by Lisa Sorbe
The minute they’re out the door, Mimi pounces.
“Holy shit! Like what the hell? Oh-my-God-Lenny!”
I adore Mimi. I do. In the short time we’ve known each other, I’ve become closer to her than I ever was with Kendra. And I lived with Kendra. In a small apartment. With very, very thin walls.
But I swear…sometimes, the girl gets so damn excitable she’s like a terrier who’s caught wind of something and just won’t. calm. down.
I hold up a hand, trying to shush her as politely as I can. And then I begin answering her unasked questions, one by one.
“He just showed up this morning. Out of the blue.” Mimi opens her mouth, so I rush on. “He wants to try and work things out.”
She props a hip against the sink. “Do you?”
“Do I want to work things out?”
Mimi nods.
“I—” I draw out the word, stalling, wondering, and coming up completely blank. “I don’t know.”
“How does Ben feel about this?”
I laugh, hoping it covers my disappointment, the sting that’s still smarting from his rejection. “What do you mean? Why would he care?”
Mimi taps a finger to her lips and pretends to think. “Hmm. I don’t know. Maybe because last night you guys were hanging onto each other like you were the last two life preservers on a sinking ship.”
“That was just me, Mimi. Ben wasn’t doing anything of the sort. I was drunk and sad and it was Valentine’s Day and he felt sorry for me because I was standing all alone and…”
But Mimi shakes her head so vigorously that a few curls spring loose from her ponytail, dancing around her face. “Nuh-uh. No way. Ben was totally digging your vibe last night. I saw it. Everyone saw it. It was, like, the steamiest thing I’ve ever seen—you know, in real life—and you two didn’t even lock lips or anything.”
Embarrassed, I groan and turn to the sink, washing my hands for the sole purpose of having something to do besides listening to the mortifying play-by-play Mimi insists on giving me regarding last night’s events. But out of sight doesn’t mean out of earshot, and I can’t ignore the questions, the observations continuing to spill from her lips.
“What did he say? Did you guys talk about it after, when you left? Like on the way home or anything? Because from the way it looked, I totally expected you to call me and tell me that you two boned last night.”
I sputter a laugh. “Bone? God, I haven’t heard that phrase since, like, high school. And no. What? I mean, of course not. That’s crazy…” Just the idea of…boning…and…Ben…it’s just…it’s just entirely asinine. But when I reach to turn off the faucet, my eyes catch my reflection in the mirror. My entire face is red, as if just the thought of boning Ben—again, that word—has me blushing from head to toe, my body overheating with hot and heavy want.
“No,” I say, swiping my hands with a paper towel and tossing it into the trash can. “We didn’t talk about anything last night. In fact, he’s barely said two words to me all day.” When Mimi opens her mouth, I hurry on, knowing full well what she’s about to ask. “And if he did have something to say, he had plenty of chances to do it before Daniel showed up at the front door this morning. No. If Ben wanted me, he…” I drop my voice to a mumble. “…he could have had me.”
Mimi shrugs, looking rather crestfallen. “Okay, then. Maybe I just misread the signs.”
My shoulders slump along with hers.
You and me both, sister.
“I was just hoping you wouldn’t mention it tonight? I, for one, would be perfectly fine if we never spoke about it again. But with Daniel here, it’s probably best if we don’t bring it up at all. Again, not that there’s anything to bring up. But things are already shaky between us and I just don’t want to exacerbate the situation further.”
“No problem. I understand.” And then Mimi steps right into my personal space…and gives me a hug.
It feels weird. So weird to be hugged by a friend that I freeze up, instinct urging me to pull away. I have the tendency to want to keep my interactions with people separated by a screen, where close and personal is still armored by distance.
But there’s no distance here, in Mimi’s arms. No comfortable separation cushioned by the world wide web.
