Maggie - The aftermath
The week following the “incident”– what I referred to the day of my hostage situation– I tried like hell to visit Ben in the hospital.
I showed up in the waiting room every single day, but no one ever let me through to see him because apparently his paperwork didn’t allow for a single visitor– just more evidence of his fear of attachments. The dude had been self-isolating his whole life and I wanted to slap it out of him, but I couldn’t even see him to do it.
The only other person who showed up and tried to see him was Penny. I wondered how she found out he was even in the hospital, but I never asked, because each visit ended in me crying, throwing a fit, and then being escorted out of the building.
The trial day came and went.
If I was being honest with myself, I only braved showing up because of the slight chance that maybe Ben would also be present in the courtroom.
He wasn’t.
Coleson stayed with me the whole time, and his presence did make me feel safer. But I felt Ben’s absence on that day, and in almost every part of my life.
I wasn’t privy to the information regarding the fall of the organization, but after a few weeks, my security was lightened, and then there was no one accompanying me to school anymore.
I knew it was truly over when Coleson told me it was time for me to move.
I suddenly didn’t want to leave. Because this apartment still had traces of Ben… Moving would delete him entirely from my life. It’d be like he was never here, like we never even happened.
It was actually starting to make me feel a little crazy.
Coleson helped me find a new apartment in the same building. It was smaller and a few floors down, but it still had beautiful bay windows that let in amazing lighting for painting.
The new place was way nicer than what I could probably afford, but he kept telling me he found a good deal for me. I kind of doubted it and figured there was some hacking done on his end, but I didn’t want to question it.
“Anything else I can do for ya?” he asked after helping me move all my stuff.
“Actually?” My hands went to my hips.
He ran his hand over his hair and grimaced. “I still can’t tell you anything about Ben, I'm sorry.”
“No,” I sighed. “I am still pissed at you about that though.” I shot him a look. “But I was actually going to ask you to help me find Hunter and Archie?” Both of their faces from that day flashed in my mind. “No one will let me see them or talk to them. I need to make sure they’re alright. Hunter… he wasn’t doing well the last time I saw him.” The way he cried over not knowing what to do that day was burned into my brain. He was a good kid who did not deserve to be shoved into that position. “He doesn't deserve to be ripped from school. Neither of them do. Their friends miss them.”
He regarded me with a quizzical look. “Sounds like you miss them.”
“I do,” I said without hesitation.
He gave a sharp nod. “I’ll see what I can do.” He squeezed my shoulder as he left me alone in the apartment.
_______
Through the next couple weeks, I felt like I was just going through the motions. I wasn’t sad anymore, but I wasn't happy either. I was just… empty. Nothing really impacted my day or made me feel anything at all.
“Are you depressed, Ms. Quinn?” Taylor asked one morning.
“No, why?” I responded with wide eyes.
“We think you are,” she said with a sad smile.
My heart sank. Was I letting my emotions affect my teaching? Was I letting them down? “I’m so sorry guys, I really am, I promise–”
“It’s because Benny is gone, isn’t it? And your spark is gone too,” Abby said sadly. Her eyes darted ever so slightly to Hunter’s desk.
“Don’t let him do that to you, don’t give him that power,” Fiona announced. “You haven’t even painted since he’s been gone.”
What? That couldn’t be true…
“It’s true, not even for demonstrations,” Laurel said quietly.
Tears pricked the back of my eyes. These kids were way too perceptive. “You guys are right.”
“He’s just a guy,” Fiona said with a shrug.
“Yeah, just a guy,” I repeated lamely.
“He was really cute though,” Abby added with a grimace, which earned her a glare from the other girls. “What? He was!” she said innocently.
I plopped down on my chair and slumped forward on my elbows. “He really was, wasn’t he?”
Now it was Taylor’s turn to grimace. “And he liked you.”
“You think?” I asked, feeling pathetic.
“Yeah, we all talked about you guys getting married.”
Ugh. I so wanted to marry him one day . God, I was delusional.
“You know what you need?” Fiona pursed her lips. “Change. Big change. That’s the cure for heartbreak.”
I looked at her curiously.
“Did you know that hair holds trauma? You should go for a big chop.”
“You think…?” I looked around at the other girls.
“I think you should decide,” Abby said. “Make your own decisions, Ms. Q, it’s liberating.”
I thought about that for a moment. While the kids didn’t know my every move was monitored over the last couple months, they must’ve sensed the heightened security. I didn’t have control of my life at all in a way. Maybe I did need to do something drastic to prove to myself that I was on my own now and in charge of making my own decisions.
“That’s really insightful,” I told Fiona.
“I learned it from Tiktok,” she said with a nonchalant shrug, but from the way her cheeks heated, I could tell she appreciated the compliment.
“Maybe I will do something,” I said, tapping my pen against my desk.
Taylor’s eyes lit up. “I have an idea! You—“
“No, don’t cut your hair!” Johnny thundered from the doorway of my room. I wondered how long he’d been standing there. “It’s one of your best features!” He had become a regular visitor to my first hour class, always hoping to see his best friend.
“Shut up, Johnny!”
“Hair grows back.”
“She needs change!”
“Mind your own business.”
I laughed at the girls’ protests. “Shouldn’t you get back to class?” I asked Johnny.
“I guess so,” he moped. “Still no word, eh?” he asked me quietly.
My heart squeezed in my chest. “Don’t worry, we’ll find him, I'm still looking.”
I turned back to the girls, who were now arguing that I should get a nose piercing. “Alright,” I clapped my hands together, “I think we need to get back to work.” I stared at a blank canvas at the corner of the room. “Me included,” I added.
As I settled in front of the canvas and decided on a few colors, I realized the kids were right. Ben was just a guy. And I had my own life to live.
And… If I drowned in self-pity, wasn’t I just proving Ben right? That romantic love was dangerous? That it destroyed people?
I didn’t want to be sad anymore– it was clearly affecting my work. And I didn’t want to regret him anymore– because that wouldn’t be true. I didn’t regret getting to know him, becoming friends, and then becoming more… Because he gave me something– I felt chemistry . I felt passion . I had good spice in my life for the first time. So, no, I didn’t regret it.
But I did need to start picking myself up and moving on.
I wasn’t sure if I should be taking the advice of high schoolers, but I’d been in such a fog for weeks, feeling so unbalanced after everything, and I was desperate for something to get me out of this funk.
So, I did go to the hair salon that afternoon.