Page 46 of A Good Book

“Why did your roommate take them to him?”

“They’re, uh, kind of dating.”

Her blue eyes widened. “Oh? He didn’t mention he was dating anyone.”

“It’s not serious. I don’t think. I don’t know.” I shook my head again. “Jeez, I should know,” I murmured as the guilt suffocated me.

“Have you been here the whole time?” Alan asked.

I nodded.

“Take a break. Your parents wouldn’t want you missing classes. Get something to eat. Go back to your dorm and focus on not getting behind. The doctor said he’ll be here a while. We’ll get a hotel nearby and take turns staying the night with him. Of course, you can visit when you have time, but there’s nothing you can do, so take care of yourself. That’s what Ben would want you to do.”

I didn't want to leave him. But I also felt guiltier by the second, watching them stare at their sick child who might never hear again.

“Okay,” I nodded. “Here’s the pad and pen I’ve been using to communicate with him. And here’s my number.” I wrote my phone number on it. “Call me if you find out more from the doctor or if anything changes. Or if he wants to see me.”

“Thanks. We’ll do,” Carmen said.

I stepped next to Ben’s head and ran my fingers through his hair. Then I pressed my palm to his cheek and his beard that had grown out since getting sick. “I’m sorry,” I whispered so softly, I knew nobody could hear me.

* * *

Over the following week,I stopped by the hospital every day after class. On the weekend, I spent most of the days there, studying at his bedside while his parents grabbed food and showered at their hotel.

It was, in fact, bacterial meningitis. And while he was feeling much better, his hearing was not any better. The doctors said it was rare to have profound hearing loss from meningitis, but not impossible.

You get to check out tomorrow. Are you excited?

He stared at the paper. Then he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back while exhaling. Every day was a struggle to stay focused on the positive things. Plenty of people died of meningitis. Despite the late diagnosis and treatment, Ben was alive. Still, I felt like a fraud for trying to sell the “at least you’re alive” angle.

I can’t imagine what you’re going through. How you must feel. I’m here for you.

I tapped his hand, and he opened his eyes to read my words. A few seconds later, his gaze slid to mine as if he was trying to gauge my sincerity. I lowered the rail to his hospital bed and crawled in beside him, resting my hand over his heart.

Maybe he couldn’t hear me.

Maybe he doubted my words on a piece of paper.

But maybe he could feel me.

And maybe he could think of all the times I found solace in his arms, and how my hand always navigated to a spot over his heart because Ben had the biggest heart of anyone I had ever known.

After I counted his chest rise and fall ten times, he rested his hand over mine. I closed my eyes and prayed for him to hear again, and I prayed for him to forgive me if he didn’t.

Ben was a lot of amazing things, but he was still human. Not super human. If he never regained his hearing, he would think of me and how my fear of facing him after what we did led me to avoid him. I abandoned him when he needed me the most.

After a few minutes, I sat up. Ben rewarded me with a sad smile, but it was a smile. I took whatever he would give me. I grabbed the pad of paper and pen.

I know I’m not as smart as you, but I will help you catch up on all of your homework. I’ll even write your short story for creative writing class. I got an A on mine.

He offered a repeat of his sad smile and said, “I’m going home.”

“What do you mean?”

He held a hand to his ear. So I wrote it down.

What do you mean?

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