I’m not an introvert, per se, but I have struggled with being around people. Or, more specifically, becoming close with people. I have enough acquaintances to fill nearly a dozen address books. Although, if I’m being honest, every single one of those recorded contacts would be useless in a crisis, considering I’m not familiar with any one of them enough to actually call on them for help. Maybe that’s why, subconsciously, I picked communications as a major. Maybe that’s why, for the longest time, I enjoyed filming content for Youtube. It was my way of forming connections without the burden of consequence.
In fact, Daniel is the first person I’ve let in, truly let in, since…Lenora.
I hug Mimi back, all the while wondering if that can possibly be right. Surely there has to have been someone in all the years between…
But as I flip back through the half-hearted relationships of my past, I realize that…nope. There’s been no one.
“Well,” I say, working my mouth into a smile I don’t feel, “we should get back out there, huh? You’ve got tables and I’ve got,” I swallow, “Daniel.”
Mimi’s returning smile is encouraging, if not subdued. When she turns to leave, I make the excuse that I really do need to use the restroom and wait until the door is shut behind her before splashing my hands with cold water and pressing my palms against my cheeks.
I think…
I think…
I think I’m falling out of lust and into love.
Shit.
It’s been three days with Daniel. Which means three days without Ben.
What are those old sayings? How do they go?
Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.
Anyway, cheesiness aside, I…miss him.
He refused to take me into work on Monday morning, assuring me that Rita could handle the front desk alone for the remainder of the week. And considering she’s officially back from her impromptu vacation, recharged and ready to hit the ground running, I’m back to being a part time employee—which means less time at the clinic overall. Less time with the staff and the patients and the clients that I’ve come to know so well. And above all…less time with Ben.
As for breakfasts? Welp, apparently those are a thing of the past.
By the time I made it downstairs on Monday, I was running late, my fingers frantically working my hair into a braid as I rushed into the kitchen, apologizing to Ben for holding him up before I even crossed the threshold. The words were barely out of my mouth before I noticed something was wrong.
The air was sorely lacking the smell of succulent sweets, of greasy bacon, of spicy sausage. The rich aroma of coffee flavored with vanilla and cinnamon was missing. In place of those delicious smells was…nothing.
It was dead air.
Just like my relationship with Ben.
And I’m not even talking about the romantic one I so foolishly craved. The one that, when I was in his arms on Valentine’s Day, I suddenly realized I wanted more than anything in this world.
No, the relationship I’m referring to is our friendship. Our camaraderie. The way that, for just a few weeks, we seemed to be slipping into an easy rhythm, our days and nights merging together so completely that it felt like the only time we were apart was when we were in bed.
And even then.
And even then.
The last few nights, thoughts of Ben have been slipping into my dreams as easily as Daniels slips his arms around me before falling asleep. How horrible is it, to dream of one man while lying next to another? Night after night after night? And upon waking, feeling a sense of despondency when realizing that the person in my dreams is not the one by my side?
And I
can’t keep doing this.
I keep trying with Daniel, giving us, what we had, the benefit of the doubt. I lean into his embrace, into his kiss, concentrating so hard on trying to remember what it was that I used to feel. What it was that knocked down my defenses and pushed me over the edge, opening myself to him in ways I’d never opened myself to anyone before. But it’s not there. It’s gone. Like a hollow void has taken its place, filled me up entirely and numbed my senses.
But when I see Ben?
My body comes alive.
Each nerve ending is a spark that his gaze ignites, each innocent brush of his body against mine awakens dormant DNA, the reconfigured strands initiating a launch sequence designed to transport me to another realm of consciousness, another universe.
Even on my best days with Daniel, I’ve never felt like this.
And it’s breaking my heart.
So on Thursday morning, when the distance between us has become too much to bear, I slip quietly from my bed before the sun is up, making sure not to wake Daniel in the process. I assure myself that I’m not doing anything shady, simply rising early to make breakfast for everyone in the house, not just Ben. After throwing on my robe and quickly freshening up, I head downstairs to start Lenora’s famous pancakes, the ones I know Ben loves so much.
