Chapter 21 Ella
“Oh my God,” I whispered, my hand over my mouth as I stared down at my phone.
Across its screen splashed a series of photos of Ben and Hani in a hallway of the rehabilitation center in Boston where he’d had his testing done.
In one, they hugged. In the next, Hani was crying.
And then the final one showed him leading his son away as though he had to physically support him.
They were still shots from a video. I pulled it up, fingers shaking as it played out. By the time it ended, I was crying.
Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no.
The story was from six o’clock last night.
What time had I fallen asleep to have missed this?
I read through the accompanying article in a near panic, my eyes flying over the screen as I tried to keep from fearing the worst. It became apparent quite quickly that the writer didn’t really know anything, that they were only jumping to the same conclusions that I was based on how upset Ben and his dad looked.
I clicked on another link, and then another and another, until I found the story that started it all.
A smaller Boston news channel first broke the news that Ben was at the clinic.
No wonder I had missed it. The piece was pretty neutral, citing Ben’s PR rep and her statement that Ben and his parents were visiting the clinic because of their charity.
I read several more stories, searching for answers that no one seemed to have.
Eventually I landed on a YouTube video from the biggest sports network in the country.
Six large men in suits sat around a half-moon table discussing Ben’s absence from the limelight, his appearance at the clinic, and how they didn’t believe his PR rep.
Not after the photos of him and his dad surfaced.
The panel was split between empathy and dislike.
Some of them sided with the league against Ben and all the “trouble” he’d made for the sport, while others defended him.
The round table erupted into argument toward the end, and, God, it was so ugly.
I set my phone down before I broke it.
Sam whimpered from beside me on the bed and scooted a little closer.
I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him.
I hated those men. I hated them all. Even the ones on Ben’s side.
Because they had agreed to go on national television and have this debate about him in the first place.
How dare they do this to him? How could they treat a fellow player, hell, a fellow human like this when all he’d ever wanted was to make things safer for other people?
My phone rang. I let go of Sam and scrambled to pick it up, praying it was Ben. It was Jane.
“Hi,” I said.
“Holy shit, Ella. I called you three times last night. Where have you been?”
“I slept through it. Sorry, I was exhausted.”
“Did you see the news?”
“Yeah.”
“The story I wrote is being published tomorrow.”
My fingers tightened on my phone. “What?”
“I’m sorry. I can’t call the editor and ask him to postpone it again. He’ll know something’s up. He’s a reporter, after all. And he wouldn’t do it even if I begged. The timing is too perfect for him to delay.”
“Do you think it’s going to make this worse?” I asked, voice small.
Jane sighed. “Yes. Because with Ben already in the spotlight, it’ll probably turn the ongoing media frenzy into a dogpile.”
“I don’t know whether or not I should warn him.”
“Does he have CTE?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him yet. Either way, this is horrible timing. I don’t want to make him more stressed than he already is. But would knowing this is coming ahead of time be better? Or is he so out of it that there’s a chance he might miss it completely?”
“I’m sorry, Ella. I don’t know what to tell you. The article wasn’t supposed to be published until Thursday, but they want to jump on the bandwagon and put it out there while the story is relevant to current headlines.”
I had to take several deep breaths before responding. “Sometimes I fucking hate the kind of people you work with.”
“Trust me, so do I. Again, I’m so sorry. Can I do anything else? Do you need anything?”
“I don’t think so…” I began, then changed my mind. “Actually, yes. Come help me get these open orders done. I’m closing down the shop for a while.” I needed to be ready to drop everything in case Ben called.
“I’ll be there in thirty,” she told me.
We hung up. I checked my other messages. Nothing from Ben. I tried not to panic.
Jane pulled into my driveway just as the sun broke over the mountains.
Together, we printed and put together my open orders, carefully packaged them, and put them into boxes and mailers.
She ran them to the post office for me on her way home while I went through the long process of putting all my storefronts on vacation mode.
And then I waited for Ben to call.
One day passed. Nothing.
