by Ute Jackle
I nodded, my eyes still closed, then I heard him start the engine and felt the car move slowly. The motion only made the nausea worse, and I kept dry-heaving. I pulled up my knees. When my cell phone rang, I fished it out of my jacket pocket but felt too weak to answer and let it ring in my hand until Ben took it.
“It’s Caro,” he said, taking the call. “Hey Caro, it’s Ben. Luca isn’t doing so well; I’m just giving her a ride home… She’s caught something… Yeah, caught something,” he repeated more decisively. “No, you don’t have to come, I’ll stay with her tonight… Okay, I’ll let her know. Bye.”
He put my phone in his pocket and then pulled out his own.
“Erdie, Luca’s not well. I’m taking her home. You guys go on without me, okay? No, there’s nothing you can do, I’ve got it… Yeah, sure, because of that. Shit… I’ll let her know. Bye. Caro and Erdie hope you get to feeling better soon.”
“Thanks,” I gasped through the unrelenting pain. I wanted to die, to jump out of the moving car just to end my agony, but I couldn’t move.
Ben stopped right outside the door of our building and helped me get out of the car.
“You’ll get towed if you park here,” I gasped, holding onto his shoulders so I wouldn’t keel over.
“Fuck that.” He picked me up again and carried me the entire three flights upstairs. I never would have made it up the steps on my own. In the apartment, he laid me down on my bed, where I desperately tried to ease my cramps by curling up into the fetal position.
Ben sat down beside me and stroked my back. Eventually, I let my neck relax, unable to hold back the tears anymore. The pain just wouldn’t let up, I felt like I was being ripped apart. With one finger, Ben wiped the tears from my wet cheeks.
“I’m so sorry, Luca. Please forgive me. I’m the biggest idiot in the whole world. Shit.”
I could hear by the sound of his voice how much he blamed himself.
“I shouldn’t have eaten it,” I gasped, as Ben took off my shoes.
“I’m gonna take your jeans off now, alright? So you’ll be more comfortable. I won’t look, I promise.” He carefully unbuttoned my pants and pulled down the zipper, then he peeled my jeans off and pulled the covers over me. I shivered and felt dizzy, but without the pressure around my waist, I actually felt a little better.
“Be right back.” Ben disappeared while I continued to suffer. I sat up, since laying down made my pain worse, and leaned against the cool wall. My left arm, with which I supported myself on the mattress, began to tremble from the strain. The hard wall hurt my temple and sent a sharp pain into my eye, but I couldn’t move. Then Ben came back.
“Why aren’t you lying down?” Gently, he put something warm on my stomach. A hot water bottle, and it helped ease the cramps a little.
“I can’t lie down,” I gasped. “It only hurts more.”
He slid his hand between my face and the wallpaper, reducing the pressure on my temple. Then he sat down behind me and lifted my wobbly arm off the mattress.
“Lean against me, I’ll support you.”
With my knees pulled up, I leaned my head against his chest. Ben wrapped his arms around me and rested his hands on the hot water bottle.
“I don’t even know where to start to tell you how sorry I am,” he whispered in my ear. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
His body warmth felt good, but I wasn’t able to talk. Luckily, the chills slowly subsided, and the stomach cramps gradually eased up a little, though I still felt as nauseous as before. I clung to Ben like a little baby sloth and closed my eyes. I felt safe in his arms, and it was nice not to be alone. Carefully, Ben reached under my shirt and rubbed my battered stomach in a circular motion while I cuddled up to him. His soothing touch soon made me slip into a dreamless sleep.
27
When I opened my eyes, the sun was shining into my room, spreading a bright beam of light across the blue-gray carpet. I was alone in my bed. Ben was gone. I cautiously groped down to my stomach where the hot-water bottle was sitting. It was still warm; Ben must have refilled it recently. To my relief, I wasn’t in pain anymore, only a lingering sense of nausea remained. However, I felt exhausted, as if I had partied all week long. Slowly, I sat up. My blood pressure was still low, and every move I made was met with dizziness. After waiting a bit, I felt strong enough to get up. I was still wearing the thin cardigan and the wrap-around shirt from the night before, as well as my lilac-colored cotton underwear. Ben had undressed me, as I now became embarrassingly aware. He must have seen my not-entirely-attractive granny panties. With a sigh, I went to the wardrobe before Ben could swoop in again, grabbed a purple sweatshirt and my cream-colored sweatpants. I had to sit back down to dress myself, because suddenly white dots were dancing before my eyes.
