15. Elle
elle
. . .
I t’s been twenty-one days since Ben’s surgery, not that I’m counting or anything. The physical parts of Ben have healed, but the emotional scars, I fear will be there forever. At night, I often hear him crying in the shower, when he thinks no one can hear him. I want to comfort him, but I don’t know how. I don’t know what it’s like to lose a part of you in the way he has. Since his surgery, he’s gone to therapy, and the therapist suggested testicular prosthesis as it could help with Ben’s psychological fears of inadequacy. Of course, when he’s confiding in me about this, his brother overhears and thinks it’s some sort of joke, and teases Ben about getting fake balls. I hate Brad. He makes me angry to the point of tears, but I can’t do anything about it. He's here and, besides their mom, he’s Ben’s only family. As much as I want to tell him and Brenda to pound sand and get the hell out, I don’t. Deep down, I think they mean well, they just don’t know how to show it because they’ve never been a close family.
In the past three weeks, I’ve been back at work, trying to get Sinful Distraction’s marketing plan done for their new single, getting Talking Til Dawn into the studio, and having daily video conference calls with my dad and Plum. Plum is having the time of their lives, and their tour has been extended by two more weeks. Thankfully, my dad isn’t complaining, and Plum isn’t either. I’ve shared their numbers with them, and their song is slowly creeping to the top of the charts. Still, I feel like I owe it to them to be the best manager possible, but I don’t want to leave Ben. I guess I finally understand what Maverick meant when he said he wasn’t leaving his wingman even though the prize was right in front of him. Except, Ben’s my prize.
Our friendship is back on track. We still share a bed, but we did this while being friends. Each morning, I wake up on his chest, which was something we didn’t do as friends, but he doesn’t seem to mind. I suppose after today, our sleeping habits will have to adjust. I’ve read every possible article I can find about chemotherapy and radiation, and the side effects. Ben’s going to be tired, he’s going to bruise easily, he’s going to be sick, and he’s going to lose his hair. I haven’t broached the subject about his hair with him, but I know he’s concerned. Honestly, I fully expect the guys to band together and have a shave party. I can see my brother and Noah organizing something like this, and I think Brad would do it as well. He keeps his hair pretty short to begin with.
I leave the office and head toward the house in Malibu. I needed some time to myself this morning, and work is my escape. It’s the one place where no one judges me for wanting to work. Last week, I opened my laptop in the kitchen while Ben cooked—it was his idea, not mine—because I wanted his opinion on a couple of bands, and Brenda lost her shit, going on and on about how her boy is sick and all I care about are the demos in my inbox. I don’t know what she expects me to do. Yes, he has cancer, but we were in this limbo stage between surgery and chemo. He had to heal. And he needs to feel human again. If making dinner and talking about music makes him feel like himself again, I want to encourage him.
By the time I arrive home, my somewhat good mood is in the dumps. Living in this house is awkward and uncomfortable, with Brenda hovering and Brad milking us dry. The only reprieve I get is at night, when it’s just Ben and me, in our room. Often, we lie on our sides and just look at each other, letting our souls do all the talking. He’s hurting and I hurt for him.
Inside, Brad’s on the couch, thankfully with clothes on, and playing a video game. I swear, someday he’s going to find the console missing. He doesn’t say anything when I walk past, which is shocking because it’s usually shit like, “the bathroom is out of toilet paper” or “there aren’t any dishes.” I’m a convenience to him because if I’m here, he knows Ben will be taken care of, which in turn, takes care of Brad.
I look all over the house for Ben but can’t find him. I’m frustrated because he didn’t text me that he was leaving and now I have to ask his brother where he went. “Do you know where Ben is?”
Brad never takes his eyes off the television and mutters, “Beach.”
Perfect, the same place I go to when I need peace and quiet. I head outside and toward the beach. As soon as my feet touch the sand, I slip my shoes off and trudge toward the shore. Surfers and swimmers clutter the water, while umbrellas, blankets, towels, and those popular sun tents take up most of the sandy beach space.
It takes me a few minutes, but I find Ben, sitting in the sand with his ankle strap still secured and his board next to him. I sit down and pull my knees to my chest. “Did you surf?”
“Thought about it.”
I don’t bother telling him he’s not supposed to do any strenuous activities for another three weeks, and he has to be cleared by the urologist first. He doesn’t need a lecture. He needs a friend. “Water looks choppy.”
“I figured today would be my last day to surf.”
“The surgeon will clear you in three weeks. You’ll be good to go.”
“I’ll be sick.”
