“I’m going to check on Trent. Could you put a shirt on?”
He nods his head as I walk past him and leave the kitchen. Needing a minute to myself, I stop in the hall bathroom. I close the door and look at myself in the mirror. I really look awful—my eyes are puffy with dark circles beneath them, my hair is a mess, and my face looks tearstained. I splash cold water on my cheeks and look back in the mirror—glad I finally told him.
When I come out, he’s waiting for me. Leaning against the wall with one hand shoved in his pocket and the other now back in the sling he says, “Okay, I’m outta here. I shouldn’t be too long, but if you need anything you can call Caleb.” Then he turns and leaves.
I check on Trent often, but he’s sleeping soundly.
Sitting on the couch, I look over to Ben’s desk and decide to call Aerie. I miss her and wonder how long she’ll be gone.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Aerie.”
“Dahlia? Why are you in Laguna again?”
“Long story. How are you?”
“Feeling like my head is going to spin off. I think I’m just about ready to start looking for a new job.”
“What do you mean? You love your job.”
“Hmmm . . . not so much anymore. There is always so much to do and management never listens. I really wish you were here with me. While I’m conducting this interview, I also have to write a story about my uncle’s band’s rise and fall before his death.”
“Yeah, well, helping you probably would have been a better option.”
“A better option than what, Dahlia girl?”
I tell her about the party and what happened—about finding out that Bell was the girl Ben e-mailed years ago and that River knew about it, then I tell her about the fight River and I had. I also tell her about Ellie. And finally I tell her about Trent and where I am now.
Aerie sounds shocked. First she tells me how sorry she is about Trent. Then she says she can’t believe what I told her about Bell. We talk about how I feel knowing River’s sister is the girl he almost cheated on me with. Finally she tells me that River and I need to do a better job of communicating and once again I agree with her.
When I hang up, I walk over to the kitchen window looking out onto the flower garden. I fill a glass of water and stand there, just drinking it. I’m so lost in thought that I don’t even hear Ben come in the door. I turn around and he’s just standing there, leaning against the doorframe, staring at me. I jump and water splashes everywhere.
“Hi, I didn’t know you were back.” I’m trying to keep my edginess at bay by keeping my voice even.
He cocks his head to the side. Grinning at the water stains down the front of my shirt he stares at my chest. “Did you miss me?” he asks.
I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest, leaning back against the counter.
“You ready to spill it?”
I have had enough of his comments but for some reason I still ask, “Spill what?”
“Come on, Dahl, I know you. I know something’s going on. I can tell. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
Pointing to his arm in the sling I say, “You know very well what’s going on.”
He furrows his brow then grins. “Trouble in paradise?”
“Fuck you, Ben Covington!”
Standing up straighter he moves closer to me and cups my chin. “There’s the girl I know.”
I roll my eyes again; I’m not going to let him get to me. Walking past him, I start to head for the hallway, but he grabs me and pulls me back to him.
I jerk away, glaring at him. “Ben, touch me again and I’ll make sure you have no arms left to use.”
With that, I go to say goodbye to Trent—he’s asleep, or trying to sleep. He’s curled up in a ball, shivering. I only stay a minute because I can’t look anymore—the little boy I watched grow up is gone. God, how did I miss this?
When I walk back into the kitchen to get my keys, Ben is making some toast. “Want some?” he asks, and I remember those words from a different time and a different context.
I shake my head no.
“Well, let me know if you change your mind,” he says. Then he points to the hallway. “Sorry about that before. I really will try to keep my hands to myself, but I can’t make any promises.”
I nod and try not to laugh at his cockiness. Accepting that Ben will always be Ben, I get to the reason I came here to begin with. “What did you decide about Trent?”
“We’ll check him into a center for a twenty-eight-day program. He’ll learn the twelve steps, hate life, hate me and his mother, but hopefully come out with the ability to fight his addiction.”
His bleak assessment takes me aback. “He’s lucky he has you.”
“I don’t think he’ll see it that way.”
“He’ll come around. Speaking of coming around, did you call Serena yet?”
His demeanor, his attitude, they all shift gears and he seems somber, maybe even uncertain. “I’m not going to call her until tomorrow morning. She thinks he’s at his dad’s so she’s not worried. By then I hope the fevers and chills have subsided.”
“Okay, Ben.” He’s right, Trent looks terrible and I’d hate for Serena to see him like that. Knowing there’s nothing else I can do, I reach for my keys and head out the doorway. “Alright, I’ll check in with you later.”
“See ya, Dahl, and thanks,” he calls after me.
I turn to face him before I say, “Ben, I am really glad you’re alive.”
“Thanks, Dahl. That means a lot. And I really am glad you’re happy,” he calls.
I smile at him and our eyes meet, but he quickly averts his gaze. Then I leave the house, probably for the last time.
As I pull out of the driveway, I can’t help but be sad for Trent, but for some reason I’m sad for Ben, too. There’s so much sadness surrounding me right now; focusing on any one facet of it is difficult. Something Grace told me comes to mind as I drive down the street. “There is something beautiful about each and every scar we bear no matter where it comes from . . . I will always be here for you,” and it hits me she has been there for me, and I should be there for her. I’ve never stopped to think about how Ben actually being alive has impacted her—she had scars, too.
Regardless of the reasons why I acted the way I did; I should never have walked away from her. I realize this as I drive by the beach and look at the families so effortlessly playing, swimming, and smiling, happy to be together. I have to talk to her and apologize for my behavior.
When I reach her house, I open the front door and call out her name.
She’s sitting at a small desk in the corner of the living room, going through some papers with only the desk reading light on.
She looks up from under her reading glasses. “Dahlia, honey, is everything okay?”
In a haze of emotion, I run to her and hug her as tight as I can, blurting out, “I’m so sorry.”
Glancing down, I notice documents with Ben’s name on them—his death certificate, a life insurance policy, and the coroner’s report.
Breaking our embrace, she clears her throat and in a small, almost raspy voice says, “Dahlia, you’re not the one who needs to apologize, I’m the one who should be saying I’m sorry.” She sets her glasses on the desk. “Come on, let’s sit down over here and talk.”
Walking over to the couch I can’t help but think how much this room feels like home to me. How all I want to do is sit here and just be near this woman who has been like a mother to me for my whole adult life. My intention was to come here and apologize to her, but now all I want is the comfort she has always brought me.
I try to disagree, but as she tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear, she keeps talking. “Sweetheart, listen to me. All I wanted was for you to try to understand why he did what he did, see if you could forgive him.”