24. Twenty-Four
Twenty-Four
LENA
T wo weeks later, I climb into the passenger seat of Dot’s work van, plagued with nerves.
Why should this plan be any better than the handful of others I’ve attempted since the picnic?
Ben’s admission about his unresolved anger over the IED and its aftermath felt like a breakthrough, the same as telling me about his anger toward Lauren at gator-park.
He’s letting me in one admission at a time—a strategy that’d be fine if it happened more often.
Instead of the door inching open bit by bit, he cracks it and shuts it again.
The girls and I’ve worked extra hard to create time for us.
Ruthie’s had plenty of play dates and sleepovers so I could arrange the same for Ben and me, both spontaneous and planned, and they always fall through.
He’s working. He’s not up for it. He’s got a headache.
He’s got things to do. Every excuse hurts a little more than the one before, which is why I’m so nervous now.
Thanks to the family calendar, I know his plan today, and I hope to join him.
If he’ll let me.
It’s a big if .
“Thanks for doing this,” I say, buckling my seatbelt.
“No prob,” Dot says, blowing the cloud from her vape pen out the window.
Jaye stands with Elsie Todd near the carport, reviewing today’s schedule—a meeting I usually attend but can’t this morning. Dot nods quickly in Jaye’s direction, earning her a coy grin and a wave.
“How’s that going?” I ask as she rumbles down the bumpy driveway.
“I did it.” Dot blushes.
“Did what?”
“I did it. ”
She looks like she’s trying to share a secret with me telepathically, her eyes sparkling mischievously. Then, it hits me.
“You asked her out?” I gasp. “She said yes, right?”
“Better than yes.”
“What’s better than yes?”
“Only that we asked each other out at the same time,” she beams. “She said yes to dinner after inviting me to Wilmington Comic-Con on Saturday. She’ll be there signing her graphic novels. Anyway, she’s got us all tickets. Please, say you’ll come.”
“Me? To a comic-con?” I wince. “Ruthie mentioned it. Adam’s going as Spiderman, and she automatically wants to do whatever he’s doing.”
“She can dress up, too.” She turns her dark eyes toward me, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “Maybe you can go as Chewbacca.”
“I am not dressing up.”
“But you’ll go with me, right? Hang out with me while she’s doing her thing? Ben can come, too. He’ll make a perfect robot.”
“Hmm, worth a shot,” I say, adding it to the family calendar. “But I won’t get my hopes up.”
She side-glances me. “How’d counseling go?”
“I’m working on active listening and facing problems head-on. He’s working on communication and trying to stop practicing avoidance—no more extra shifts or turning down my offers to spend time together.”
Dot looks skeptical. “How’s that working out for you?”
I shrug lightly. “It’s not. I haven’t seen him much. We’ll see how today goes.”
I fidget with the hem of my sundress and nibble the inside of my mouth.
I knew counseling wouldn’t magically fix us overnight—it’s a process that requires work and time.
But Ben didn’t want to be there. I did ninety percent of the talking—no surprise—and even Dr. Reese, who knows Ben well, couldn’t crack his code of silence.
Counseling won’t help if he’s unwilling to give it a chance.
“Lena, babe. Here’s one way you can face problems head-on. Tell him not to take the job. That’s where the problems started—”
“No, we had problems before that. That’s just when I started to see them.”
“Still… it’s okay to say you have a problem with him working with his ex— anyone would. Maybe that’s what he needs to hear.”
“ Or he’ll think I’m robbing him of a great opportunity, want the job even more, and resent me for keeping him from it. Then, he’ll take the job to spite me and run straight into Lauren’s open arms.”
“Dude, Ben’s your husband. He’d do anything for you and Ruthie. If you tell him the job’s a bad idea, he’ll listen.”
“I don’t want to be that wife,” I say, glancing at my outfit again. “Without Ben, I never would’ve dreamed of Saddletree, let alone pulled it off. Hell, he lives in my dream and supports me at every turn. How can I stand between him and a job he wants?”
“You and Ruthie are his dream, Lena. And Saddletree. He wouldn’t be so involved in making changes if he didn’t care about the place. He’s on the fence about the job. All I’m saying is to help him off the fence. Gently.”
“I don’t know. Maybe. But that’s not what today’s about,” I say, straightening my dress again.
Dot side-eyes me. “Are you nervous?”
“Yes.”
She scoffs. “Why? It’s Ben. It’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know how he’ll react… Can you stick around until I give you a thumbs up? Just in case he hates that I’m there?”
“He won’t hate—”
“Dot, please. I honestly don’t know anymore.”
She catches my stern tone and nods dutifully. “There’s something you’re not telling me. What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“You want me to make something up? I told you, it’s nothing.”
“Then, there is an it . What?”
I huff, loving and hating how well she knows me. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
She slams on the brakes, sending us both forward with an uncomfortable jolt. “Holy fuck, Dot!”
