It's Been Awhile

by Lexie Davis

  "Ben,” she murmured, resting her head against his biceps. “It wasn't your fault. I just wish you'd told me. I knew stuff happened, but I'd convinced myself as long as you stayed with me, you'd be alright."

  "Yeah? I thought the same thing, too. Look where that got me."

  "What happened that night, Ben?” she asked. “What forced you to leave me?"

  The memories flooded his mind all at once. The darkened trailer. His stepfather's alcoholic stupor. The gun pointed between his eyes. Ben closed his eyes losing himself in his thoughts.

  "I came in late. We went swimming at Pike Lake and had spent the entire night cuddling under the stars. I did my best to sneak in, but Bobby caught me. He sat in the recliner, whiskey bottle in one hand, gun in the other. He asked me where I'd been, what I'd been doing, who I was with. I answered him, but obviously he didn't like my responses.” Ben pulled away from her, needing space. Luckily she gave it to him, watching as he stood suddenly to dress.

  "Ben.” Marah's eyes filled with tears.

  "Don't cry over it, Marah. He told me to get the fuck out of this town and never come back. So I did. End of discussion."

  "Ben,” she said again.

  He ignored her. “Where's my damn tee?"

  He searched the room, more or less giving himself a reason to avoid her eyes. He didn't need her sympathy. He didn't need her to play shrink or journalist and start asking a million questions. Bending down, he found his shirt next to her dresser and grabbed it.

  "I need to get to rehearsals.” He stopped, wondering how he was supposed to tell her goodbye. His eyes met hers, silver strands of tears streaming down her cheeks. Each one ate at him, gnawing into him inch by inch. He'd made her cry.

  She sniffed, finally wiping her eyes before she spoke. “I wanted to hate you, Ben. I wanted to be mad and angry with you, but I couldn't. I loved you too much. And now, even though it still hurts, how could I possibly hate you when you left for the reasons you did?"

  Ben swallowed back his own emotion. “Don't pity me, Marah. I didn't tell you to get the sympathy vote. I don't want you to feel sorry for me."

  "Why not?” she yelled, fresh tears filling her eyes. “I feel shitty for being wrapped up in my own feelings all these years and not once considering you had a plausible explanation. I knew Bobby beat you, but this ... Why didn't you tell me?"

  Now, he should comfort her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, tell her everything was fine and make their world rainbows and butterflies again. But it wasn't and he couldn't.

  "I didn't tell you because it was none of your business.” With that he left the room, struggling to keep his own emotions at bay.

  Chapter Six

  The concert came all too quickly for Ben. Marah's words rang like bells inside his head. Why didn't he tell her that night? He remembered being callous and mean. He'd thought it would make it easier on them to part ways. But he'd missed her. He hadn't stop thinking about her and had never wanted another woman like he wanted her.

  And now, he stood with his guitar on stage daydreaming about the girl who sat in the front row—the only girl in the crowd who wasn't moving to the pulsing rhythm of the music. He was surprised to see her here after she'd proclaimed she couldn't come. Her hair was up, and she'd changed into a simple grey tee and tight denim jeans. She looked pretty sitting there, even with the frown on her face. She'd covered her eyes with dark black sunglasses encrusted with glittering gemstones on the sides.

  The song ended and the crowd went wild with applause. Midas talked a bit about the town's support for the band. Doing his best to shift gears from one song to another, Ben focused on the next song. But the longer Midas talked the more Ben contemplated his feelings for Marah. He pushed his guitar aside and stepped up to his mike, looking directly at her. Midas gave the guys a curious glance before moving out of the way.

  "Marah Spencer.” Every head in the audience turned toward her. “I've said and done a lot of shitty things over the years, but I want you to know something."

  She shied away, making a futile effort to disguise herself from the gawking eyes. Sin began a soft beat with the cymbals while Taye joined in on the beginning chords of ‘Lovin’ you'. Ben pulled his guitar into place, joining in with the guys.

  "Marah, I just want you to know, I do love you."

