31. Thirty-One
Thirty-One
BEN
I don’t stir and keep my eyes shut when I feel Lena get out of bed the next morning. Or when she sneaks to my bedside and takes my phone. She expects me to be hungover and commandeers my phone like I’ve done to her when she needed sleep.
Only I haven’t slept all night.
I feel Ruthie’s heavy feet thump through the house when she wakes and the closing door when she leaves with Jack. I vaguely hear movement in the kitchen—dishes, water running, clinks and thumps of Busy Lena.
When I finally emerge from the bedroom, dressed and prepared, I find her exactly as I expect to—engrossed in busy work.
She smiles warmly when she sees me. “Hey, good morning. Feeling alright?”
My throat nearly closes. “What’s all this?”
“Oh, a surprise for you,” she beams coyly. “Let’s go off-roading. I’ll drive. We’ll picnic on the sand, hang out, swim, relive that beach kiss, remember?”
“Lena, I can’t.” My army-green duffle drops to the floor by my feet, and I drape my dry-cleaned uniforms on top. I avoid eye contact as I cross the room and grab my keys and phone from the island. I prompt my screen and send a hurried text before tucking it in my pocket.
“Why not? What’re you doing?” She stumbles around the island, nearly tripping over her feet and looking desperate as her eyes go from my bag to me again.
I manage the words I’ve prepared, but they come out weakly. “It’s not good for me to be here now. I need time. Away.”
She waves off my words like a fly buzzing near her face. “No. It’s Sunday. Let’s spend the day together. Just you and me. I made us a picnic. I promise not to interrogate you or be pushy. We’ll sit in the sun and watch the waves.”
“That won’t help.”
“Yes, it will.” Her lips curve into a strained smile and her eyes flood with tears, as if part of her understands what’s happening while the other is still catching up.
“The beach is always a good idea. That’s where I first told you about my dreams for Saddletree.
You helped me believe it was possible. You’re making decisions about your future, so it’s fitting to do it there, right?
We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. We can just… be there together.”
“I’m telling you we can’t be together right now. Every time we’re together, I hurt you.” I step closer, hands rising submissively like I’m about to talk her down from the ledge. “I’m sorry. It kills me to say it. But I have to go.”
Her head bobs in a weird half-shake, like the words don’t make sense. “You’re leaving me?”
She winces slightly when I take her hands. I hold up her casted arm, and seeing her bruised and swollen fingers from last night’s stumble at the door makes tears fall from my eyes. “I can’t keep hurting you.”
“You’re hurting me now,” she cries.
“It’s best for us—”
“No! What’s best for us is being together,” she says. “That’s what you’ve always said to me.”
I swallow like I’m choking and stop myself from crumbling into her. “I love you. Please, try to understand that this is different—”
“No, Ben. It’s a rough patch. That’s all. You can’t leave. Please.”
“I’m sorry. I see how hard you’re trying. I know you’d do anything for me, that you love me. Love isn’t the problem. I am. It’s unfair for me to stay, unfair for me to heap blame and frustration onto you like a fucking packhorse. All I do is hurt you. And last night…”
I falter then, bowing my head to the pain forcing its way through me. She cups my cheek, bringing me back to her. “What about last night?”
“I broke our trust,” I manage, my voice cracking. “It’s one of our rules… If we’re both not all in, it shouldn’t happen. I knew you weren’t all in, but you’d give in to me, anyway. I took advantage—”
“No, you didn’t. I wanted to—”
“You cried in the bathroom. Didn’t you?”
She doesn’t answer.
“You know that wasn’t us. That was… you accommodating me, forcing a smile, holding me all night even though I hurt you. Over and over again. I can’t…”
I succumb to my emotions, sobbing into the space between us.
“I can’t let you lose yourself in me like you did with your mom and Mark.
I can’t be Mr. Wickers, dependent on you for my well-being while you force your smiles, mediate my conversations, and stay busy to make me happy.
I can’t be the husband you need, either.
