Chapter 19
I hit a major milestone after my shift at Strange Brew the next day: On my way home, I stop by the post office to send off the roll of film from the memory box to be developed, and I don’t have to look up directions once.
I’m so happy, I don’t even mind that a gust of wind along Salem Street sends my bangs shooting out sideways, or that “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!” is blaring in the stairwell as I pass the second floor on my way to my apartment.
As soon as I walk through my door, I strip off my jeans and wool sweater and promptly get in my pajamas. Then I head to the kitchen.
It’s only five p.m., so I start making myself a plate of cheese and grapes as a pre-dinner snack when my phone pings with a text. I dig it out of my tote bag and flip it open.
SARA
Can’t wait to see my favorite people!
I don’t realize Garrett and Matt are also on the thread until my phone pings again with another message. Then another.
GARRETT
Sounds good! Matt, you have the address, right?
MATT
Yup all set
SARA
Marnie, do you still need a ride??
Annoyance flares in my chest. I know what she’s trying to do. No doubt Matt does, too. It’s the world’s least subtle setup.
But then the annoyance is swallowed up by guilt. None of this is different from how she orchestrated our relationship before, when I was all too eager to have my own someone so I didn’t lose her to Garrett. If anything, it shows just how much she wants us to be happy.
Happy. The word echoes in my head. When was the last time Matt and I were happy?
It shouldn’t be hard to remember, and maybe if my brain weren’t so broken, or if I could recall anything from the past year, it wouldn’t be.
But right now it’s an effort. I’m wading through a bog of moments that were just fine or okay, trying to find something so elusive that I wonder if it existed at all.
There were plenty of times we had fun, like when we joined Sara and Garrett on vacation in Colorado, or when the four of us did that spontaneous road trip to Vegas. It feels like I should have been happy then. At the time, I thought I was.
You can’t fake happiness. Ben’s voice rolls through my head.
Another image pops into my head as I slice a piece of cheddar.
Ben walking by my side through Haymarket, listening intently as I describe the perfect pear.
Ben sitting beside me through To Catch a Thief, so close I can smell the sawdust from his coat, the sandalwood cologne on his skin.
There are dozens of moments waiting for my attention, a long list of evidence that points to just one thing: I’ve been happy in Boston, because I’ve been happy with Ben.
And somewhere along the way, I started falling for him, too.
But what do I do about it? Tell him how I feel? Or will I just be setting myself up to get my heart broken? Is it better to stay where we are, this undefined place that feels like friendship but also so much more, or—
I pause halfway through that thought as something moves in the periphery.
Something small and fast and furry.
I turn just in time to see a mouse dart across the floor toward my bedroom.
What do I do, what do I do, what do I do?
I drop the cheese onto the counter and hold up the butter knife in defense. Then I tiptoe over to the front door, ready to open it, because that feels like the most rational thing to do right now. Maybe if he sees the available exit, he’ll rethink his current course and make a clean getaway.
“I’m going to open the front door, okay?” I call out. “I won’t hurt you; I just need you to leave. Please?”
I pause, listening. Waiting.
Suddenly I hear Ben’s door opening across the hall. My heart does an odd tumble at the jingle of his keys, his gravelly chuckle, but then another voice pipes in.
“… said she would meet us after, but still!” a male voice that is definitely not Ben’s argues.
I want to keep eavesdropping, but suddenly there’s scurrying behind me, like very small claws on very small paws running across my hardwood floor.
I scream and throw open my door.
Ben is in the middle of locking his dead bolt, his eyes wide as I almost fall into him. He looks so concerned I almost don’t notice the man beside him until he blurts out, “Holy shit!”
“Sorry!” I gasp, still holding the butter knife in my hand. “I’m so sorry.”
The man lets out a long breath while Ben’s attention stays squarely on me. Despite the adrenaline coursing through my bloodstream, my pulse trips at the way his brows make a hard line over his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
I use the knife to motion back to my deceptively empty apartment. “He’s back. He’s in there right now.”
The man beside Ben looks between us, concerned. He’s wearing a Red Sox cap, but I can still see his curly black hair poking out the sides. “Wait, what’s going on?”
