Page 43 of Forget About Me

“It sounds very cool. I can’t wait to read it.”

“They took a lot of pictures too. Probably they’ll just use ones of Ben and the dog because the dog’s adorable and Ben, you know, because he’s famous.”

Elbow on the back of the couch, head resting on a hand, she asks, “And how is Ben?”

I sit up and pretend that I suddenly need to take off my shoes. “He’s okay, I guess. He’s more… subdued.”

She gives me an assessing look before leaning back into the cushions again. “He was always a good boy, a sweet boy. We should invite him for dinner. Maybe I’ll even cook.”

A short laugh barks out of me.

She slaps a hand my way. “Hey, I still cook.”

“I’m not laughing at that. It’s Ben. He eats this horrible diet now. Macro-bio-something. He cooked me dinner, and it was terrible. It’s no wonder he doesn’t have an ounce of fat on him.”

A sly smile takes over my mom’s face. “And how do you know that?”

Heat creeps up my neck to my cheeks, but my voice rises above it. “I’ve seen the pictures. They’re, like, everywhere.”

My mom nods slowly. “Mm-hm. Well, still, I’d like to invite him over, even if he won’t eat my cooking.”

“Maybe he could starve himself for a day or two first.” I twist a chunk of hair that’s escaped from my scrunchie. “I’m glad you want to. I was worried that you’d be… upset that I was spending time with him.”

“Why?”

I shrug. “Because of Tony.”

My mom props her forearms behind her head and stares at the ceiling. “Some days, every little thing reminds me of Tony and I get overwhelmed with missing him. Other days, I’m just glad I had him as long as I did. No one can take that away from me.” She reaches out and puts a warm hand on my knee. “But we all have to keep living. I know Tony would’ve wanted you to be happy. And Ben. He loved you both.”

Her gaze is still off somewhere, and I’m not sure what’s behind her words. Is it possible she knows that Ben and I were more than friends that summer? We were pretty careful, but like I said, she’s the kind of mom who knows what’s going on.

“I love you, Luciana Maria.” She squeezes my knee, then releases it. “And I think we both need to get some sleep.”

I swallow a surprise tide of tears. “I love you too, Mama.”

She lurches to her feet with a groan and holds out a hand. “Come on, baby girl.”

I let her haul me up to standing and hold her hand all the way up the stairs. When we part, she kisses my damp cheek and then wipes it with her thumb. “Good night, Lucy.”

“Good night, Mama.”

All the way through getting ready for bed, her words echo in my head.Tony would’ve wanted you to be happy.By the time I’ve crawled under my covers, my body’s doing a pretty good job of imagining what short-term happiness would look like—me, naked, in bed with Ben. Or anywhere. It wouldn’t have to be a bed. His couch and counters and even the van all served in the past.

However, that brand of happiness has proven fleeting and dangerous. I’ve got to find something to make me happy that I can control, which probably means it should have nothing to do with Ben Porter.

The substitute priest said I should use my gifts. Not sure what God thinks about dog trainers, but I don’t think it’s prideful to admit that I’m good at working with animals. Not sure whether it’s a career, but maybe if I keep my eyes and heart open, it might bring joy not only to me but to some pet owners as well.

Once I’m under the covers, though, I keep going over and over all the reasons why I should or shouldn’t sleep with Ben again. When I finally manage to mentally shove the list into a drawer chock-full of guilt and I’m about to drift off to sleep, a memory wiggles its way out of the folds of my brain.

Lying next to Ben on a lazy Saturday afternoon is heaven. But I’m greedy. I want to be able to be next to him outside of this room, too. “What if we just told everybody we’re dating?”

“By everybody, you mean…?”

I snuggle further into his side, needing to be as close as possible. “Everybody. My family. My friends. Your dad. I mean, why can’t we just date?”

Ben slides his arm out from under me and sits up, looking across the room. The inches between us feel like a chasm.

Pulling up the sheet to cover my nakedness, I ask, “Would you be embarrassed to be seen with me?”

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