I’m not sure he even exists anymore. Please understand.
It’s just too difficult to be here now.”
She nods. “I’m too much. I’ve always been too much. I’m sorry. I’ll keep my distance. You don’t have to leave. I’ll sleep on the couch—you can have the bedroom—”
“Stop being so fucking accommodating, please. That won’t work.”
“Tell me what will work, Ben? Something that will keep you here. If you go, you won’t come back—I know you won’t. You can’t do this. Please, don’t do this.”
Her pleading eyes almost do me in, especially when she pushes into me and kisses me with anguished desperation. I want so badly to say, “Fuck this stupid idea,” and take her to bed like last night. But it won’t make things better. I gently pull away.
“You’d do anything for me, right? I need you to let me go,” I say, and her hands fall away like she can’t help it.
She curls into herself, hand to mouth in a vain attempt to stifle her sobs. It takes every ounce of my remaining fortitude not to comfort her.
“Let you go? How? How can you even ask me that? That’s the worst thing you’ve ever fucking said to me.” Her fingers tremble, and her breathing becomes labored and quick as she tries to form words. “Does this mean—? Are you divorcing me?”
“Lena, breathe. It doesn’t mean that. I don’t want it to be forever. It just means I need time.”
“A day? A week?”
“I don’t know.”
“What about Ruthie?” she says, crumbling with the words.
“I will be here for Ruthie,” I say sternly. “I’ll keep up my usual schedule with her, and whatever else you want me to do. I’m not leaving you alone to parent our daughter without me. I promise.”
“But Ben, what will I say to her when you aren’t here tonight?”
“I’ll talk to her and tell her the truth, in simple terms—that I’m having a hard time and need extra help to fix it.
That’s my plan, Lena. With some distance, I think I can break this cycle of hurting you and figure my shit out.
I’ve consulted Dr. Reese about adding more individual sessions, and I’ll continue with our couple’s appointments. ”
“How can we work on our relationship if you aren’t here?”
“Dr. Reese will help us figure that out. Please, try to understand—I’m doing this for us.”
“Bullshit,” she cries. “This is about Lauren, isn’t it?”
“No. It has nothing to do with her. I promise.”
“Where will you be?”
“Becca’s.”
My guilt compounds with each tear she sheds, and they stream in long bands down her cheeks. “Please, Lena. Tell me you’ll be okay.”
She takes a breath, seeming to compose herself, and glares at me like I’m crazy.
“No. I’ve always told you the truth. I won’t lie now.
I’m not okay with this. I’ll never be okay with this.
It’s not the right thing. You’re so worried about changes and me having to take care of you that you’re pushing me away— that’s what this is. You’re pulling the fucking fire alarm!”
The memory makes me back-step and shake my head like I might rid myself of it.
When I was a middle schooler struggling with dyslexia, I’d pull the fire alarm to escape the pressure in my classes.
I said the same words to Lena five years ago when she panicked and nearly walked out on me.
Sometimes, the pressure builds until you must do something drastic to relieve it.
My eyes close tightly, sending fresh tears down my cheeks. She’s right—I’m pulling the fire alarm. Her world, her emotions, her love—it’s all too big for me, and I need to get small. To protect her, I have to.
I lean close and kiss her cheek. “I love you, Lena. Always. But I have to go.”
The front door opens, and Dot rushes in. “What the fuck, Ben? What’s wrong? I got here as soon as I could.”
“Lena needs you.” I gather my bag and clothes and assure Lena, “I’ll call you tonight.”
Quick, long strides bring me to the front door, brushing by Dot and ignoring her heavy what-the-fuck look. Then, the door clicks closed behind me.
I get as far as the Harvey’s driveway before I have to pull over. I break down, unable to stop it, but determined not to cry like this again.
Pull it in. Drink water. Drive on. Do your fucking duty.
Relief sneaks in where my emotions dwell. It’s done, and the worst is over. The pressure relents the further I get from Saddletree.