Page 19 of No Kind Words

“Whenever you’re ready, Ben. She’s not going anywhere.” I stand, wanting to shift the conversation to us. It’s the reason I want him here. “Can I get you a drink? I’m having one.”

Hesitantly he rises, but he nods and follows me into the large open-plan kitchen and living room. He looks around the space, a hint of a smile playing on his full lips. “Wow! This is impressive. There’s so much space.”

It’s the reaction I’m getting from everyone who’s visited. I couldn’t be happier here. Except maybe I could. Maybe I could have a future with Ben. I don’t think we’re going to fall into each other’s arms, declaring love and forever anytime soon, but being able to talk again is a starting point.

I grab a bottle of single malt whisky and two tumblers from a cupboard in the kitchen and approach him again. The dog has plastered herself against his leg, looking up with adoration. She definitely won’t be staying here with me. “Have a seat, Ben.”

He sits uncomfortably on the sofa. I take a seat in the large chair opposite him, splash a couple of fingers of the Scotch into the glasses, and hand one to him. Then wait.

Ben looks down at the amber liquid in the crystal glass, then takes a sip. “Look, I’m not sure what you want to hear or if you just have something on your chest you want to get out. But I want you to know I’ve missed you. I have never really got over the way we ended. Your silence hurt. However much I wanted to get away from here, I knew it was the only place you’d know where to find me.” He takes another sip. “I don’t know what you want, Jethro, or should I call you Jet like everyone else?”

“Jethro is fine. It seems I’m the only one here who calls you Ben. Which do you prefer?”

“I don’t care. It’s just a name. It’s your turn to speak. You asked me here to do just that.” He pets the dog’s head, sliding his fingers through the short, soft hair. He must be taking comfort—or perhaps strength—from the brave little animal.

“Do you want the whole story or just the whos and whys I’m here for now?”

“I want the truth, Jethro. I think you owe me that. Fifteen years of silence. Fifteen long years.”

I take a gulp of Scotch. I need to man up, but the memories of that time in the barn are all spoiled by the pain inflicted on me. The way my father treated me. The pain I endured was nothing compared to losing Ben. The fact that he never got in touch hurt me to the core. I was an eighteen-year-old kid. I looked up to him. He was much more of an adult than I was. “It was bad, really fucking bad. But after a long time, I recovered from the injuries. But the silence from you hurt the most. I thought you loved me. We had plans for the future.”

He's silent for a long time. “I had no way of contacting you. You left without a trace. I didn’t even know where you’d gone. You’re the one who broke us up, not me.”

“But the letter. I gave my mum a letter to give to you. She promised me she would.”

We stare at each other. Ben shakes his head. “I never got a letter. Didn’t she tell you I’d been to your house nearly every day? Whenever your dad was away from the farm, I would call. Did she tell you that? Shit, I even asked her if you had anything to pass on to me. She said no. To my face, Jethro. She said no to my face.”

“Would it have made a difference? Would you have left here and followed me to Scotland?” If he says yes, he’s a liar. He wouldn’t have left his elderly parents.

“I want to say yes, but it would’ve had to be later. But we would have been together still. We would’ve had each other.”

“Do you really believe that? That a long-distance relationship would’ve lasted? I was in uni for six years, Ben. That’s a bloody long time. It was incredibly hard, so much harder than I expected. We would’ve been another statistic. I was so young, so naïve. We both were.”

“And now? What do you think is going to happen now? What did you think would happen when you showed up again?”

He’s angry. Have I just dashed the dream he’s been carrying for all these years? That we would have a perfect life together, marriage, kids, the whole caboodle? “No one has seen or heard from you, Jethro. You didn’t come back for the funerals. You did nothing with the farmhouse as it disintegrated. Honestly? I thought you’d stay away for good.”

“So did I.”

This isn’t how I expected this conversation to go. I thought we’d be so angry with each other we’d get everything off our chests, then be able to talk normally. Instead, it’s sad and final. There’s nothing left between us. No spark, no interest. But I still have questions I want an answer to. “Then why now? I don’t believe it was because of the practice coming up for sale.”

A myriad of emotions flutter over his face and in his eyes. The predominant one, the one that stays the longest, is sadness. I want to reach out and pull him in close, to wrap my arms around him and tell him it’s going to be all right. He sighs and takes another sip of his whisky but stays silent. I don’t want to be here any more. I’ll be professing my love and begging him to have me back. Fuck that. I’m forty, for god’s sake. “Look, Jethro, we’re getting nowhere. When you work out why you wanted to talk to me, come and see me.”

When I stand, the pup shifts, looking up at me with a ‘don’t leave me’ look in her eyes. I pet her gently. “Let me know when she’s healthy enough to come home with me.”

The short distance from the living room to the front door feels like a mile. I take my coat from the hook on the wall and turn the latch.

Jethro touches my shoulder with a firm grip. “For you,” he says, his voice raspy, thick with emotion. “I came back for you. I’ve spent all these years missing you. I haven’t found anyone who can hold a candle to you.”

His breath is close enough to make the hairs on my neck stand up and ghost over my ear. I’m afraid to turn around. My face will give away my feelings, my fears. “Ben, please.”

“Please, what?” I croak.

“Don’t go.” He’s so close his lips touch the shell of my ear.

I shiver, stepping away from him, then slowly turning to face him. “Yet you’ve been ignoring me. That’s not what you do if you’ve missed me. You show up, and you say hello. You ask to talk.”

“You’re right, but there were things I had to get done first. It sounds pathetic, I know. I had to get all my ducks in a row before I had anything to offer you. I hated that the first time we saw each other was in a room full of our friends, our community, and you had that sweet dog in your arms. I didn’t know what to say. She had to be dealt with. I have asked since, though.”

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