AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I look back as I’m heading outside to see where Silvia points Dax to, “That’s our Arts and Crafts room. It’s covered in paint already, floors too, so you’re free to go nuts if you want.”
I exit onto the front porch, white floorboards creaking under my hurried flats. The plan is to take a few photos and be in time for dinner. But plans change.
Following around the house, heading east and out of sight of the porch and entrance, I lose track of time, taking a generous amount of photographs of the gorgeous colors, intricacy of the frail leaves, waves of petals, their sunlike center that spreads out, often with a light green nucleus. I have to get on my tip-toes for some, drop to the ground for others, taking picture of underneath, the dark green cup that holds its beauty to the sky.
Suddenly I realize I’m supposed to be inside. Oh no! Nobody came and got me. Not that it’s their responsibly. My getting lost in this was my doing, but oh, I hope I haven’t gotten off to a bad start with the group.
Hurrying in, I am gushing, “I’m so sorry! Please forgive me. I lost track of the hour. I hope…” My breath catches in my throat as I lock onto a stranger I’ve never met, his dark green eyes set under a frown pointed right at me. “Who are you?”
Everyone looks between us, and Rachel, sitting next to him, raises her hand and starts to speak but he beats her to it with a look filled with confusion as he says simply, “Ben.”
My heart hurts.
I have no idea why.
I whisper, “Willow,” and take the empty seat beside Laura, as the dining table comes back to life.
But mine feels once again altered.
Twice now, during this trip, and it’s only the first day, a single word has changed who I am.
NINE
Ben
I’m silent through the rest of dinner, conversations a fog around me. Can't think straight. Mom and Dad don't seem to notice, probably just assume depression is the cause. That would make sense. I haven't been very talkative during the time I've spent with them over the last few months. Feeling the repercussions of all that is going on. But this is different.
When the guest named Willow walked in with an impressive camera strapped over her shoulder, long black hair flowing with her speed, breasts bouncing, hips full and rocking, it was intoxicating. A heart shaped face with big grey eyes. Long eyelashes fluttering as she apologized for being late, had me speechless. And her lips. Those teeth. Those white teeth. She froze when she saw me, asked who I am. Like I… I don’t know what she was thinking. The introductions happened before she arrived and nobody filled her in. I haven't been able to look at her because, if I do, I know I might never stop.
Mom rises first, and scoops up the plate from one of their retreat guests, a man named Steve. He objects and she insists on bringing it to the kitchen. Everybody else rises immediately and brings in their own plates and silverware . They don't know it but this was a test. Mom and Sylvia always wanna know who is the most self-serving. The people who expect to be waited on won’t bring in their dish. They do it to pinpoint trouble-people. Those who either don’t like to help others by nature, or weren’t taught how to be polite. There’s lots of other reasons, but those encompass the majority, Mom told me long ago. It looks as if this group doesn’t have any obvious problem people. Even Steve, having no plate and silverware to bring into the kitchen, instead refills everyone’s water glasses from the first pitcher until it runs out, then lifts the second, asking, “Where do I fill the pitchers up?”
Since the past few years I've been doing most of the heavy lifting around the house, with Jonny the only one helping out, I learned, it's refreshing to be here tonight among good people. Kinda wish Jonny was here, too. Makes me not want to go home. Even though I stopped listening to the conversations, I heard no lulls. The energy in here has been easy. Which means I probably stuck out like a sore thumb by not saying anything.
Dessert is next and they've made crème brûlée, my favorite. Mom knows that. Dad and I exchange a look, a smirk on his face, and instantly I understand he planned on my coming long before asking me. I go to grab the dessert napkins from the third drawer and bump into Willow. My excuse me comes out instead as, “Hey.”
Her long eyelashes flutter up. “Hi,” she smiles, and the activity of everyone clearing what remains of dinner’s evidence, disappears.
“You a photographer?”
“No.”
I frown, about to ask more about her, but the sound of Sunflower’s front door opening catching a couple people’s attention. Then all.
Shelby with suitcase in tow strolls into the room. “Sorry I'm late!"
The guests react with positivity but Mom, Dad, Sylvia all freeze where they are. A fist grabs my stomach, twists it into rage. I walk over, “Shelby, what’re you trying to do?”
She tries to walk around me. I block her. "Excuse me! I paid just like everybody else!"
“Where Jonny?"
"Mom is watching him."
Dad asks, "Ben?"
“I’ve got this,” I growl.
"You don't have anything! And you sure don't have me! You ended it, remember?"
