Page 103 of Every Good Thing
“What do you mean?”
“He was inside that trailer, trapped in that damn crate, crying for help, and I didn’t hear him. I just walked away.”
“But you must’ve come back.” Her brow crinkles into the letter L again as she assesses me. “What happened?”
“I got lucky.” Her fingers delicately wipe my tears away. “The forecast called for storms, and I noticed a kid’s backpack on a picnic table. I went to move it inside the screen door so it wouldn’t get ruined. It wasn’t until I went to the door a second time that I heard…” My voice trails off as I bury my tears in her stomach. She rubs my head, pressing me closer.
“If I hadn’t gone back… if I hadn’t seen the backpack… if it hadn’t been about to rain… I would’ve left him there, tortured and alone, all because I couldn’t fucking hear him.” I peer up at her, desperate for her to understand. “He was there the whole time, and I couldn’t hear him. I couldn’t hear him, Lena. I came so close to failing him, and every time I think about the horrible shit he went through, I feel sick and disgusted with myself. I can’t do this job anymore. I just can’t. Not if I can’t respond to a call confident that I’ll fucking hear someone crying for help.”
Her hand grips my chin, bringing my eyes to hers. “But you did hear him, Ben. A million ifs don’t change the truth—Adam is safe because of you.”
“I can’t risk it.”
“Everything’s a risk,” she says after a thoughtful pause, “and no one’s infallible. For every cop that could’ve saved Adam, another could’ve missed him for one reason or another. Hell, most cops wouldn’t go back for a kid’s backpack. It does no good to deal with what-ifs. You can’t put that kind of pressure—”
“All I feel is pressure,” I say, gently moving her away to stand up. “I’ve always been the strong one, steady and calm, the one that people rely on, count on for support. I need to be that for you, but I’m afraid I can’t be anymore—”
“You are that for me. And Ruthie. Always, Ben. We don’t need you to be a cop or a hero or anything. You are enough. You are all we need.” Her hand loops around my arm, holding me in place. Then, she presses it to the middle of her chest. “Breathe. Just breathe.”
I do as she says, closing my eyes and taking deep breaths to match hers. Lost in the time warp of her comfort again, I don’t know how long I stay there. But the pressure relents with each exhale.
“I love you,” I say like I can’t help it. “Thanks for staying.”
“You’ll never get rid of me, Ben Wright. I’m yours, always. No matter what.” She tiptoes up to me for a kiss, soft and sweet, like she wants to seal her promise.
If only I could believe it. God, I want to believe it. “Um, I should get back.”
“Okay, but can we talk more tonight? We’d be in a much better place if we were there together. Please.”
My hesitation disappoints her. I envision her freed to launch into her million questions, breaking me down further, and her gushing with encouragement and platitudes to rebuild me again.
But some things are beyond her control. She can’t give me my hearing back or stop the changes ahead. She can’t control her inevitable disappointment or reaction when I become the burden I fear. I dread that day more than death.
The pressure returns tenfold just thinking about the conversation. Still, I can’t refuse her.
“Tonight. Yes.”
Logically, it’s a good plan. Identify the problem through calm communication with her and Dr. Reese. Solve the problem with support, assistance, and workable strategies. Simple.
Well, bordering simple.
It’s the best course of action. For the moment, anyway.
She and Ruthie rejoin the comic-con. I call my captain, admit my difficulty with today’s event, and request to be taken off patrol after this shift. He says he’ll have a new assignment for me starting Monday. At a desk, probably.
Rejoining my fellow officers in the arena to finish dealing with the situation, I notice Lena and Ruthie meeting up with the Mackey-Grahams. Jack Graham slips his arm around Rowan’s waist while she mindlessly rubs her basketball belly. I almost don’t recognize Adam in his full Spiderman costume. He crouches around Ruthie, shooting her with imaginary webs from one hand and clicking his flashlight at her with the other. My flashlight.
Guilt and shame hit me again like a blisteringly cold wind through the arena.
Stop thinking and do your fucking duty.
But Adam bolts through the crowd when he sees me, and my bad feelings mount into an avalanche. He grabs onto me, gushing about his costume and the event. Holding him reminds me of the first time and how emaciated and scared he was. He’s much healthier now, though still slight. His family and mine follow, and light conversation ensues.
Under it all, the pressure grows. A glance at Lena’s soft, loving, but concerned eyes tells me she sees it.
So, when Jack invites me over for a drink later, I agree, and Lena’s smile disappears in her disappointment.
Thirty
