Page 114 of A World Without You
I’M BACK AT MY GOINGaway party, staring at Bennett’s mother after she just told me I was driving in the accident that killed Bennett’s wife and unborn Josie. She’s grief-stricken and hollow when she should be full of laughter, reminding me thatChristmas With The Kranksis her favorite Christmas movie.
Watching a single tear fall down her cheek, I’m convinced that this world is a sad and terrible place and I just want to wake up.
I’m lightheaded, certain I’m going to pass out, so I ground myself with words. “Where is he?”
“What?” She seems more alarmed than she should be.
“Where’s Bennett? I want to go see him,” I explain.
She pauses, eyes studying me.
“Why is no one with him?” I ask, considering the fact that it’s the anniversary of his pregnant wife’s death.
“We were, but then after a bit, he just wanted to be alone,” Shannon says. “Look, Livvie, he’s still so angry about what happened and seeing you is hard for him—”
“Ineedto go see him—”
“Child, I’m about to call an ambulance because you are acting like a-a-a-a...” her voice trails as she stutters and tries to find the right explanation for my erratic behavior.
“A person who needs him to know how much I care about him.” I finish my sentence, and she sighs out a breath before giving me his address. I escape the party in a blur, not saying goodbye, thank you, or Merry Christmas.
The Ubers are scarce, so I find myself walking the ten blocks to his apartment building in the wrong shoes for the snowy concrete. When I arrive, the windows are dark against the brick wall of the building, reminding me how everyone is probably with their friends and family celebrating the holiday.
Bennett should be too. He shouldn’t be alone. He should be with us. All of us.
He should be with me.
I attempt to use the keypad to call up, but it doesn’t light up or register that I’m pushing any buttons. I try the door and realize it wasn’t latched completely, so it opens, squeaking against the cold air of December.
I take the steps two at a time, ignoring the buzz of my phone in my pocket. I don’t have to look to know what they say.
Why did you leave?
Where are you?
Are you okay?
Olivia, this is crazy.
I make it to the third floor and knock on apartment number 307. The rough stained wood makes my knuckles red, and I self-consciously rub them as the hobbling on the other side of the door turns into it being swung open.
At first, I exhale, the relief hitting me before anything else.
There he is with his mysterious green eyes and his stupid scowl. But then I register the pain in his eyes and his sheer disappointment at the sight of me. He’s wearing faded blue jeans paired with a white t-shirt. It’s not stained, but it’s worn—it’s as if soft misery is woven into the fabric of his clothes.
“Bennett?” I ask, my voice more emotional than timid.
“Yes?” he asks. At first, I think he’s just not quite placing me, so I do it for him.
“It’s me, Olivia. We just made cookies a few weeks ago. I just—”
“I know who you are, Liv,” he cuts me off, then takes a sip of beer. He doesn’t seem drunk, but he doesn’t seem well, either. “Do come in.”
He gestures to the studio apartment over his shoulder with mock enthusiasm. I follow his lead, stepping through the small hallway that leads to the open living area. I’m struck by the contrast between this bohemian apartment to the contemporary lines of his townhouse in my real world. Even still, there’s an aura dancing in the air that is distinctly Bennett—the kind of presence that feels like a warm hug even as he scowls at me from across the room.
I swallow hard when I meet his eyes. There’s a sadness weighing us both down that throbs against my chest with each step I take. This doesn’t seem like the Bennett I know.
He may be quiet and unrequited in my world, but he’s full of kindness and stability. This Bennett has angry eyes and sad shoulders. I glance at the tree in the corner with colored lights.