  Her head whipped up, just as he'd expected, meeting his gaze dead-on.

  "I love you more than life itself. And I'm sorry I never told you. I'm sorry for all the stupid shit I've put you through and I hope you'll forgive me. This next song is dedicated to you."

  He started playing ‘Lovin’ You’ the newest Darkfever hit recorded on their last album. The crowd applauded and cheered before it was time to sing the lyrics, which Midas happily relinquished to Ben. He sang to her, the song of love, of life, of sex and happiness. He loved her and wanted to shout at the top of his lungs and tell the whole world.

  He sang to her, never taking his eyes off her. She finally got over being embarrassed and joined the rest of the audience in singing the lyrics. When the song ended, the crowd applauded. He took his eyes off Marah for one second to set his guitar aside and then she was gone.

  "Taye, where did Marah go?” he asked, over the cheers.

  "I don't know man. She left.” Taye watched him with knowing eyes as Ben stripped his guitar off his shoulders.

  Dammit, he'd fucked up again.

  Ben nodded, running off stage. He'd let Marah go before and would die if he had to do it again. He loved her. He didn't give a damn anymore about anything but her. He wasn't going to lose her this time.

  "Marah!"

  She stood up ahead of him in the parking lot, fiddling with her keys.

  "Marah, wait."

  "I can't. I shouldn't even be here to begin with.” She turned away from him, hands shaky as she tried to insert the key in the door lock.

  "Marah, I love you."

  "Love? You don't even know what love is.” She sniffled, allowing the tears fall to her cheeks. “You just said all that stuff onstage for your image. You said it to get me to stay. Well, I'm not, Ben. I refuse to believe it and pine after you for the rest of my life when you walk away again. I actually have an opportunity I've waited for my whole life and I refuse to let you screw it up."

  She set her keys on top of the car before she dried her tears and finally looked at him. “Do you have any idea how long it took me to get an interview with this place? Five years of hard work and determination, and still it was just by chance one of my professors saw something in me. Something the Institute looked for."

  Ben swallowed back his own emotions. “Marah, we can work it out. You can come with me to L.A. They have plenty of people who need mental help."

  "I'm being serious and you're trying to make a joke.” She grabbed the keys and this time inserted them with deft precision.

  "Marah.” Ben grabbed her arm and she stopped. Where did he begin? How did he make her see she was the only thing that meant anything to him? How did he convince her to be with him?

  "Is that all my career choice was to you? A joke?” Fresh tears fell to her cheeks. “I'm glad to know you believed in me, Ben. It means a lot now."

  "It's not a joke, Marah.” He struggled to find the words. “I believe in you, Marah. I love you, how could I not? Would you just wait a second?"

  "I've waited to hear that my entire life, Ben.” She scooted into the driver's seat. “You're just a little too late."

  * * * *

  Marah waited in the office of Dallas Institute for Mental Health, nervously drumming her fingers on the arm of the chair where she sat. Her conversation with Ben ran through her mind. She wanted to believe they could work things out, but she refused to follow Ben's dream without pursuing her own.

  "Ms. Spencer, Dr. Newport will see you now."

  Gathering her belongings, Marah followed the secretary to Dr. Newport's office. Absently, she noticed how clinical the place seemed. White walls lined the hallway with the staf
f wearing equally white outfits. Stepping inside the chief advisor's office, she noticed his space wasn't much different. The only personal item marking the area was a 3x5 picture of his kids.

  "Hello, Ms. Spencer. Have a seat.” Dr. Newport motioned to the chair before his desk and Marah sat. “You come to us by a recommendation from your professor, is that correct?"

  "Yes, sir. I'm top of my class, and he thought I would be a perfect candidate for your institute.” Her stomach knotted.

  "Well, he and I both agree.” Dr. Newport pulled out a file and skimmed the contents. “My staff reviewed your test scores and convince me you're above average.” He smiled. “A few even say I'd be a fool not to accept you into the program."

