Chapter 18 #2
As I hurtle out of the elevator, I glance at my desk.
Ben is there, sitting in my chair, chatting with Melissa.
I wonder if my desk is still too ‘colourful’ for his liking.
They’re laughing, and it’s a lovely sight to see.
On witnessing this, happiness expands inside me.
When Ben spots me, he springs up and gives my chair back.
“What time do you call this?” Melissa jokes.
I carefully wade through the mountain of discarded bags on the floor. “Sorry. Train was delayed.”
Taking my seat, I glance at Ben. He’s already looking at me. His eyes twinkle in the sun’s rays. We offer small smiles to each other, like we have a secret that nobody else can know about.
“What was it this time?” Melissa asks, exhaling. “Operational issue?”
“People on the tracks, I think.”
“Idiots. Anyway, I’ve got about fifty things to do by the end of the day, so I’ll talk to you later.” She turns back to Ben. “It was nice talking to you again. Don’t be a stranger.” With that, she swings around, pulls her chair closer to her desk, and plugs her AirPods into her ears.
I lead Ben to the meeting room I booked last night. Along the way, I ask him about how his dad is faring.
“Still the same, as far as I know. No news is good news, though.”
“Sorry,” I mumble. “How are you?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“Does it matter?” he asks, brows drawn together.
“Yes, it matters a lot, actually.”
Ben takes a deep breath, raising his shoulders.
“It’s okay to be worried about him. He is your dad.”
Ben looks up at me but doesn’t offer anything.
Instead, he flashes a forced smile. I don’t push him.
If he wanted to talk about it, he would.
We continue towards the meeting room. Ben is walking dangerously close to me.
If Mrs Adams was to see, I’d likely receive another lecture about professionalism.
I hold the conference room door open for Ben.
Once he’s inside, I hang a sign that reads ‘In use. Do not disturb’ on the door.
I’m hopeful that this will deter James Adams from entering if he happens to walk by.
Right away, Ben and I get down to business.
I catch Ben up on what he’s missed, starting with Bethany’s therapist’s email and finishing with the correspondence received from the HSE.
I also inform him of further case law I stumbled upon in support of our argument.
For the entire day, we work on Bethany’s appeal.
We review trial transcripts, prepare all relevant submissions and motions, and condense all of our arguments and evidence into one seventy-five-page file.
By the time 5:00 approaches, we’re still proofing this file.
Ben’s stomach grumbles, shattering the still, concentrated silence that has been erected between us.
I peep over my laptop. “Hungry?”
“A bit. But I think this appeal is more important.” His stomach groans again.
I look at the time on my laptop screen. It’s after 5:00. “I know it’s not what we’d originally planned, but we could order a pizza?”
Ben rubs his stomach with a large hand. “Pizza sounds great.”
The pizza arrives twenty minutes later. Ben and I take a break to eat it. We dig in, wolfing down the pizza like we haven’t eaten in days. The cardboard box is covered in sticky grease and so are most of the napkins it came with.
Between bites, Ben says, “I want to know more about you, Nick.”
I laugh uncomfortably. “Ben, you already know everything there is to know about me. Was three years of college not enough?”
Ben scoffs. “Not that stuff. I want to know more about your life afterwards.”
“That’s quite a broad range. Can you be a little bit more specific?”
Ben pinches his face. Judging by how quickly he responds, this question has likely been at the forefront of his curious mind for a while. “Tell me about the posh boy. How did that happen?”
“Tom?” I ask, taken aback.
“Yes.”
“It’s not a very interesting story. We were together for a long time.
Honestly, I thought we’d be together forever.
” My mind turns to mush when I glimpse Ben’s eyes.
It’s hard to talk about the man I used to be with while I sit across from a man I could be with.
“I guess we were very different people, and all good things come to an end.”
“What do you mean?”
“We came from two different worlds. Tom grew up in wealth – rich parents, two holidays each year, yacht clubs and private schools. And I… Well, you know.”
Ben signals for me to continue.
“We were happy for a time. In fairness to Tom, he never made me feel less than because of where I came from.”
Ben shifts in his chair, repositioning his elbows on the table. “That was nice of him.”
“But there were cracks, don’t get me wrong. His family didn’t appreciate the fact that I was a boy, so I was never invited to any family functions.” I shut my eyes tightly to conquer the rising tears. “His dad didn’t even know I existed.”
“What?” Ben shrieks. “How did you two manage to live together then?”
I rest my head in my hands, ashamed for not standing up for myself. “If anyone asked, I was Tom’s tenant.”
Ben shakes his head disapprovingly. “Jesus, that’s not right.”
“I know.” I sigh.
There’s a moment of silence. I keep my head down, studying a stain on the carpet.
“So, what was the trouble that forced you to Gorey?” Ben asks after a minute.
I inhale. “I guess we were growing apart. And then it all came to a head. One day everything seemed fine; we were happy pretending that everything was okay. The next, Tom told me he wasn’t happy anymore.”
“That’s tough, Nick. I’m sorry.” Ben rubs his lips together. “But you’re still hopeful that you two can reconnect?”
I have no idea what I’m hopeful for anymore.
If he’d asked me this question a week ago, I would’ve instantly replied with ‘Yes’.
But things are not the same as they were a week ago.
Seeing Ben positioned mere metres away from me, stuffing a greasy slice of pizza into his marvellous mouth, reminds me of this.
Instead of reproclaiming my love for Tom or declaring my desire for Ben, I decide to say, “We’ll see what happens.”