Day two, the media frenzy over Jane’s story hit. It was so bad I had to delete my news apps.
Ben still didn’t call.
Three days passed. I applied distraction techniques to keep my mind occupied. I bundled up and took the dogs snowshoeing, careful not to overdo it this time.
I’d read a study a while back about how two hours a day in nature could cure you of everything, and while I thought that was a bit inflated, it definitely helped me a little.
Once I was back inside, I got a fire going and focused on staying positive.
I read articles about young engineers solving the world’s problems. A kid still in high school discovered plastic-eating bacteria that might clean up our oceans.
Another found you could kill the invasive kudzu vines eating the entire south using helium.
Four days passed. Not even those feel-good articles or exercise helped my mood. I broke down and called Jack.
“Is he home?” I asked.
“He is, kiddo,” Jack answered. “But I only know because his dad came by to tell me when they got back from Boston yesterday. I still have the dogs, so I’m guessing they’re a little preoccupied.”
“How did Hani seem?”
Jack was quiet for a while before answering. “Not good, kiddo. I’d get ready to hear some bad news.”
My panic became a living, breathing thing. I could feel its fingers digging into my chest, searching for my heart. It whispered terrible things to me, giving voice to all of my greatest fears.
Five days passed without word from Ben.
I read and re-read every PDF Sophia sent me. I applied all of the techniques she suggested to help me cope with the emotional storm that raged inside of me.
A whole week went by.
On day eight, I got a text.
Ella, this is Hani. Are you able to come to Ben’s?
On my way, I texted back.
I was out of the door in a flash.
I’d been ready for this. Had prayed for this. A bag with a week’s worth of clothes sat on the passenger seat of my truck. Anabel was going to watch my place and the dogs for me while I was gone. Mom and Dad told her no boys. I told her just don’t have sex in my bed.
I texted her as the truck warmed up.
Be right over, she texted back.
What?! Don’t you have school?
It’s Saturday.
Oh. Sorry.
God, I was out of it.
Just in case it took her some time to get here, I let the dogs out to go to the bathroom. When they were all cleaned up and back inside, I hugged and kissed them both before telling them to be good for Auntie Anabel.
And then I was off, locking the door and sprinting back to my truck.
I forced myself to drive slowly. It had snowed again last night, and I was so emotional and exhausted that I didn’t trust myself on the slushy mess the roads had turned into.
It took me an eternity to get to Ben’s. I yanked my keys out of the ignition as soon as I rolled to a stop and then ran up to the front door.
Ben’s father opened it, almost as tall as his son. His face was drawn, his clothes rumpled like he’d been wearing them for a few days.
“Hi,” I said.
He opened the door wider to let me in. “Thank you for coming over.”
His voice was quiet, so I lowered my own. “You’re welcome. What do you need?”
“We’re running low on food.”
I followed him to the kitchen, keeping my million and one questions to myself. Because priorities.
He stopped at the island counter and turned to face me. “Ben and Klara are both sleeping.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice to hold out if I spoke.
It was the middle of the day. They were both asleep.
Not a good sign. Especially when added to the fact that now we were in better light, it looked like Hani hadn’t slept at all.
His dark eyes were bloodshot. His face had an ashen hue to it.
All traces of the laughter that I’d once seen in his eyes was gone.
Together, we wrote out a shopping list.
Deep breaths, I told myself as I climbed back into my truck. Don’t jump to conclusions.
Maybe they were just emotionally exhausted. Maybe they were recovering from the buildup of stress leading to the tests. Maybe this was how Ben and Klara and Hani manifested relief.
But I didn’t really believe any of that. I was just shoving the lies down my throat to keep it together while I bought milk and bread and eggs and all the other essentials.
Like always, I ran into several people I knew at the store.
One was a high school friend of mine who was back in town to visit her folks.
She held me hostage for several long minutes in aisle seven as she caught me up on all the latest drama of her big city life.
I nodded along, impatiently, praying for her to just shut up.
I hightailed it out of there afterward, flat-out ignoring whoever it was that called my name in the parking lot.