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“Oh, you just want the four-one-one on my love life!”
A grin tugged at the corner of her lips. “I’m not happy staying over all the time. That’s gotta change, it really does. But in the meantime, Connor, youhaveto tell me how everything is going. This guy broke your heart twelve years ago and now your feet don’t touch the ground. What is going on?”
“Well. First of all. We’re taking it slow…”
I gave her all the salacious details that would keep her curiosity at bay. Bennett’s abuse was his information to share, not mine. I moved around the subject, though I suspected Rachel had picked up on the way I skirted certain questions. She let a lot of things slide, in fact, winding her finger in the air so I would get through the boring stuff. I knew where her concern remained.
“But you haven’t talked aboutit,” she said. In the course of my diatribe, she took a seat across from me. Grabbed my coffee and started drinking it herself. “The heartbreak?”
My chest rose and I let out a sigh. “No. Neither of us has hinted at it. I think about itall the timenow. Why did we stop talking? Why didn’t he ever call me when I was lying in a hospital bed drugged out of my mind and clinging onto the thought of him like a lifeline?”
Rachel choked on the coffee. “Jeez, Connor. You can’t let that stay bottled up. It’s going to eat that relationship alive if you don’t let it out. Why don’t you bring it up? You’re both mature adults.”
I crossed my arms over the counter. “What if something nasty happens? What if we lose our tempers? What if he did something I can’t forgive him for and everything we’ve built the past two weeks falls apart?”
“Then at least you’ll know,” she said. “Look. The more you stay silent, the bigger that elephant between you will grow. Soon enough, it’ll be too big to ignore. It’s like you’re filling a script with all this marginalia instead of writing the content. You need to move on to the next scene.”
I chewed on my lower lip, letting her words roll through my gray matter like spilled paint.
“You’re falling in love with him. I can see that,” Rachel told me in a quiet voice. “You owe it to yourself, and to him, to rip open that door and start talking about the past. And I mean the past that’s gone unspoken, not the reminiscing of the good times.” She looked down at her watch, cursed, and stood from the stool. “I gotta run. I’ll be back before five tonight.”
“Hey, real quick,” I said as I pulled the coffee mug back to me. Nothing left. “That new play Mom is working on. What is it about?”
She gave me a confused look. “She didn’t tell you?”
“No. What is it?”
“Huh. Well. I guess there’s a reason for that, then. Gotta jet.”
I tried to ask her again, but she waved me off and disappeared down the hall.
?
Ethanreceived an even bigger tip than the last one. We dined inside, a special corner booth just for us, with a “reserved” sign written in looping cursive. Ethan sat beside Bennett like a new friend while he took our orders. He dug at Winnie Bridgewater every chance he could, then overly complimented me on his favorite films of mine. Ethan, I came to realize, was a master at combining ostentatious genuflection and flippant sarcasm. The resulting mixture made for an entirely enjoyable evening whenever he popped in.
Bennett had insisted on trying “my drink,” as he called it. After double verifying that he did not mind the taste of Spanish olives, I ordered him a dirty martini and made sure Ethan knew to add a little extra brine. He slugged his back faster than me and within twenty minutes his cheeks were just-got-inside-from-skiing red. He ordered a second by the time dinner came and when we finished our meal, Bennett became a whole new person.
I had never seen Bennett so giddy as we left the restaurant and walked through a darkened parking lot. He sang. Some blues number I didn’t recognize and despite the vodka encouraging every note, he carried the tune. We approached his truck. Without being asked, he fished his keys out of his pocket and handed them to me. Earlier in the evening, he insisted on making this an official date. He picked me up at the house, dressed in a collared shirt tucked into a nice pair of slacks.
I helped him into the passenger seat. He cooed sweet compliments as I buckled him in. I climbed into the driver’s seat and paused.
Ah, shit. I hadn’t driven stick in almost a decade. I jammed the keys into the ignition, shoved the clutch down, and put her into first. “This might be, um, bumpy.”
“Well, it’s a mighty good thing I ain’t sick yet,” Bennett said with a stupid smile. His head swiveled as if he had lost some of his neck muscles. “This car is a piece of crap compared to yours, now that I look at it.”
This is gonna be a long ride.
I jack-rabbited out of the parking lot and got her into third gear by the time we hit our stride on the main road. Bennett’s belt held him to the seat every time we jerked forward when I switched gears. After a few minutes, old muscle memories came back for driving manual.
We arrived at Bennett’s house and I helped him out of the car. Slung his arm around my shoulders, my arm around his waist. We stumbled up the walkway and to the front door. I danced a little to hold him upright while I rolled his keys in my hand to hunt for the one I needed. Bennett patted me on my chest, then reached up to the light sconce next to the door. He twisted it a fraction to show that it slid open to reveal a hollow recess behind it. There sat an extra key. He slipped it free and pushed it into my hands.
“Clever,” I said as I unlocked and opened the door.
“Will you stay for a bit?” Bennett asked.
“Of course.”
“Mm. Good. I’mma go change.”
