Chapter Thirty-One
Aurora
The concierge rings up to me. ‘I’ve got a Ben Cavendish downstairs. He says you’re not expecting him.’
My mouth falls open as I hold the receiver to my ear. I don’t even think I’m breathing. Suddenly I gasp air. That can’t be good, can it? That can’t be the reaction on hearing that Ben is in my building. That’s a terrible reaction. Not fear. Just … panic of some description.
‘Ms Miller?’
‘Um, can you send him up?’
‘Will do. He’s on his way.’
I stand on my side of the lift doors and wait as I hear the mechanisms roll somewhere in the shaft of the building.
Oh my God, what do I do now? But I could hardly turn him away when he was standing right there, next to the concierge.
Ben knows I’m here. And isn’t this what I wanted?
A reconciliation? Maybe it won’t be so bad.
The lift doors open and Ben doesn’t step out. He smiles – that devastating smile. His sunglasses are on and it’s like being catapulted back to day one, to the stairs in our halls of residence when he arrived in his leather jacket and easy manner and just blew me away.
‘Hi,’ he says when I don’t speak.
‘Hi,’ I reply, which is hard to do when I haven’t breathed for a few seconds. I look at him and take him in, and he does the same to me. Then the lift doors start to close and Ben darts out.
‘Shit,’ he says. ‘That wasn’t very smooth.’
I laugh because it’s funny, and because it’s Ben. He holds his arms out to me and automatically I move into a hug, which becomes a long hold. I don’t know how it happens, but I relax into him and he does the same, and for a moment it’s like it always was.
‘Ben,’ I say as we pull apart. Looking into his almond-shaped blue eyes is a killer and I need to move away.
I didn’t think this would happen. I didn’t think I’d be blown away yet again, on seeing him.
I thought I’d feel disappointment once more – the same as how I felt when I left, and when Ben didn’t want anything to do with me in the hospital – but I don’t and I hate myself.
‘Hi,’ he repeats with a sad smile.
‘Hi,’ I say again at a normal level, now that I can just about breathe.
His hand reaches out and he winds some of my hair around his fingers. He watches his own movement and it’s entrancing, this action. It’s intimate. Too intimate.
I gently take my hair from his fingers.
‘Fuck – sorry,’ he says.
‘It’s fine.’ It sort of is, even though it shouldn’t be.
‘I’ve missed you,’ he goes on.
‘I’ve missed you too.’ But I realise now that perhaps I haven’t. I haven’t missed Ben because of how it all went so downhill. But I missed what might have been, if it hadn’t. I miss the friendship we might have been able to forge.
‘Why are you here?’ I think what I really want to say is, ‘How are you here?’ and so I do.
He takes a deep breath. ‘I took Ollie’s planner from his bag when he was outside, trying to pump up his bike tyre. I knew he’d written your address in there.’
My eyebrows rise. ‘OK. At least you’re being honest.’
‘Yeah. I didn’t tell him I did it. And I didn’t do anything about it until today.’
‘When did you do this?’
‘Just after he saw you. I’ve been wondering for ages what I should do – if I should call you, message you. If I should stand outside and be passing by and happen to see you. Or if I should ring the bell and see what happened. This morning I got up and decided to go for it.’
I swallow, nerves dissipating now. I want to see to the end of all this.
I want to know how this pans out. I want to know what happens in the future: in a year’s time, a month’s time, next week, tomorrow, the next ten minutes, the next ten years.
I’m frustrated, now that Ben’s here, that I can’t tell which way this will go or how it will affect us both.
‘Do you want a coffee?’ I ask, trying to ignore my existential crisis and bring myself back to the present.
He shoves his hands in his jeans pockets, angles his chin down and looks at me from under his eyelashes. I wonder if he’s aware what every single movement he makes looks like to me. ‘Sure, I’d love that. Thanks for letting me in.’
‘Bit hard not to, really. You were standing next to the concierge when he was talking to me, I assume.’
‘I was. My heart in my throat, waiting to see if you were “in” or not.’
‘As if I’d have said no!’
‘It was touch-and-go, though, for a moment, wasn’t it?’ Ben says, seeing right through me.
As we’re being honest, I go with it. ‘Yeah. It was. I didn’t know what you were going to be like. I didn’t know what mood you were going to be in. I didn’t know whether you were coming to sling arrows at me or to be nice. I just didn’t know.’
‘Sling arrows?’ he half laughs. ‘You think I’m aggressive?’
‘No,’ I say, moving instinctively towards him. And then I remember myself, the situation we’re in, and I stop. ‘Never aggressive. But … complicated.’
He nods, taking that for what it is.
I go to the hot tap by the sink to splash boiling water into a mug with a peppermint teabag for me. For Ben, I flick on the super-duper coffee machine with far too many moving parts.
‘I can’t work out how to froth milk yet, so are you OK if I pour milk in at the end?’
He smiles. ‘Sure.’
I can feel Ben watching me while I work, and then his eyes drift around the wide open-plan space. I hear him whistle through his teeth. ‘This place is big.’
‘Mmm,’ I say distractedly, because I think I might be able to get the milk to froth if I concentrate on which combination of buttons to push.
No, I can’t do it. I give up and hand Ben his coffee and guide him towards the seating area.
The huge white modern squared-off sofas aren’t the comfiest and he shuffles a bit on one of them when he sits down next to me.
I hold my cup of tea as if it’s a shield. Outside, the London skyline is murky and grey.
Ben exhales long and deep. ‘I don’t know what to say, now I’m here.’
‘Why did you come?’ I ask.
‘I don’t know. I knew Ollie had come. I knew he’d seen you.’
‘He told you?’
‘Was it supposed to be a secret?’
‘No, of course not,’ I say. ‘He’s my friend. He’s a good listener.’