Finally, I made my shaky way to the kitchen for a glass of water. My throat felt dry and sore. To my surprise, Ben was standing at the kitchen counter scrubbing the worktop, the fridge was gaping wide open. He had taken out all shelves and set them upright in the sink.
“What are you doing?” I leaned against the door frame.
He paused, his eyes resting on me. For a moment, he looked at me silently, the hint of a smile appeared on his face.
“Good morning. You’re upright again. That’s good.” He walked over to me. “You’d better sit down, you’re still very pale.”
I did him the favor. Judging by his words, I must have looked terrible. I didn’t even want to know what my blood levels were, and I had better not mention that to Ben. He seemed remorseful enough as it was.
“I’m much better. Today, I feel like I was dragged by a car for only two miles.”
“Jeez, what was it like yesterday?”
“You don’t wanna know.” I struggled to smile. “I survived it, that’s enough for me.”
He showed me a yellow and green box. “Chamomile tea. I bought it for you this morning.”
“Thanks, that’s exactly what I need right now.” I could tell he wanted to make up for last night. “What are you doing?” I pointed at the empty fridge.
“Cleaning so that no crumbs or anything with gluten in it will be flying around. I really don’t want you to get you sick again.”
I was touched by his concern. Who would have thought he could be this considerate? I almost didn’t recognize him. He set a steaming cup on the table in front of me. The subtle aroma of chamomile rose up to my nose.
“Thank you. Where did you get that hot water bottle yesterday? It really helped me a lot.”
He smiled a little bashfully. “I often feel cold in bed in the winter, so I like to put it under my covers. But don’t ever tell anyone!” he threatened jokingly.
I giggled. How cute. The cool womanizer felt chilly in his bed at night. “I won’t tell anyone if you let me borrow it sometimes in the winter.”
“Hey, that’s blackmail,” he protested while I blew on my steaming tea. His tousled hair fell across his forehead, giving him the daring look of an adventurer.
“Exactly.”
He patted my shoulder. “You can have it whenever you like. I’ll even warm it up for you. You can’t imagine how happy I am to see you sitting in front of me. I was this close to calling an ambulance yesterday.” His voice echoed last night’s scare.
“A mistake on a gluten-free diet looks worse than it actually is. It causes a lot of pain and nausea, but you don’t usually need to go to the hospital.”
His fingers were digging into my shoulder. “I’m such an ignorant prick. God, I’m the worst.”
“Come on now.” I reached for his hand, but he flinched. “After all, I’m to blame as well. Ultimately, I ate that salad, even though I should’ve known it was probably contaminated.”
“But only because I pushed you to.”
I was startled that it wasn’t just remorse and pity coming from his mouth, it was self-loathing.
“I wasn’t taking care of myself,” I said decisively. “Things went sideways yesterday, but
it was what it was. We screwed up. So what? Happens to me all the time.”
Ben stared at me with his black-blue eyes, as a fever glowed in them that I’d never seen before. He looked at me intensely, as if trying to read my mind. But I wasn’t the one keeping him out. He had his guard up. Something inside of Ben kept him from showing me what he was feeling. His eyes displayed the tortured expression that I’d seen flash once before when he’d let his guard down for a moment. I didn’t look away, but tried to make a connection. Finally, I got up and reached out to touch the dimple next to the corner of his mouth; lightly stroking it with my finger. It was soft, a tiny little dent. Ben stood still and breathed shallowly.
“My stupid dimple won’t help me get out of this either,” he whispered, and I chuckled. How things had changed since the day I moved in, and yet there was still this invisible wall between us. Right now, he was building it higher to keep me out. I had to accept that. Probably I just wasn’t his type. In fact, I was sure of it.
