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What must that be like for a mother?
“Tea would be fantastic.”
“Good, good. You two go ahead, and I’ll put the water on.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Ben gestures for me to lead the way, and I get a strange sense of comfort from the fact that I know where I’m going.
Before I’ve gone too far up the stairs, I remember something and stop to turn back around. However, my abrupt halt results in Ben running into my back and having to catch me before I topple forward on the steps.
“What’s up?” His arm remains wrapped around my waist even though I’ve regained my balance.
I turn in his hold to face him but also so that I can head back downstairs. Standing a step up from Ben, I find myself in the convenient position of being exactly eye-level with him.
All I see is green. Dark green bordering on hazel but not quite there. The green of a dense forest with a canopy that sunlight has trouble penetrating. A place you go to for a sense of calm and stillness, so you can get lost and finally hear your own thoughts without the thunder of others around you. A green you can wrap yourself in and feel safe. A sturdy, reliable green.
The clang of a metal pot settling on a stovetop makes me flinch, and I realize I haven’t answered Ben’s question. And, what’s more, he’s simply standing still and letting me stare into his eyes, like the weirdo he’s claimed I am. I shake my head and beat back my lady urges with a Fred Flintstone–sized club.
“Almost forgot my chair.”
Ben still holds on to me and stops me as I move to step past him.
“Don’t worry about it. There’s one up there for you already.”
A quick glance to the dining room table reveals a complete set, but when I look back at Ben, he just gestures with his chin for me to continue up the stairs. Then, his eyes drop to my mouth, and I’m tempted to bite my lip.
Not good. Time to move.
Only when I turn back around does he let his arm fall.
When I enter the room, my feet stutter to a halt. The machine and Ben’s recliner have been shifted out of the middle, and there’s a smaller yet still sinfully comfy-looking lounge chair beside his seat. It’s angled so that the sitter can see the TV screen but also face Ben.
“That’s your chair.” Ben walks by me to pat the new furniture’s armrest before taking his seat.
I want to ask him why there’s suddenly a second seat in this room when there wasn’t one before, but I’m afraid I’d like the answer too much.
Best not to question it.
As I go to take my place, I notice a small paper bag nestled on the seat.
“This yours?” I hold it up, about to hand it to him, when he shakes his head while wearing a half-smile.
“For you. Open it.”
When I do, I gasp. “Seriously? When’d you get this? You didn’t even know for sure I was coming over!” I pull out a lovely, buttery, flaky almond croissant.
Ben just shrugs like this wonderful pastry isn’t a big deal. “I hoped you would but figured I could find someone to eat it if you didn’t show up.”
I don’t know what to do, so I just settle into my new cushy chair and take a bite of the soft bread.
“Here, put this on. And look away until I tell you it’s clear.”
I slip the rest of the croissant back into its bag and then take the proffered medical mask. The fabric fully covers my mouth and nose with the elastic bands circling my ears. This brings me back to all those times I went with Marcus for his treatments. Need to make sure our faces are covered before inserting the needles. Those gosh darn needles.
Shame fills my stomach when I turn my back on Ben. There’s no doubt in my mind that it’s the best choice for me if I want to avoid triggering a panic attack. I just hope he realizes that I’m the one who’s messed up. Not him.
“We’re good.”