‘He is. I don’t know what I’d have done without him there. He saved me. Picked me up off the floor, literally and figuratively. He’s always been there when I need him, you know?’
I think of Ollie telling me what I needed to hear the night before I walked out, holding me, saying that whatever happened he’d be there for me. ‘Yeah. He is. He’s a good friend.’
‘He’s my best friend,’ Ben says, without hesitating. ‘I don’t have that many.’
‘What? Of course you do.’
‘I gather people,’ Ben says. ‘I collect people. But no one sticks around. They all leave in the end.’
Is he referring to me? ‘Oh,’ I say.
‘I’m starting counselling.’
My mouth drops. ‘Are you?’
‘There’s a lot to dig through. I think my parents have something to do with it.’
‘You think?’ It slips out of my mouth before I can stop myself.
He gives me a sideways smile. ‘Yeah, yeah, I know. Or, rather, I do now. But isn’t it always the parents?’
I think of my mum – strong, always there to point me in the right direction when I get it wrong. No. It’s not always the parents. But, for Ben, it might have been in some way.
‘But I’m an adult now and I need to look after myself and not rely on other people all the time.
I relied on our foursome at uni because I couldn’t really rely on my parents.
I created a family in place of one that was there in name only.
Me and my family, we looked like a family.
But it wasn’t that real. Whereas our foursome, we were real. ’
I nod, smile sadly, because we were. Until we weren’t.
‘What I’m trying to say is: I’m sorry. For how we were, how we ended, why we ended. And … I’m changing. I know I need to.’
My stomach tightens at this. That feeling of needing to see into the future returns.
‘I’m not asking you to take me back,’ Ben starts. ‘But I am asking you to be in my life.’
I try to say the word ‘Oh’, but it doesn’t come out, as a lump arrives in the back of my throat, forcing silent tears into my eyes. How can I say no to this, to him? I can’t. I just can’t.
I nod. ‘OK.’
He lets out a huge sigh of relief. ‘Thanks.’
‘You don’t have to thank me,’ I say. ‘I want to be friends. I’ve wanted it for ages.’
‘I’ve wanted it too,’ Ben says and puts his coffee down on the table in front of us. He turns towards me fully now. ‘I’m really sorry for the way I acted. For how I misbehaved.’
‘Misbehaved,’ I echo. ‘Like a child?’
‘I was a child. I still am. I’m trying not to be, though.’
My heart breaks a little for him now – for us, for everything we went through together and for everything he went through without me since I left. I have no idea what it entailed.
‘It was a wake-up call,’ he says as if reading my mind. ‘All of it was a wake-up call, and I’m sorry.’
‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry too.’
‘You don’t need to apologise.’ He looks embarrassed, shakes his head gently and stares towards the skyline as if he can’t meet my eyes. ‘I wish I hadn’t driven you away.’
I want to say, ‘Me too’, but I don’t. I just make a semi-there ‘Mmm’ sort of noise instead.
‘Maybe it was the push you needed,’ he volunteers.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Look at this place. Look at you: your career, your life, your success. That wouldn’t have happened if you’d been slumming it with me, trying to keep me on the straight-and-narrow.’
‘Well,’ I say non-committally. ‘You don’t know that’s what would have happened. But I suppose it’s turned out the way it has.’
Ben leans forward, picks up his coffee. Now it’s cooled, he drinks the rest of it in one go. There’s a part of me that’s expecting him to make a move and I’m not sure now if he will, or if I want that. I can’t tell. He’s disarming me just by being here. It’s confusing. All of it.
‘I should go,’ Ben says. And the confusion settles deeper within me. I don’t want him to go. Not now. He’s only just got here.
‘If I have a house-warming party, will you come?’ I ask. I have no idea where this idea came from. I want the four of us to get together and perhaps this is the best way – the most sane, low-pressured way. We can be among other people while we find out if this will still work.
‘I’d love that,’ Ben replies, his eyes gleaming. ‘Message me? Let me know when?’
‘I will,’ I tell him.
‘What are you doing for the rest of the day?’
‘I have to go and pack. I’m in Scotland tomorrow for a shoot.’
‘Swimwear again?’ Ben asks.
‘Equestrian-wear. I have to get on a horse. What are you doing for the rest of the day?’
‘Confessing to Ollie where I’ve been and admitting how I got your address.’
‘You could have told him earlier, you know.’
‘I thought about that. But then he’d have warned you,’ Ben admits.
‘And you wanted the element of surprise?’ I test.
He laughs. ‘Something like that. I’m pleased we did this.’
‘Me too,’ I reply as Ben rises first.
I follow him to the lift doors and he pushes the button. ‘I’m really proud of you,’ he says while we wait. ‘Is it stalky to say I’ve seen your ads, watched your social media?’
‘Yes, it is very stalky.’
‘What I mean is: I watched with pride. From the sidelines. I was just happy to see how well you’re doing.
Ollie told me he saw you on an ad at Leicester Square Tube and I went along to have a look.
Is that a bit sad? I was excited for you.
And for me – for knowing you, for having once been your boyfriend.
I’d have been devastated if it had been the other way, if it hadn’t worked out for you. ’
I’m stunned at everything he’s admitted. ‘Would you?’ I ask genuinely as Ben comes in for a goodbye hug.
The lift doors open and he breaks free, steps inside.
‘Yes,’ he replies. ‘It made me feel like it was worth it.’
‘What do you mean?’ I ask in confusion.
‘You breaking up with me. It felt like the pain I was feeling … was sort of worth it.’
I take a surprised breath, and whatever pain he was feeling transfers into me, shoots through my entire nervous system. ‘Oh, Ben,’ I say sadly, but it’s too late as the lift doors close and he disappears out of sight.