  This was her chance to prove she was worthy but her heart wasn't into it. She nodded and casually listened as Dr. Newport carried on about what an excellent student Marah was. She only half-heard his questions, trying to force her personal problems away, but Ben entered her mind time after time. It was all she could do not to breakdown during the interview.

  Dr. Newport stood and extended a hand toward her. “After reviewing your files myself, and conducting this short interview, I'm pleased to say welcome to the Dallas Institute of Mental Health, Ms. Spencer. We're very glad to have you."

  * * * *

  Marah arrived back to her apartment in Houston on Monday and cleared her schedule with her father for some much needed time off. She'd turned in the Darkfever article while moping around the hotel room in Dallas.

  She'd gotten the job. Her dreams and plans for her future had come true. So why wasn't she happy?

  "Marah?” Holly entered her daughter's apartment to find Marah in the kitchen, pouring a glass of lemonade. “I called the paper looking for you, and your father said you took the day off. Is something wrong? Didn't you get the job?"

  "Nothing's wrong. I got the job, Mom. Dr. Newport even said the institute would even pay for my education.” She sipped her drink. “I just needed some time off."

  Holly narrowed her eyes. “Does any of this have to do with Benjamin?"

  Marah drank from her glass, refusing to answer her mother. Holly sighed loudly before thrusting an envelope across the kitchen bar. “He left this for you in my door. I assume you'll want to read it in private."

  Marah glanced at Ben's scribble of her name across the white envelope. “He told me he loved me, Mom."

  Holly's eyes widened. “What did you say?"

  "I told him he was too late this time.” Marah grabbed the envelope from the counter. “And this is probably a note asking me to forgive him yet again for his stupid mistakes, and I really don't need to read that right now."

  Pressing the foot pedal on the trashcan, Marah tossed the envelope. “If you don't mind, I'm going to unpack my luggage."

  Leaving her mother standing in the kitchen with her mouth agape, she strolled out of the kitchen with her glass of lemonade at hand. For once, she was going to do what she wanted to do. And that had nothing to do with her mother, father or even Ben.

  When Marah returned the glass to the kitchen, she discovered Holly had pulled Ben's letter from the trashcan and left it on the counter. Marah left it there for the majority of the day, where it sparked unavoidable interest. Eventually, the note roused her curiosity high enough she couldn't stand it any longer. She gave in and opened the envelope. Inside were a note, a plane ticket and a check. She set the latter two aside and began to read what he'd written.

  Dear Marah,

  Inside this note you'll find two things, a ticket and a check. I want you to know I fully believe in you, and I'm proud of you. I tried to tell you that but you wouldn't listen to me in the parking lot, so I'm saying it now, loud and clear.

  I've talked to David, who informed me of a psychology program in L.A. that is globally known for its work. It may not be Dallas's famous institute, but he assures me that the staff are enjoyable to work with and will help you get ahead in the business. They have flexible schedules and plenty of opportunities for experience you'll need in the future. They're also pretty close to where I live which is why I'm pointing out the ticket first.

  I set up an interview with the chief counsellor. He'd like to talk to you, if you're willing to come to L.A. I'm not only saying this because I want to be with you, but I want you to be happy, Marah. I want you to know that if you choose me, you don't have to give up the life you've dreamt for yourself all these years.

  But most of all, I want you to be happy.

  So that leads into my next topic, the check. Before you flat out deny my money, just hear me out. I've spent many years trying to buy happiness and have been left with nothing but a house full of stuff I barely use. I have millions of dollars sitting in the bank and no place to spend it. If you don't choose me, I want to know that no matter what life throws at you, you'll still get your doctorate and make your dreams come true. So I'm sending you this check for a million dollars. Obviously, that won't be the cost of your education, but I wanted to make sure everything you need is covered.

  It's your money, Marah. It doesn't make me happy anymore. I'm not trying to buy you as you put it earlier. I honestly just want to see you happy, and I know getting your degree will make you happy.