“Has he hurt you? Physically? Or verbally? Or anything like that? So help me God, I’ll—”
“Dot, no! Absolutely not! Nothing like that!”
Cars honk around us, but Dot ignores them. She takes a deep breath to quell her sudden fury. “You said you didn’t know how he’d react, and my brain went to red alert.”
“I get it. I’m sorry. But I promise—Ben would never.”
She nods. “Yeah, I didn’t think so, but had to make sure.”
A light chuckle escapes at her overzealous protection. “I appreciate it, my personal Zena Warrior Princess.”
“Damn straight.” She starts driving again while reaching for her vape pen. “Only a sword won’t fit with my murder plan.”
“What murder plan?”
“Oh, Cherry and I have talked about it at length. Not murdering Ben, but her ex or any guy in general. We have a solid plan that prevents us from getting caught, should we need it. It’s quite clever.”
This information doesn’t surprise me, and I don’t doubt it either. “I’d like to hear this plan.”
“No. Tell me what it is.”
“I fell asleep on the couch waiting for him to come home last night, and he didn’t wake me up.” My shoulders bounce with the quick explanation that sounds so small and insignificant. “He just went to bed without me.”
“Maybe he didn’t want to disturb you,” she tries.
“That’s what he said this morning, but it’s bullshit.
I’ve fallen asleep waiting for him hundreds of times when he works the split shift.
He always wakes me, usually with a kiss.
Sometimes, he carries me to bed. He’s never left me there before.
No, he didn’t want to talk to me. It was easier for him to sneak off to bed than to have a conversation. ”
Dot groans. “So much for avoiding avoidance. Am I right?”
“Yeah… I’m losing him. The harder I try to connect with him, the more he pushes back. I’m starting to think… Ben’s falling out of love with me, Dot. Little by little, he’s slipping through my fingers. I feel him pulling away, see it when he looks at me. I’m not even sure he realizes it yet.”
I droop in my seat, the admission zapping my energy. I needed to hear myself say it. Last night confirmed my worst fear—he’d rather be without me.
“I don’t believe that’s true,” she says, “but let’s put it to the test. He won’t want you here if he doesn’t love you.
I bet he won’t turn you away when you show up…
I’ll even go as far as to say he’ll be glad to see you.
When I win, you must promise to stop talking like that, okay? Ben loves you. You must know that.”
I sigh, knowing how easily that can change. “What if I win?”
“Then, I’ll let you and Cherry do that fucking makeover on me that you’ve always wanted to do, dresses, heels, make-up, the works— that’s how damn sure I am.”
I laugh at our preposterous makeover plans concocted over too much wine one night. We would never change Dot. But her willingness to risk being turned into a girly girl speaks to her confidence and upticks mine slightly.
“Fine. Deal. But promise me, you won’t take off to force his hand. Crying my ass off while waiting for an Uber will be hella humiliating.”
“I’ll wait for the thumbs up. Promise.” She puts on her calm voice, and once she pulls into a space street-side in front of the clinic, she parks and turns off the motor to satiate me.
Still, my anxiety surges.
Ben’s blue Jeep isn’t here yet—I made sure to arrive twenty-five minutes early so there was no chance of him entering the building first.
I take cleansing breaths, watching the gentle sway of the multi-colored crepe myrtles lining the street.
“Ben isn’t Mark, you know,” she says after a few silent minutes. “There’s no falling out of love with you. It’s a rough patch. That’s all.”
“Then, tell me why I feel this way?” I return, measuring my breaths to avoid the panic in my chest.
“It’s your first storm. You’re scared. You both are.”
Across the street, Ben’s Jeep pulls into the small parking lot beside the building, and he backs into the first space. My fears compound, making me second-guess my brilliant idea to show up for him. He doesn’t like surprises.
“This was a bad idea,” I sputter.
“No, it wasn’t. Go get ‘em, tiger.” Dot gently shoves my shoulder and motions to Ben, who heads to the front door.
I topple from the van, adjust my skirt, and clop around the sidewalk.
“Ben!” I call out as he approaches the stoop. When he doesn’t stop, Dot lays on the horn. “Ben!”
Our eyes lock, and I wave timidly. He looks confused but meets me on the sidewalk, where I tiptoe on my wedges to give him a short kiss on the cheek.
“Hey,” I say. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“I have an appointment. What’re you doing here?”
“Um, going with you to your appointment. If you’ll have me.”
His hesitation spikes my already-primed anxiety and assures me that asking Dot to stay was a good plan. Her engine starts and revs behind me, waiting for the signal, and I pray she doesn’t leave yet.
“Is this okay?” I ask and sign together, my fingers trembling with nerves.
His hands rest on his hips as he scans the perimeter, perhaps searching for a way to escape me. My heart sinks with every passing second. It feels like last night, waking up to a dark living room with the TV off and realizing he’d left me there by choice.
My inner hollow grows as I scramble to fix yet another mistake. “Um, if you don’t want—”
“Lena.”