? She considered changing the subject, but nowhere in her brain could she find any other topic. Finally she sighed. “Sometimes I just feel so inadequate.”

  Her mind traced backward through the rain and the day, and there were plenty of examples. “Like today, these two beautiful young ladies buried their great-grandmother. She was the one who had taken them in when tragedy struck, and now she’s gone too. I mean, what do you say to them? What good does, ‘I’m sorry’ do? Did anything I did even make a difference?”

  Overwhelm was coming to the surface, and every onslaught hurt. “And I know that the next couple of weeks will be so hard for them.” The center of her heart ached with the futility of everything. “I always think I’m going to remember and pray for them, but somehow I forget. I forget their names and their faces. I forget how long it’s been since they were here. I’ve finally started just saying general prayers for all of them because I’ve forgotten so many that I thought I never would. And I feel bad about that. I mean I want to love them all, and I do. And I know… I know that God isn’t mad at me for not being able to love them like He does, but I still feel bad about it.”

  When she finally stopped talking, the gaping chasm left in the conversation screamed that she had said too much. What was he supposed to say to that anyway? She wouldn’t know what to say to that, how did she expect him to know? He just sat there, staring at his plate, and even through her own tears, Kathryn berated herself for dumping her life on him. That wasn’t fair. Not now. Not ever.

  “I’m sorry,” she finally said, sensing she’d made him really uncomfortable. “This isn’t your problem. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “No. That’s not it.” For one second, he glanced up, and his eyes were filled with words she
couldn’t decipher, but then his gaze fell back to his plate. “It’s just…” A moment and then another and his gaze came up to hers. As hard as she tried, she still couldn’t read the words written there. “You have to know I never would’ve made it through this without you.”

  She brushed off the compliment. “You would have.”

  But he shook his head. “No. I don’t think so. Everything is so… crazy. Half the time I feel like I’m going to outright lose my mind. The rest of the time I can tell I’m spinning that direction, and I have no idea how to make it stop. The thoughts are just… overwhelming.”

  Kathryn nodded. “Boy do I know how that is. Why do you think I spend so much time in the chapel?” It was supposed to be a joke, but he didn’t laugh.

  When he looked at her, it was with sincere hope. “So does that really work?”

  “Better than anything I’ve ever found. It doesn’t take away all the pain. That’s still there. It’s just that God is the only place I know to go with it. He probably gets tired of hearing from me.” She laughed at that and then fell into seriousness. “No. I know He doesn’t. Thank goodness because I can be really obnoxious sometimes.”

  “Obnoxious? I wouldn’t say that.” He looked at her with eyes that melted her insides. Although she could hardly hold his gaze, she couldn’t break the spell he had her under either. Then he leaned back casually without ever breaking the connection. “I think beautiful would be a better word.”

  Utter disbelief dropped over her. She ducked and pushed a stray piece of hair over her ear. “Oh, yeah. Right. Now I think you’re delirious.”

  But he did not laugh. A long moment and he leaned toward her. Serious was the only emotion on his face. He put his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together in front of him as he continued to survey her. Everything in her suddenly felt shaky and uncertain. Why was he looking at her like that?

  “Honest,” he said softly. “It’s called being honest.”