Page 116 of Every Good Thing
“Okay,” she returns grumpily.
“Start thinking about what you want to do on your sleepover this week. I love you. Be good for your mom.”
I don’t wait for Lena to get on the phone but hang up as soon as she says, “Okay, Dad. Love you. Bye.”
Avoidance isn’t the answer. But it’s the only thing I have right now.
The call with Ruthie tightens my chest. I return to the gathering for an acceptable amount before claiming the need to leave for an early shift tomorrow.
That’s a fucking joke. My new assignment puts me to sleep. I’ve been assigned to the desk unit, answering phones and managing walk-ins.
Lauren walks me to the door.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes.”
“If you need to talk…” Her voice trails off. She hands me the file folder, pushing it softly into my chest. “Why don’t you bring these by my place Friday night? We can go over them together.”
Her body language tells me that meeting her there would mean more than paperwork, and I feel uneasiness rise in my stomach at the invitation.
Mainly because I don’t say no.
Thirty-Six
LENA
The second Friday after Ben left (because that’s how I measure time now), I stand on our upper deck with a dozen hopeful, somewhat pitying faces staring at me. It’s our Friday meeting—the first one in a while because I haven’t felt up for it.
Don’t think about that now.
I hold my clipboard to my chest like a shield as everyone settles in the mismatched patio furniture I’ve dragged together. They help themselves to lemonade and lemon-mint cupcakes, another new creation that tastes of summer. Though it’s not anymore. It’s fall. October. Still warm, but less humid. Behind me, beyond the pond, color bursts from the changing trees amid the static pines. Reds, oranges, and yellows remind me of nutmeg, cinnamon, and allspice. It’s like the woods are coming to life, but they’re actually dying, a final burst of vivid expression before the end. The cold emptiness of winter soon will turn the world bleak.
My world’s already there.
A centering breath brings a weak smile as the chatter softens. “Thanks for meeting me. I have some big changes to announce.”
But my voice hitches when Ben and Ruthie round the corner of the house. He’s early. The second surprise is his friendly demeanor, light smile, and gentle wave, as if all is well.
“I’ll get my teapot,” Ruthie says, realizing she’s made it just in time for my sometimes-weekly meeting. Her boots flap as she races inside.
Ben doesn’t disappear like I expect. He leans against the outside wall of our bedroom—my bedroom, now—and signs for me to go on.
I hesitate. We’ve gone from estranged to strangers the longer we’ve been apart. Now, I’m nervous when I see him, like I might fuck up and do or say or be something that ends us once and for all.
It used to be this place that edged on brokenness toward being unlivable.
Now, that place is us.
On the first appointment with Dr. Reese since he left, he said he’d accepted the job, he only had to sign the contract and undergo training before starting the position in the new year. Not only that, he’s excited. He’s been spending more time with the Rileys—events not shared on the family calendar. He says it’s helping him remember who he was before he sustained his injuries, and it’s been almost a relief. For him, anyway.
So, while Ruthie and I have spent our evenings tackling farm chores and eating dinners alone or with Dot and Cherry, he’s reunited with his former second family over seafood nights and fancy dinners.
It’s hard not to feel betrayed by my husband’s happiness without me, as if I’ve been holding him back—a sentiment I shared tearfully when Dr. Reese asked how this made me feel.
When she asked Ben his response to my feelings, he said, “Yes. Saddletree, Lena’s anxiety, and her busyness sometimes feel all-consuming. Her world often feels too big for me.”
There’s that fucking bus again, honking as it peels away from my trampled body.
