Chapter 14
ANSON
Ihadn’t seen him in three days. We’d continued to work on Project Orthos, sharing documents on the secure server and emailing back and forth, but there were no more texts, not even the GIFs he seemed to favor, and no more visits to the lab from Benji.
And it had only been three days.
I knew I should have been looking forward to seeing my old friend as the car dropped me off at Beantown Prime, but all I could think about was seeing his son.
I used all the social skills I had trained myself on over the years to pull my focus from Benji and welcome my childhood friend, trying to continue a conversation that had felt awkward, even to me, when I’d first entered the restaurant.
“Ben Warren. It is good to see you after all this time.”
“It’s good to see you too,” he repeated formally. “I’d ask you how you’ve been, but, like, I have the internet.” We all laughed, easing the tension a fraction. “Thank you, man, for …” Ben gently waved the glass he was holding around the room.
My gaze turned to Benji, always to Benji. “It is absolutely my pleasure. I’m so … pleased to have met your son and to have scooped him up before any of my competitors could.” I raised my glass in Benji’s direction.
Before I could offer a toast, Ben raised his glass high in the air and began, “To the future Dr. Benjamin Warren. MIT graduate and New Day Tech’s newest research assistant.
“Dr. Warren,” Ben said again, more softly. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.” Ben’s eyes got misty as he raised his glass even higher. “To Benji.”
“To Benji,” I echoed, turning to see him blushing an effervescent pink, the sunset behind him surrounding his frame as it reflected off the water. Benji’s gaze shot from his father to me and back to his father as Ben wiped a tear from his eye.
Benji looked down and muttered, “Thank you,” before taking a sip of champagne. Ben and I followed, though Ben’s sip managed to empty his glass.
All I wanted to do was to take a step closer to Benji, but I knew that wasn’t right, so I used my forward motion to pick up the bottle and refill Ben’s glass.
“Please, sit. Our crab dip should be here soon, but there are other great appetizers.” I made a point of opening my menu as I sat and pushing Ben’s closer to him as he took his seat.
I wasn’t looking directly at Benji, but I could sense his hesitancy as he remained near the window for a beat before walking toward us to sit next to his father, directly across from me.
Both men took to exploring the menu, but I had been to this restaurant enough to know what I wanted. It was a favorite of Beck’s and had been witness to more than a few New Day Tech business meetings.
“I was very sorry to hear about your wife, Ben. You married a local girl, is that right?”
Ben sighed as he nodded in confirmation.
“Yeah.” Ben’s voice was wispy and wet, as were his eyes.
“Ashley Andersen. You might remember her. She was in our grade. We went to high school together after you moved away. I think she came to the creek with us a couple of times when you lived there? Huh. I’d forgotten about that.
” Ben was looking at me, but it was clear he was picturing a scene from long ago.
“Yeah,” Ben continued. “We definitely hung out together in middle school. Thanks, Ani. Thank you for reminding me of that.” Ben looked at me softly, and I nodded in return, not sure how to respond.
Benji looked up from his menu, and I could sense his head moving between us. I struggled but kept my focus on my old friend, despite the pull I felt toward his son.
Ben let out a soft chuckle that managed to be half bitter and half fond.
“The football captain and the cheerleader. God, we were such a cliche! I think there’s still a shelf in the awards cabinet at the high school dedicated to our senior year.
You were long gone before Ash ever gave me the time of day again, Anson. Not for lack of trying on my part!”
I let my eyes find Benji’s.
“Your mother was always very kind to me when we were kids, Benji. Not everybody in that town was, but both of your parents … even when we were young, both of your parents looked out for me. It says a lot about them, I think. You should be very proud.”
Benji’s eyes softened as he looked at me. He opened his mouth as if to respond, but Ben jumped in before him.
“That’s really nice of you to say, Anson,” Ben acknowledged, his tone steady.
He grasped his son’s shoulder. “God, Benji. Your mom …. She’d be as overwhelmed as I am.
A construction worker and an office manager, and their kid’s getting his doctorate from MIT.