Ben ignores him. “Where?”
“He ran into my bedroom.” I have no idea why I’m whispering. “I mean, I think he’s in the bedroom. He just moves so fast. Why does he run so fast?”
The man beside Ben narrows his eyes on me. “Is this a roommate?”
“It’s a mouse,” Ben says to him flatly. Then he turns back to me. “Do you want me to grab a few traps?”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to kill him! I just want him to move out!”
“And we’re sure this is a mouse,” the man says.
“Shut up, Pete.” Ben shakes his head.
“Hi.” The man nods to me. “I’m Pete.”
“Marnie, this is my brother-in-law, Pete,” Ben says, already looking exasperated. “Pete, this is Marnie.”
Before I can reply with my requisite “It’s nice to meet you,” Pete’s eyes light up, like he’s connected two disparate dots in his head.
“Wait, Marnie the neighbor?” he asks, a smile pulling his lips up as he turns back to Ben.
Ben frowns, throwing his brother-in-law a look that immediately shuts him up but doesn’t dislodge his smug grin.
Under normal circumstances, I would only be too eager to overanalyze why Ben would have mentioned me to anyone, let alone a member of his family, but these are not normal circumstances. Something that could be carrying the plague is in my apartment right now, and I have no idea where.
“What if he can climb?” I ask.
“Hold up,” Pete says, holding his hands up. “Can mice do that?”
Ben sighs. “I don’t know. Probably.”
Pete turns to me, looking almost as horrified as I am. “What if he’s in your bed?”
I feel the color drain from my face.
Ben looks between us and sighs. “Jesus. Hold on.”
He brushes past me into the apartment. Pete and I crane our heads to see past the open door, even utilizing the crack between the hinges to see what he’s doing, but only catch the sound of the kitchen cabinets opening and closing, a gruff curse.
A few minutes later, he reappears, wiping his hands against his jeans.
“I think it’s gone,” he says. “Did Gino figure out where they were getting in? I don’t see any holes around your radiator, but maybe behind the stove—”
“They can get in from behind the stove?” Pete laments to himself.
“How is Gino supposed to move the stove to look?” I ask. “He’s so old!”
Ben doesn’t seem to be listening to either of us as he works something out in his head. It’s causing the line between his eyebrows to deepen, a muscle in his jaw to tick. I can see it even under the thick stubble.
“All right, I’ll go grab some traps—”
“No traps!” I interject.
He continues undeterred. “And we can lay them around every place where you’ve seen it so—”
“I already told you I don’t want traps,” I say, trying not to sound indignant.
“And I already told you to call me and I would take care of it.”
“By killing a small, innocent animal?” I ask, motioning back toward the apartment with my knife again.
Pete looks momentarily confused, while Ben just looks exasperated.
“What’s the plan, then?” he asks.
I don’t have a plan. I’ve barely come to terms with the fact that the mouse is back and possibly burrowing under my duvet.
“I’ll just… keep my door open for a couple of hours. I’m sure he’ll run out at some point, right? It’s not like he wants to live in my apartment. He’s probably lost. So I’ll just wait for him to leave.”
In my head, this sounds completely rational. But judging by Ben’s and Pete’s expressions, I am insane.
“You’re going to sit at home, alone, with the front door open all night,” Ben says. Hearing him repeat my plan makes me realize they’re probably right.
“Do you have another option?” I ask.
“Come out with us,” he says, like it’s the most obvious solution in the world.
“Oh, that’s right!” Pete agrees, his expression lighting up as he turns back to me. “The Red Sox are playing the Kansas City Royals tonight. Lauren has to work late, so we have an extra ticket.”
“Oh, no. I couldn’t do that,” I say, scoffing.
“Why not?” Ben asks.
I blink, trying to come up with an answer. The way he says it makes it sound so simple, as if the choice is obvious. But this is untrodden territory. We’ve never left this building together without the guise of my list as an excuse.
“What’s it going to be, Marnie?” Pete asks after a moment. “Baseball or rodents?”
I sigh. “Well, when you phrase it like that, is it even a choice?”
“Depends,” he says and smiles. “Are you a Yankees fan?”