But he’s already in the kitchen when I arrive, shaking kibble into a bowl for Asha, who’s waiting not-so-patiently at his feet. “Mornin’,” he says, not bothering to look up.
I draw my robe tighter around me, fighting off the chill that never seems to subside up here. “Good morning to you, too.” I ruffle Asha’s ears as I pad by, heading for the cupboards. “I woke up craving pancakes. You interested?”
Ben is quiet as he dribbles a handful of blueberries over Asha’s bowl. Finally, he nods. “Sure.” Then he looks up, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Why the hell not?”
• • •
The clank-clatter of silverware hitting ceramic make up the morning’s playlist, with Ben and Daniel doing more eating than talking. I try to fill the quiet, the void with mindless chitchat and random observations. When none of that pulls forth anything more than a few nods and grunts, I give up, shoving a forkful of pancake three slices thick into my mouth just to shut myself up.
Even I’m tired of hearing myself talk.
Needless to say, the two men haven’t bonded. Since walking through the front door, Daniel’s carried with him an air of superiority, donned a smug smock of haughty aloofness whenever he’s in Ben’s presence. (Which, thankfully, isn’t much.)
But Ben, on the other hand, isn’t behaving any better. His disdain for Daniel is glaringly obvious, displayed in the hours he spends away from the house, making him far more absent around here than he usually is. Of course, I’m the only one who notices this; for the past few weeks, my schedule has pretty much reflected his. And in his absence lies his bite.
The thing of it is, is this: I’m not sure if it’s Daniel that’s keeping him away…or me.
The thick forkful of pancake that I shoved into my mouth gets stuck halfway down my throat and, practically choking, I fumble for my water glass only to find it empty. Sputtering, coughing, and making Lord knows how many grotesque faces, I squinch my eyes shut and try swallowing past the dough while, at the same time, fighting for air.
Both men fly into action, and if I wasn’t currently blinded by tears and half loony from lack of oxygen, I’d probably laugh. Daniel half rises from his seat and tries to shove his glass of milk into my hand while Ben rounds the table, where he proceeds to place one arm around my chest and, pushing me slightly forward, smacks his palm between my shoulder blades. On the second blow, the stupid wad of food comes up. I slap one hand over my mouth while scrambling for a napkin with the other so I can spit it out.
Both men are watching me closely, too closely, and I quickly down Daniel’s glass of milk, the cold liquid a soothing balm to my sore throat. Giving a weak thumb’s up to show I’m okay, I wave them back, the need for air, for space, suddenly overwhelming.
I didn’t die. I didn’t see a tunnel and a distant light, nor did I witness any deceased loved ones hovering by my side, eager to help me cross over. But for a moment, a split second or two, I felt suspended, like a pendulum stuck between two worlds. Time slowed down, way down, thickening like syrup, moving like molasses, and as my vision began to blacken at the edges, I realized that I could die, could literally expire, and if I did, did I want my life to end like this?
And I don’t mean choking on a wad of pancakes, however embarrassing that might be.
I mean stuck in the middle, literally and figuratively, between two men who, at the moment, I don’t think I’m in a right enough state of mind to make any lasting decision about.
“You’re making a weird face in this one.”
I wrap my arms around myself and bounce in place. The pancakes from earlier sit like a foul lump in my gut, the consequence of the meal weighing heavy in my body as well as my mind. “It’s freezing out here, not to mention snowing like a mother. How else am I supposed to look?”
Daniel swipes through the images on his phone, photos he took of us just moments ago, and shakes his head. “You’re making weird faces in all of these. Like a grimace or something. Here.” He holds up the phone and pulls me in close. “Let’s try it again.”
Since my smiles apparently look forced, I revert to a duck face, pushing my lips together and widening my eyes like a doe while the shutter on the phone’s camera goes nuts. When I peer over Daniel’s shoulder to see the end result, I find that I look…completely ridiculous.