  So with all this said, you have a choice. I'm leaving it up to you this time, sweetheart. If you want to be with me, there's the plane ticket and job offer. And if not, well, my heart will be broken, but somehow, I'll manage. Take the check and achieve your dreams. I want what's best for you. I always have.

  I love you, Marah. You say I don't know how to love, but you showed me. You let me achieve my dreams because you loved me. I want to offer you the same.

  Love,

  Ben

  Marah stared at the note in her hands. Was he serious? She glanced at the ticket and then the check before skimming the letter again. Aside from her options, the only thing she wrapped her mind around was the last paragraph. I love you, Marah. You showed me. I want to offer you the same.

  Marah raised a shaky hand to her mouth. Unlike ten years ago, he'd given her a choice. She contemplated her options, weighing the good with the bad. The clinic he'd mentioned in his letter had been her second choice. She'd leave her life in Houston behind, everything she'd ever known, if she went to L.A. Still, she'd finally be with Ben. She loved him, but they were different people now.

  She chewed on her lip, staring at the million-dollar check. He'd said money didn't make him happy anymore. That seeing her happy would make him happy. Tears filled her eyes. She made her decision. She'd have to live with it.

  Chapter Seven

  Ben had left Texas a week ago, and he still hadn't heard from Marah. He'd made himself promise he'd accept her decision but still drove himself crazy wondering what she'd chosen.

  He couldn't get her off his mind.

  Preoccupied by recurring thoughts of Marah, he sat on the couch watching football, only half interested in the game. The band had completed their tour giving them a three month vacation before they had to report to the studio again to record their next album.

  "Oh, why'd you do that for?” Ben shook his head at the TV when a football play went bad. The game finally went to commercial break at the same time the doorbell rang.

  Padding across the hardwood floors in bare feet and nylon shorts, he opened the door.

  "I came to give this back to you."

  "Marah."

  She stepped inside the foyer uninvited and thrust the check at his chest. “I don't want your money."

  "I don't want it, either.” He gripped her wrist loosely in his hand simply holding it against his chest. Her eyes sparkled, and his heart skipped a beat. He hadn't realised seeing her again would make him so happy.

  "Well, you're going to take it.” She smiled. “I got accepted into the program at Dallas. They offered to pay for my doctorate so I won't need your money."

  Ben's heart sank to the pit of his stomach. “That's great. I'm proud of you sweetheart."

  She mad
e a face."What? No arguing? No fighting for the woman you say you love?"

  He narrowed his eyes. “I told you I'd step back and let you make the decision."

  "Dammit, you could at least put up a fight. Maybe sweat a little.” She rolled her eyes then pushed him back against the door. “I chose you, Ben. As if I even had to contemplate your offer. I chose you."

  "If you only knew what I've been through this past week.” He pulled her to him, pressing his lips against hers. His hands slid beneath her shirt to feel her soft, warm skin. “I can't believe you're here."

  "Believe it. You're stuck with me from now on.” Her hands slipped underneath the waistband of his shorts. “And I think we're way overdressed for this reunion."

  She tugged until the fabric puddled at his feet. Grinning at him, she sank to her knees. Mesmerised, he watched as she rubbed the dot of pre-cum over his cock head with the pad of her thumb. The woman wanted to torture him and he knew it.

  Slowly, her wet thumb slid down to the base of his erection, passing over every sensitive area she could find. She took her precious time teasing him until sweat dotted his upper lip and trickled down his spine. He cupped the back of her head pulling her toward him until the tip of his cock teased her lips.

  "You're driving me insane, woman."

  She laughed softly. “Just wanted to make you sweat a little."

  Marah gripped him firmly then lowered her lips down his shaft. Ben groaned as her lips tightened around him and his cock sank deeper into her mouth. He groaned louder when his tip touched the back of her throat and she began to suck.

  Marah set a steady pace that drove him crazy with lust. Her pretty pink lips slid back then forth on his spit-slippery dick, drawing his balls up tight as he bordered on the need to come.

  "Marah,” he ground out, pushing her shoulders back. “Stop."

  She met his eyes and licked her lips. “Only if you come inside me."