“I know.” I sigh. Ben knows the chemo and radiation are going to wreck his body. He’s going to be weak, tired, and unwilling to eat because everything will taste gross or not have any flavor at all.
He’s going to be sick. He’s going to puke his guts out, and then puke some more. He’s going to bruise easily, need blood transfusions, and we have to monitor who is around him. If they’re sick, they can’t come near him. Brad and Brenda don’t know this, but while we’re at chemo today, I have a service coming in and cleaning the house from top to bottom. There will be new rules in place, and if they don’t like them . . . well I won’t be sad to see them leave. Unfortunately, Brenda’s current lack of a job and housing puts me in a tough spot, and I’d have to put her up somewhere, but Brad can go back to his place, and his garage. He has a viable job and a garage to run. I understand his brother is going through a life-changing event, but his moody outlook isn’t needed. Ben needs to be surrounded by light and positivity. I want him to see the future and feel like he has more than a fighting chance. Brad parked on our couch isn’t doing Ben any favors.
“I guess it’s time to go, huh?”
“Yeah,” I say, sadly. I don’t want him to have to go through this any more than he wants to. Ben stands and reaches for my hand to help me up, and then his board. I expect him to let go of me, but he doesn’t. Together, we walk back to the house, and I wait for him while he stores his board on the rack. “Do you want to take a shower before we go?”
He shakes his head. “The smell of sun and sand comforts me.”
“Me too,” I tell him.
On the drive over, we listen to the radio. Plum’s song, “Last Day,” comes on and I can’t help but smile and turn the volume dial up. My head starts bobbing while my finger taps the steering wheel. When it’s over, my smile turns into the biggest grin possible when the DJ talks about the girls and how they’re the next big thing.
“Is that your new band?” Ben asks.
“One of them, yes. They call themselves Plum. I wasn’t sold on the name at first, but it’s grown on me and now I love it.”
“That was a really great song.”
“Justine wrote it. I have an acoustic version up on the streaming sites. She’s a brilliant songwriter. Quinn really enjoys working with her, as well as Wynonna and Priscilla, who are sisters.”
“I’d say they have to be with names like that.”
“What do you do for them?” Brad asks.
“As their manager, I make sure they’re in the studio and working with the best producers. I manage their day-to-day. I fight for them when it comes to the labels. I get them the airtime I think they deserve. Set up tours. That sort of thing.”
“So, you boss them around and take their money.”
I glance in my rearview mirror and throw daggers at Brad. Unfortunately, he’s looking out the window and doesn’t see me.
“Brad, cut the shit,” Ben says. “Seriously, just fucking stop.”
“It’s okay, Ben,” I say quietly.
“No, it’s not,” he fires back.
“I’m just trying to figure out what she does,” Brad says in lame defense of his comment.
“What she does is protect artists from fucking vultures. Kind of like shitty mechanics taking advantage of their customers.”
“Fuck you,” Brad spits out.
Ben shakes his head. I rest my hand on his leg and give it a squeeze. I wish he’d tell his brother to leave. I know it’s unfair of me to feel this way because Ben needs his family around him, but I can’t help it.
“You boys need to stop,” Brenda says. It’s the wisest thing she’s said since I’ve known her.
I pull into the private entrance of the hospital and give the guard my name. After we park, we head to the cancer wing and Ben checks in. Within seconds, a nurse comes out to get him. He clutches my hand when his name’s called.
“Hi Ben, I’m Hope and I’m going to be your nurse today.”
Brad scoffs and I give him a pointed look. “Nice to meet you. This is my . . .” Ben looks at me and I smile. I don’t care what he calls me at this point, and while I prefer he call me his fiancé, I’m not going to force him. “My Elle,” he finally says, which makes my heart soar. “My mom, Brenda, and the jerk over there is my brother, Brad. Feel free to ban him if he gets on your nerves.”
Hope laughs and tells Ben to follow her. I pull him into my arms and tell him I’ll be right here when he’s done. He lingers for a moment and finally follows Hope behind the double doors. Once he’s out of sight, I turn to Brenda and Brad. I open my mouth to say something, but then think better of it. I don’t want to fight with them, especially not here. More so, because I don’t want either of them to say stupid shit to Ben. He has enough to deal with.
I sit down and pull my laptop out. I’m not leaving the lounge until Ben’s ready to go home. I want to be inside with him, holding his hand and keeping him company, but all the money in the world can’t circumvent some policies. It’s dangerous for anyone to be in there, not receiving treatment. The drugs they’re pumping into patients are harmful, even more so to the people who aren’t battling cancer. I have to remember this is where we have to be in order for Ben to get better.