Page 83 of Forget About Me

“I missed you too. Whatever happens with me and Lucy or work, I’ll be back more.”

“Good, good.” He knocks on the table lightly, picks up his drink and checks the clock. “What d’you say we watch the end of SportsCenter? See what foolishness the Patriots are up to.”

“Sounds good, Dad.”

I make it through Monday by taking the longest run of my life, lifting weights till my muscles scream louder than the mocking voices in my head, and then passing out on the couch. Now it’s Tuesday, I have another empty day in front of me and this apartment is too damn quiet.

Then I have an idea.

I have to wait until it’s a reasonable time to call, so I go for another run. Not quite so far this time. When I get back, I dial Will’s number.

His roommate Pam answers. “Yello.”

“Hey, Pam. This is Ben.”

“Oh my god, I heard about Puck. That totally sucks.”

“Yeah. It does. Listen, is Will around? I need some help with—this is kind of embarrassing—but I need to make a mixtape for somebody and apparently it’s a skill I don’t have. So?—?”

“Will can’t help you with that.”

“But he and I talked about?—?”

“First of all, he’s not here. Second of all, he doesn’t own any music. Plus, he knows nothing about recording equipment and is terrible at math.”

“Oh, okay, well?—?”

“I am the one you need to talk to.”

Before I can say anything, she gives me extremely detailed instructions regarding purchasing blank cassettes. Thankfully, the guy she tells me to talk to at Tech Hifi knows what she’s talking about.

An hour later, before I can even knock, Pam and Deb’s dog Rufus barks to announce my arrival. The sound is a painful reminder. However, there’s nothing I can do about the loss of Puck, but there is something I can at least try to do to prove to Lucy that I love her. That I’ve always loved her.

The door swings open, and Pam takes the plastic bag from my hands to inspect the contents. She nods and pulls me inside. “Good job. I’ve got everything ready to go. We might need to take a trip over to Tower Records, but we’ll start with our music collection.”

At least I’m doing something. It might be a lost cause. It might make things worse. But it’s not like I have anything to lose.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“Catapult” - R.E.M

Ben’s Very First Mixtape, Song #1

LUCY

After exiting the exam room, Dr. Morrissey slams the patient chart onto a metal table in the back hall “Can you believe that guy?” she hisses. “First he doesn’t believe me. Then he’s pissed atmebecause a breeder sold him a male instead of a female. And then he has the gall to ask if he could talk to the real vet?”

At least Ben isn’t a sexist asshole like the owner of the beagle Dr. Morrissey’s pissed at. I’m still mad at Ben, though. And I’m embarrassed. I can’t believe he told all those other people something that has to do with him and me. But right now, I have to get my boss in a better frame of mind, so I put my game face on.

“You’re a girl. You can’t be the real vet.” I nudge her shoulder with mine. “Anyway, you missed the fun conversation where I had to explain to the man about balls descending.”

“Probably made his ballsascend,” she mutters before shoving the chart through the window to reception and heading down the hall. “Alrighty then, what’s behind door number two?”

I pull the chart and hand it to her. “Oh, you’re gonna like this one. It’s a case of cat scratch fever.” I do a little head banging, hoping to cheer her up. Even though half my heart is stuck back in Ben’s apartment, I mean what I said to him. It’s time for me to stop being a martyr and live my own life. I’m going to make my proposal today, and it’ll go better if the doc’s in a good mood. “‘Cat Scratch Feverrrr.’ Come on doc, sing it with me!”

She rolls her eyes. “I hope they knowIdon’t do it for free.” She does a full-body shake and plasters on a professional smile before opening the door. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Adams, how are you?”

“Well, I’ve been better.” The older woman looks down at the large shorthair in her lap. “I’m worried about my sweet John Boy.”

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