The sun logs off for the day before we do. With a sky bathed in shadows, Ben and I finish proofing the final document at 8:30. Now there’s only one step left to complete. Together, Ben and I sit in front of my laptop. Everything is ready to go. All we have to do is hit ‘send’.
“Do you want to do it?” Ben whispers into my ear. The sound of his voice tickles.
“I think you should do it.”
Ben places his hand over mine. “Why don’t we do it together?”
He puppets my hand over to my laptop’s trackpad. We hover over the left button for a beat.
“Are you ready?” he whispers.
“Yes.”
Together, we hit send. Bethany’s appeal has officially been filed with the appellate court. We’re one step closer to getting her out of the Focus Facility.
I turn to Ben. “What happens now?”
While thinking, he nibbles his bottom lip and crinkles his brow. “We wait to hear back from the Court of Appeal. They’ll give us a date for the hearing, we’ll present our arguments, and then they’ll make a decision.”
“And how long until we hear back?”
Ben shrugs and pouts. “Could be weeks. Could be months. It all depends.”
For Bethany’s sake, I hope it’s just weeks.
“Is there a way to speed up the process?” I ask.
Ben’s answer is just what I expect: “Not unless you know the judge outside of work.”
My expression dulls. Seeing my dismay, Ben puts his arm over my shoulder. Because the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, I can feel the skin of his forearm against my neck. It’s wonderous.
Looking down at me, Ben declares, “We did good work today. And there’s nothing more we can do until the Court of Appeal get in touch.”
“How do you do that?” I’m looking at his mouth. Beneath his dark stubble, his lips are as pink as tulips.
He inches a little closer to me. “Do what?”
I shimmy closer to him. My voice is so quiet, I barely hear the words I mutter. “Stay so calm?”
A magnet pulls us together. We maintain eye contact, him looking down at me and me looking up at him. As I draw nearer to him, I breathe him in, the scent of his sweat mixed with the Lynx he put on this morning.
My heart is drumming in my chest. My breath catches in my throat. Ben tilts his head downwards. I angle mine upwards. I carefully part my lips. Ben slowly opens his mouth.
Then I press my lips against his. His beard grazes my skin, sending a violent tickle up my jaw. His tender lips are warm; his tongue is warmer. I want to jump inside him, be completely swallowed up. Ben cups my face with his strong hands. From his touch, rivers of passion surge through my body.
Abruptly, my phone starts to vibrate on the table, shattering the mood. The tower Ben and I had created topples, leaving nothing but rubble, disappointment, and envy for what could have been in its wake.
“You should get that,” Ben says, retreating. He turns away from me to look out into the night.
The phone is still buzzing when I peep, “Come back.”
Ben shakes his head. “They’re still ringing you. It must be important. Believe me, I know all about the importance of taking a phone call.”
Reluctantly, I reach for my phone. If this is Brendan with something stupid, I’ll kill him. It isn’t Brendan, though. It isn’t any of my family, for that matter. It’s Tom.
My heart skips a beat. Why is Tom ringing me? Why now? If it’s about my stuff, a text would’ve sufficed. With hesitant fingers, I slide to answer. When I press my phone to my cheek, the vein in my neck throbs.
“Hey, Nick. I wasn’t sure if you’d answer.” The familiar sound of his voice unstiffens my muscles.
I look uneasily at Ben, who’s still peering out the window. “Hi, Tom.” I look at the ground. “Yeah, sorry – I was busy with work,” I lie. I don’t look at Ben after this fabrication. I can’t.
“I got your text there last week. Sorry I’ve taken so long to reply. Work’s been mental.” His voice is quivering, a tell-tale sign that Tom is nervous.
“Really?”
“Yeah. A new person started, and I have to show him the ropes. And my manager’s being quite demanding.” He’s waffling, another sign that he is nervous.
I sigh. “That’s shit.”
There’s a silence. Ben leaves the meeting room, and I press the phone closer to my ear.
Tom is the first to fracture the silence. “Anyway, about your stuff. Are you free this Sunday?”
I look upwards, racking my brain. To my recollection, I don’t have anything planned. “I… I think so.”
“If you want to come up then, we can sort through your things, and then maybe we can go for dinner together or something?” Tom asks, nerves still apparent in his shaky voice.
I pause. Tom is acting strangely. Ringing instead of texting. The nervousness. Asking me to dinner. Perhaps this is what we owe each other. To meet. Find clarity. Maybe then, we can truly find out where each of us stands.
After a minute, I say, “Sounds good.”
I hear Tom sigh in relief. “I’m glad you said yes.”
Why, Tom? Why? Just when I thought I was starting to move on, you suck me right back in.
“Nick?” Tom asks when I don’t reply. “Are you still there?”
“I’m still here,” I say quietly.
“I’ll see you on Sunday, then? I’ll book a table in Dún Laoghaire, maybe Legend Dishes. You always loved that place.” Tom is probably scratching the back of his neck as he awaits my response.
I peel the sticky phone screen away from my face. “See you Sunday.”
“Bye, Nick.”
I hang up the phone and look for Ben. I find him at my desk, playing with a cube of colourful sticky notes. Instead of having my usual impassioned thoughts, when I see him, I only feel guilt. It pools in my stomach.
“I’m really sorry about that,” I say to Ben.
Ben stands up and comes to me. I find it hard to look him in the eye. “It’s alright.”
“Can I have a hug?” I boldly request. The office is empty, save for the two of us. You could almost hear a pin drop.
Ben opens his arms. “Of course you can.”