“What about your car?” I asked, to break the tension.
“It was still outside the building. After you fell asleep, I went out and moved it. I figured you probably wouldn’t want to see my face first thing when you woke up anyway.”
Why did he keep doing that the whole time? Why was he beating himself up? Granted, the night could have gone better, but he acted as if I were on his conscience.
“I’ve seen worse things you know,” I said, attempting to be funny.
“You were in terrible pain because I’m a stupid selfish jerk who can’t put himself into other people’s shoes,” he snapped. “So, stop acting like it was nothing.”
“Wow, you really belong under lock and key,” I replied in mock outrage. “Listening to you talk, you must be more terrible than all the dictators of world history put together. May I have another cup of tea, Comrade Stalin?”
Ben paused, shaking his head. A tiny smile stole across his face.
“Hang on.” He walked out and came back with my wallet and my phone. “You left your money at the pizza place. That was pretty careless of you.”
“I had other things on my mind, but thanks.”
“Toby also called this morning to ask how you’re doing. They stayed with friends in Nuremberg because they couldn’t get a ride home without me.”
“Oh.” I covered my mouth with one hand. “I’m sorry about that.”
Ben rolled his eyes, rustled a tea bag out of its paper packaging, and sank it into my cup, which he refilled with hot water.
“Here you go.” With a flourish, he placed the beverage on the table.
Then he turned back to the fridge again and slid the clean shelves back in place. His shoulder blades bulged sexily under his tight-fitting white t-shirt. The hem of his shirt slipped, exposing a part of his tanned back above the waistband of his jeans. A tiny birthmark adorned his spine, and it took all my strength not to slide my hands under his shirt to explore this small, dark elevation with my fingers. Yesterday, he had held me in his arms, but I had been too sick to enjoy it. I wondered if he would ever hug me again. I strolled towards the door, because Ben had just closed the fridge and thus finished his implied little strip show.
“Hey, wait a second.” I heard him behind me. “You dropped something.”
I turned around as he leaned down to pick something up.
My ID!
It must have slipped out of my wallet.
My ID!!!
The shock almost knocked me off my feet.
“No!” In panic, I rushed up to him to rip the plastic card out of his hand, but Ben was faster and held up his arm. And there, the old look of mischief was back on his face.
“What’s the matter? Why are you making such a fuss?”
“Give it back. Right now.” My voice rose higher. Under no circumstances could I let him look at it—that would be the end of me. Wringing my hands, I begged, “Please give it back.” My voice squeaked like a rusty hinge.
He looked at me quizzically. “Why are you freaking out?”
“Give. It. Back!” I hissed and jumped up his arm like a kangaroo, but with no luck. He stretched his arm up even higher. Finally, he turned halfway around to examine my ID in peace. Ben Nowak was still a jerk. My lower lip quivered as he turned to me, trying hard not to burst out laughing.
“You lied to us,” he exclaimed in amusement when he gave me my ID back. I snatched it out of his hand.
“I’ll kill you if you tell anyone. I mean it. I’m not kidding, you hear me?”
“You’d go to jail for that.” He grinned when I nodded furiously.
“Lucrezia Vogt.” My full name literally melted in his mouth. “What were your parents thinking?”
Groaning, I closed my eyes, letting my head fall back.
“My father is a history professor,” I reluctantly explained. “He named me after Lucrezia Borgia, the daughter of Pope Alexander VI. He wrote his dissertation about him.” Why in the world did I talk Ben out of his guilty conscience earlier? I couldn’t think of one good reason. Why hadn’t I encouraged him instead? To jump off a bridge or something? Now it was all too late.
“Promise me you won’t tell anyone my real name.” I clung to his arm. “Promise me!”
His gaze wandered to my hands clawing at him. “It’s all right, I won’t tell. And now we’re gonna get you back to the asylum, okay?” He laughed.
I let go of him and tried to look a bit less like a crazy person. Maybe I could somehow secretly get rid of Ben before he opened his big mouth and told anyone about his hot discovery. Perhaps I could get my hands on some hydrochloric acid or something similarly effective. In desperation, I went through all kinds of murder scenarios.