Hell, we didn’t even know about MIT when you were born.
At least I don’t think she did. I sure as shit didn’t.
I know she’s looking down, kid, and bursting with pride, like I am. ”
He looked at me for the next part. “Ash was very protective of Benji. She remembered, I think, how hard it could be for the smartest kid in school. She never wanted to see Benji taken advantage of or hurt in any way.” Ben’s eyes were intense. Was he trying to tell me something?
I think Benji sensed the tension because he jumped in. “Of course, she didn’t, Dad. What parent wants to see their kid hurt? But that’s all part of growing up, right? I mean, I hated being bullied, but I can genuinely say it helped me learn how to protect myself as I got older.”
Ben just grunted, still looking at me.
“No one takes advantage of me like that anymore, Dad.” Benji sounded emphatic.
We were silent for a minute, then Benji mimicked his father’s move, placing a hand on his shoulder until he faced him.
“I know Mom’s proud of me. Proud of everything I’ve accomplished. I’m pretty proud of it myself. She …”
Benji’s eyes misted over, and his voice cracked.
I caught it briefly before he dropped his head to his menu.
My hand began to move before I could stop it, but I did stop it before it covered his.
My body screamed with the need to let him know I understood what he must be feeling, and that I wanted to be the one to comfort him.
Needing to communicate with him, I slowly slid my foot under the table, gently tapping his before retreating.
His head shot up, causing his father to look between us. An uncomfortable silence fell over the table, but it wasn’t a sad blanket draping us due to talk of Ashley anymore. Ben’s energy had reverted, and he scrutinized me and then his son in turn. I felt like I’d been caught.
That social training I’d studied and been coached on by Beck reminded me that talking about the menu was a great way to steer a conversation. I hoped it would provide a diversion after Ben narrowed his eyes across the table at me. I dropped my head quickly to the heavy book in my hand.
“Chef Drew does amazing things with potatoes. And the steak here is superb. But I know you’re a fan of Italian, Benji, so don’t rule out the ravioli. I’ve had that here before too.”
“Italian?” Ben asked.
Benji shrugged and spoke animatedly, seemingly unaware of the tension his father appeared to exude.
“Oh, yeah!” he enthused, placing his own menu on the table so he could wave his hands in front of him as he spoke.
Benji had animatedly used his hands during our first meeting, but he’d not done that in front of me again until after our first few afternoons together.
I had noted it, and it had led me to believe that Benji had dropped any pretense and was feeling more comfortable around me. It had felt important at the time.
At the restaurant, however, the more relaxed and animated he became, the more tense it made me. I’d missed him over the few short days we’d been apart.
He was relaxed and truly himself as his face lit up, and his hands punctuated his words.
I found myself smiling goofily at him as my heart raced, his words from the other day echoing in my mind on repeat as they’d done for the majority of the past few days: You're my boss and I'm your employee. I think we have to leave it at that.
But did he want to “leave it at that” because he didn’t want me or because of all the external factors that would fight to keep us apart? The way Ben was staring at me reminded me that my old childhood friend was likely one of those factors.
“There’s this great Italian dive near my apartment, Dad.
Students go there for the cheap pizza, but they have a full menu.
I go there a lot. Lucia, the owner, is holding a table for us for after graduation.
Her tomato sauce is amazing. The pizza’s great but so is the spaghetti and the baked ziti.
And, oh my God, Dad, have you ever had cannoli?
” He paused, but Ben didn’t answer, looking in wonder at his child.
Benji shrugged and lowered his energy. “So yeah, I discovered I like Italian food since moving to Boston.”
“Huh,” Ben responded, but I’d taken up the conversation, talking over him to contribute.
“Oh, it's not just pasta and cannoli. I’ve never seen someone inhale a slice of pizza like Benji can!”
“Hey! That’s not fair. We only ever get pizza delivery when we’ve forgotten to stop working long enough for dinner, and we’re starving! So of course, I inhale it! The real wonder is how you can take your time with that first slice.”