“Perfect,” Daniel says, a wide smile splitting his face as he swipes through his editing app, fiddling with an endless array of filters. “Check out all this snow. Everyone back home is gonna totally lose their shit.”
He’s still chuckling when I pinch the sleeve of his sweater and drag him inside. “Yes, it was the perfect photo opt. I’m sure the number of likes it generates will be astronomical.”
My sarcasm is lost on Daniel. “Do you want me to send it to you so you can post it on your page?”
“Can’t,” I say, making a beeline for the fire and holding my icy hands up to the flames. “I don’t have a smart phone, remember?” I’m still using Ben’s old flip phone, which is suiting me just fine for now. In fact, I haven’t posted anything to social media in ages. Since I got here. And now that I think about it, it’s been really…freeing.
“Ouch,” Daniel says, head still bent over his phone. “How about we go out today and get you one? You can’t keep using that piece of shit forever.”
“Um, maybe because they’re expensive and I’m still paying thirty bucks a month for the one that I lost in a freaking snow drift?” I stomp over to the couch and plop down in a corner, moody as all get out. “I can’t afford a new one.”
Daniel drops his phone in his pocket and joins me on the couch. “So what? I’ll buy it for you.” When he sees the look on my face, he groans. “It’s not a big deal, Lenny. Get over it.”
“It’s frivolous, Daniel. I don’t need a new phone when the one I have works perfectly fine.” My eyes drift to the windows, watching the snowfall as it picks up. “Besides, we’d have to drive all the way down to Duluth to get it, which is impossible because it’s blizzarding out.”
“It is not blizzarding out.”
Ben’s voice cuts in from the kitchen, a C listener to our A and B conversation.
“Shut it, Ben!” I holler back, annoyed with him, too.
Today, of all days, he decides to come home for lunch.
“Cheers to you too, Lenora,” is his dry response.
Daniel snickers, so I kick him in his shin. “Ouch? What?”
I just roll my eyes.
“Look, if Benny says it’s not a blizzard, then it’s not a blizzard. So let’s go.”
I’m just about to scream when Ben’s voice trumps the roar in my head. Appearing in the archway separating the foyer from the living ro
om, he’s the epitome of calm. “It may not be a blizzard right now, but it’s supposed to get worse. So if you’re serious about heading down to Duluth, you might want to take Nora’s Land Rover.” He takes a casual sip of coffee from the mug he’s carrying, his eyes never straying from mine. “I doubt that luxury piece of shit Danny rented would get you two very far in this weather.”
And pissing match…commence.
Daniel shoots to his feet while Ben smiles pleasantly…and I fly between the two men, hands up while shooting each one a look that could kill. “You!” I say, pointing at Daniel. “Sit! Now!”
Daniel drops back into his seat, his face a mask of shock.
Ben chuckles into his coffee, and my head whips in his direction so fast my neck cracks. “And you!” I fume, waving him away like he’s a dog I’m shooing out of the house. “Get back to work! Go! Lunch time is over.”
Pressing his lips together, like he’s holding back a laugh, he takes one more sip from his mug and then lifts it in farewell. But just before turning on his heel to leave, he gives me a wink. “Feisty looks good on you. Lenora.”
And oh-God-Almighty if that smoldering look he just gave me and the suggestive way his voice deepened when he said my name didn’t—as Mimi would so crudely put it—make my damn thighs sweat.
I stand stock still until I hear the door to the garage click closed.
I don’t move until the roar of Ben’s truck has rumbled down the driveway and out of earshot.
And when I look at Daniel, his expression says it all.
He noticed.
Shaking his head, he laughs. He laughs like the world’s on fire and, having tried everything possible to avoid the impending apocalypse, the only sane thing left to do is succumb to insanity.
“All right,” he says, rising from his seat again. “I’ve had enough of this bullshit.” His eyes slash across the room, finding mine. “Get your things, Lenny. We’re leaving. Now.”
And this time, my face is the one to give way to shock. I can barely sputter a word, though I do manage to get out a wobbly, “Excuse me?”