Outside the Lines

“Hey, Felicity.”

Oh for the love of all things good in this world. Why does it have to be her? I press my lips together.

“Mindy, hi,” I say flatly. I look past her for the brand of tamps I want. She pulls a pink box of panty liners down and puts it in her cart.

“What’s wrong with Ben?” she asks, cutting to the chase.

“I don’t know,” I mutter and grab a variety box.

“I’m sure you do. He left work Tuesday morning and didn’t come back until today. He’s been quiet and in and out all day and doesn’t want to talk about ‘it,’ whatever that means. I’m pretty sure he was at the nursing home. Did his dad die?”

My heart stops in my chest. He mentioned it just once, while we were fighting. His father has memory issues and needs constant care. Oh fuck.

“He’ll talk about it when he’s ready,” I say and keep walking. “Bye.”

She doesn’t say “see you this weekend at the wedding,” thank God. Though, she still might show up. Who knows. I get what I need, pay for it, run to the ladies’ room, and high-tail it home. I have some research to do.

*

Within an hour, I know that Ben’s father lives at Meadow View Centers in downtown Grand Rapids. I hacked into the admission records, but drew the line at digging into medical records. I’m no criminal anymore.

His father was admitted a month before Ben moved here from New York.

It all makes sense now, and it hurts my heart even more. Ben left his dream job, left a potential for national recognition and fame as an artist for his family. He really wasn’t anything like the player I thought he was, that I knew he really isn’t. I was so scared of what could be, I let what actually is fly right by.

I close my laptop and bite my lip, trying to decide what to do.  I pick up the phone and punch in the number for Meadow View. It rings for a long minute before someone answers.

“Hi, is James Hartford available?” I ask the nurse.

“He’s in the dining room eating di

“No,” I say, relieved even more. I didn’t actually want to talk to him. “I’ll call back. Thanks, bye.” I hang up before I’m questioned and hope they don’t check the caller ID.

Ben’s dad is alive at least, though I know that didn’t mean he was “okay” by any means.

I sigh. Now what? Should I call Ben again? Give it just one more shot? I don’t want to come across as desperate, but that’s exactly what I am.

And people do desperate things for the ones they love.

I call Ben, hands shaking as the phone rings. He doesn’t hang up, but he doesn’t answer.

“Ben,” I say to his voicemail. “It’s me. I’m sorry, and I miss you. Can we please talk in person? I … I just need to know.”

I hang up and close my eyes, wondering how long it will take before I’m back to my old self. I was happy. A little lonely, yeah, but I was doing all right. Living and loving life and just being me.

I want that again, but not as much as I want Ben.

*

I didn’t get the dress altered in time before I passed out on the floor of my guest room. I woke up at 4 AM, crawled into bed, and slept for two more hours until my alarm blared. Then I called into work and said I was sick.

I’m feeling guilty now as I sit behind the sewing machine. Cameron is concerned; he said he noticed how quiet I’ve been over the last few days and wants me to take it easy so I can get better and be back to my old self Monday morning.

I let out a breath and cut a thread. Almost done. I like making costumes, but altering this dress made out of horribly flowy material … not so much. It didn’t take much work. I had to shorten the hem and let it out around the boobs. I pull out the pins, snip any extra hanging threads, and try it on.

Perfect fit.

Finally. I wrinkled the dress when I altered it, so I take it into the bathroom, hang it on the shower curtain, and get my steamer. I never realized how helpful being into costuming would be. Not everyone has a vast array of thread colors or steamers available in their homes.

I clean up and start packing my bag. I need something fancy to wear to the rehearsal di

The house is empty when I arrive. I assume everyone is at Jake’s or the hotel where family is staying. I use the time alone to take everything up to my room. I had pla

I take my computer downstairs, find the leftover booze from last weekend’s party, and pour myself a glass of red moscato. Then I settle on the couch and make it through one-and-a-half episodes of Supernatural before my parents come home.

“Oh good, you’re here!” Mom says as soon as she walks through the door. She’s wearing those temporary Styrofoam flip-flops they put on you when you get a pedicure. Dammit. I knew there was something I was supposed to do. I bend my legs and hide my feet under my body. There is nail polish in the upstairs bathroom. Left over from my childhood, but if I shake it enough it’ll be okay. Right? I hope so.

I ca

“Where else would I be?” I ask her.

“I called you and you didn’t answer!”

“Oh, yeah, left my phone upstairs.” I pause the episode, leaving Dean in an awkward position with Castiel. I snicker to myself.

“Did you remember your dress?”

“Yes.”

“And your shoes?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“And the necklace Danielle got you?”

I tap my neck. “I’m wearing it.”

Mom sets her purse down and comes into the living room. “Good.” She inhales and closes her eyes for a second before exhaling. “I’m so nervous. I’m having heart palpitations.”

“Calm down, Mom. The last thing we need is you passing out.”

“I’m not going to pass out. Why, do I look like I’m going to pass out? I’m not pale, am I? I skipped the sunscreen a few times this summer to get a glow.” She spits that all out rather quickly.

“No, Mom, you look gorgeous. The tan is very youthful. Just relax. Danielle has that fancy wedding pla

Mom smiles at me. “Yes, it is. And I’ll worry more at your wedding, anyway. At least I’m not paying for this one.”

I roll my eyes.

“Speaking of,” she stars. “Where is your hunky boyfriend, Ben?”

I clench my jaw, locking eyes with my mother. I want so badly to tell her everything, to cry and blame myself for losing him, and to have my mommy hug me and tell me it’s going to be okay. Life sucks for a while for everyone, but then things get better. They always do. They have to.

But I don’t tell her.

She’s already stressed and this weekend is all about Jake. I don’t want to take that away from him, and I don’t want my mom to worry any more than she already is.

“He had this big art event he couldn’t turn down. Something about investors in New York,” I say, unable to look at Mom as I lie. I go back to my computer, trying to seem uninterested. “He’ll try to come tomorrow.”

“Oh, what a shame. But I understand. And your cousin Randy will gladly fill in for him if he can’t make it.”

“Ew, Mom, that’s super creepy.”

She waves her hand in the air. “No, he just looks up to you.”

“Mom. He has a picture of me hanging in his room. And his locker at school.”

“He graduated high school this past year. So just one picture of you.”

I wrinkle my nose. “The one in the room is the creepiest. It’s right above the lotion and tissues.”