“You’re thinking about how you could get rid of me now, aren’t you?”
I nodded to intimidate him.
“How would you do it?”
“There’s an old, half-buried sewage pipe by the railroad tracks. You’d fit perfectly in it. It would take a long time for someone to find you there,” I threatened him, which unfortunately seemed to have no effect at all.
He just sat down again and leaned back. “And how are you going to get me there?”
“I’d roll you up in a rug or something.”
He rubbed his chin. “I’m way too heavy, you’d never be able to carry me by yourself. But you could saw me into pieces to get me out of here,” he suggested, and I thought this was a pretty good idea.
“All I’d need is a chainsaw. I can get one of those at any hardware store.”
“But it would be a huge mess, I can tell you that much. Toby would be so mad if you got our bathroom all full of blood.”
With a heavy heart, I ditched my murderous plot. Unfortunately, Ben was right.
I sat down next to him and took a sip of my now lukewarm tea.
He leaned in. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” He held up three fingers. “After all, I owe you one. Besides, you’re totally exaggerating. Lucrezia actually sounds kinda cool.”
“Yeah, very cool.” Dammit. It wasn’t just the stupid name that bothered me, but the reason why I’d chosen to shorten it.
28
We sat in silence for a while. Ben had poured himself a glass of water while I sipped my tea.
“Shall I make you something to eat?” he asked eventually, but I shook my head.
“No thanks, I don’t really feel up to eating.”
But Ben wouldn’t let up. Sometimes he could be really persistent. “You should eat something. It’s almost lunchtime, and you’re still so pale that you’re starting to scare me.”
Subtlety was certainly not one of Ben’s strengths.
“Alright, I’ll have a rice cake. They’re up there on the shelf.”
He got up and rummaged around in the cupboard until he pulled out a white roll. “You eat these? They look like Styrofoam.”
“I’ll have to be on a bland diet for a few days to ease my stomach into digesting normal food, or else I’ll get cramps all
over again.”
His guilty countenance hit me on the spot. He handed me the rice cakes.
“It’s not a big deal.” I broke off a piece, put it in my mouth, and chewed.
Ben looked at me expectantly. “How is it?”
I broke off another bit. “It’s fine, tastes good with the tea. I don’t feel queasy anymore.”
“See? You just needed something in your stomach. Told you.” He sat back down.
“You took good care of me.” I sipped my tea. “You put me into bed, you even took my pants off.” I faltered.
“What—do you mean?” Rigidly, Ben waited for an answer. My stomach started to go queasy again, but not from the rice cakes.
“Nothing,” I brushed it off. “Nothing, really. It’s just…” I searched for the right words. “It just doesn’t feel so great knowing you undressed me when I was in such bad shape.”
His larynx bobbed as he swallowed. Oh, no, that had come out all wrong.
“Are you asking if I felt you up? Why don’t you ask me directly if the lecher took advantage of your situation?” He jumped up and seemed deeply hurt. “Let me reassure you. I certainly didn’t feel any urge to get into your pants last night.”
“That’s not what I meant at all.”
“What did you mean then?”
“You…” I lowered my eyelids. This was hard. “You’ve seen so many beautiful girls, and then there I was yesterday, the mess I must have looked like… And then… That.”
“That’s a load of garbage.” He finished the sentence for me. Before I could say anything back, he grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me to the hallway. He stopped in front of the mirror. He made me stand right in front of it, while he stood behind me and held me tightly by my upper arms.
“What do you see?” he asked, looking at my reflection in the mirror.
Shocked, I held my breath. I looked terrible. My skin was ghostly pale, and I had dark circles under my eyes.
“Oh my God,” I gasped. “I look like a drowned corpse.”
“Nonsense.” Ben sounded annoyed. “So, you’re a little pale. But take a closer look.” He ran his knuckles across my cheek. “Your skin is velvety soft, and usually you have a bit of color here. Every time you smile, your eyes sparkle. When you lower your eyelids and slowly look up again, it goes right through me—like a jolt of electricity.”