Page 91 of A Good Book

Dear Ben,

What’s the newest Lego design? Maybe you should build yourself a girlfriend since no woman will ever want to be with you because you’re just mean. I thought by now I’d be better, less angry, but I’m not.

I saw a blind student on campus the other day, and I stopped them to ask why they were there. After all, they can’t see. I told them they should go home and give up on their life. You would have been so proud of me. I mean, how dare they think they can pursue a college degree when they can’t see. How dare they feel deserving of happiness. How dare they seek any sort of purpose in life. Right?

Did I mention I walked in on Sarah and Isaac having sex early Christmas morning? He was giving her oral sex. She really seemed to enjoy it, so that’s what Matt does to me now and it’s AMAZING!

I bet you’re glad you had so much sex before you got meningitis because you’ll probably never have it again. Who wants to have sex with a deaf person?

I hope your family is doing well. Say hi to Tillie and your parents.

Regards,

Gabby

Did it occur to me that I might go to Hell for writing such awful things even if they were written in jest? Yes. But it felt so good to jab him back. I really hoped he was reading them, even if he didn’t indulge me with a reply. I thought if he could see how ridiculous he was being, he might reengage in his life again. But mainly, I was desperate—desperately missing my friend.

Dear Ben,

Did you have a good Valentine’s Day?

Matt got me two dozen roses and he sprinkled the petals from another dozen all over my bed and we made love all night on the petals.

I set my pen down and ran my fingers through my hair as my eyes filled with tears. Everything was a lie. I hated the lies, the silence, the vast space in my aching heart where memories of Ben slowly died with each cruel intention. The ugly was winning so much it made me nauseous. I crumpled up the paper and threw it at the trash bin. Then I opened up my journal and started ripping out the pages of poems I’d written about Matt, giving up halfway through and slamming the whole journal into the trash even though there were other journals.

I kicked the bin, sending it across the room. Then I swiped my arms along my desk, sending everything crashing to the ground. Grabbing my pillow, I covered my mouth and screamed into it.

Memories of us in his bed flashed through my head. I felt his hands on my skin, his breath along my lips, and I couldn’t get the look in his eyes out of my conscience. Our connection caused everything else to fade away. That’s what I saw in his eyes. I was enough.

Ben made me feel likewewere greater than anything that was lost, and he did it without saying a word. Everything beautiful about our friendship came together in what felt like the most pivotal moment of my life. I didn’t think about Matt. He blurred into the background. There wasn’t a moment of regret.

At least … not in my mind or heart.

I wiped my face, picked everything off the floor and put it neatly back on the desk. Then I took a deep breath and started another letter.

Dear Ben,

Remember how you used to find a new song and listen to it over and over until you knew every word and beat? You said those songs kept you awake at night and popped into your head first thing in the morning. You called them inspiring, and one day you wanted to write something that consumed another just like that.

You are my song. I know every word and every beat. You keep me awake at night and pop into my head first thing in the morning. You inspire and consume me.

I’m sorry if I held on too tightly when you needed to be set free. I’m sorry if you felt like I was making everything about me. It’s just that my love for you makes it hard to distinguish where you end and I begin. For as long as I can remember, it’s been us—Gabby and Ben.

It’s going to take time for me to see myself in this world without you by my side. And maybe it’s just selfish of me to tell you all of this. It’s not your fault. I should have been there for you. I’ll spend eternity wondering what if. What if I would have swallowed my pride and been there for you when you were sick? What if I would have taken you to the doctor? So many what-ifs.

Maybe you love me too much to blame me, but what if you need someone to blame? What if letting go of your need to protect me is what will set you free? Free to move on. Free to dream of something new for your life? Free to love yourself and perhaps someone else again?

I’m truly sorry.

Gabby

* * *

Not gettingany replies from Ben sucked the life out of me. I lost focus on everything except my ASL classes. My grades plummeted. And I had no friends.

On top of all that, I had missed three days of school. By the fourth day, I went to the emergency room. Something was wrong, and I wasn’t going to be like Ben and wait until something awful happened to me. I didn’t have a roommate to save me.

“Hi, Gabby. I’m Dr. Leighton.” The woman with a long, gray ponytail greeted me, pulling the curtain shut behind her. “Your labs are back. Everything looks good. Were you aware that you’re pregnant?”

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