Saving Ben (22 page)

“I’m sorry our plans have gotten so out of control,” I said to Thompson when I found him waiting for me on the steps leading up to his apartment. “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to go.”

“In that case, text them now and tell them we can’t make it.” He began dragging me up the steps.

“Wait a minute.” I snatched my arm away. “I said I don’t
blame
you for not wanting to go. That doesn’t mean you don’t
have
to go. Are you chickening out on me?”

“Chicken, hell. If you’re going to blame someone, blame yourself.” He drew me in and nuzzled my neck. “You should never have worn those black boots with those tight jeans.”

“Come on, you naughty boy.” I grabbed his hand and led him back down the stairs. “We need to go if we wanna get a good table.”

For our sacrifice, Brewster’s gave us their biggest table by the window. With Halloween less than a week away, pumpkins glowed on the bar, black plastic spiders sprang from the ceiling, and ghosts illuminated the corners—all contributing to the restaurant’s festive atmosphere. Every third person came dressed for the occasion with the most popular costumes of the year representing vampires and Mario Bros and Lady Gaga.

Archer and Spotty arrived twenty minutes later with Reed and his date, Maddie Maloney, the girl I once thought was so perfect for Ben. We settled in with a round of beers and an appetizer sampler. No one dared to talk about it, but I could tell by the sneaked peeks at their watches and quick glances toward the door that everyone was aware when Ben was almost an hour late.

“Who asked her to come?” Archer said, bringing the conversation at the table to a halt.

We watched Ben force his way through the crowd with Emma following on his heels, like an annoying fly. She tugged on his jacket hood and grabbed at his arm until she finally got his attention. He leaned down and she whispered in his ear, but whatever she said seemed to irritate him. He jerked his arm away from her and continued on toward our table. In one fluid motion, Emma slipped out of her coat and lowered herself to the empty seat next to Thompson, making a big show of crossing her long bare legs. She followed the introductions around the table until we reached Maddie. Her eyes narrowed, and her lips tightened, and her face drained of color. She turned her back on Ben and focused her attention on Thompson, cranking up the volume on her charm to a near-deafening level.

“If she gets any closer to your boyfriend, she’ll be in his lap,” Archer whispered in my ear.

Spotty leaned across Archer toward me. “Leave it to that bitch to show up uninvited. Ben specifically told me this afternoon that she wasn’t coming.”

“It’s
my
bad,” I mumbled. “When our group of three turned into a party of seven, I should have asked her to come. Prepare for battle, because if she thinks we excluded her on purpose, she’ll make us all pay.”

Sitting back in my chair, I pretended to talk to Archer and Spotty while I eavesdropped on Emma, who was describing in great detail to Thompson her costume for the Monster Bash on Saturday night. She was planning to dress like an angel in all white—bodysuit, see-through negligee, and go-go boots—for the
Hell on Earth
theme. The more she talked, the more it became apparent by her slurred speech that she’d already had a lot to drink. Thompson was making every effort to include Ben in the conversation, but my brother was too busy staring across the table at Maddie Maloney to notice.

“Guess what, Kitty?” Emma leaned further than was necessary across Thompson to get my attention. “I’m spending Thanksgiving with your family at the river. Isn’t that cool?”

I glanced over at my brother in time to see the muscles tighten in his face. I could tell he was as happy as I was about the idea of spending Thanksgiving with Emma.

“It’s so cute that your friends call you Kitty,” Thompson said, mussing my hair.

I rolled my eyes and reached in my purse for my phone. I sent a quick text message to my mother:
Book rooms at homstead asap unless u want to feed emma turkey for thnxsgiving.

During the months since I’d returned to school, my relationship with my mother had improved significantly. The silent communication of texting and emailing had given us not only the opportunity to say the things we didn’t know how to say to one another in person but also the chance to think about our responses before we replied.

She must’ve been sitting by her phone because she texted me back within a couple of minutes:
Done.

I called Ben’s name three times before I got his attention away from Maddie Maloney. “Didn’t Mom tell you about Thanksgiving?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, casting a nervous glance at Emma. “I assumed we were going to the river.”

“Nope. Mom and Dad booked rooms for us at The Homestead. You know how obsessed they’ve been about family time lately.”

His face brightened, but he tried not to smile. “That’s cool,” he said, ignoring his girlfriend’s gaze. “I haven’t been to The Homestead since we went for my twelfth birthday.”

Emma shifted in her seat to face Ben. “What does that mean for me?”

Ben shrugged. “Didn’t you say you needed to go home to see your mother? Now the decision has been made for you.”

“I was talking about going home over Christmas break, not Thanksgiving, you bastard,” Emma said, pushing back from the table. She kicked her chair out of the way and stumbled toward the door.

Somewhat reluctantly, Ben stood up and followed. Our window offered us front-row viewing for the scene that unfolded on the sidewalk outside. Ben caught up with Emma and grabbed her arm. She swung around and slapped him hard across the cheek. The glass was thick and her voice was muffled but we could still hear her scream—“That bitch of a sister of yours is such a fucking skank!”—for the benefit of everyone gathered around on the street and at our table.

A student, dressed in a hippie costume with a tie-dyed band around his head and a peace sign on his neck, stepped between Ben and Emma and tried to break them apart.

“Hey, dude, mind your own fucking business!” Ben got in the man’s face, towering over him until he ran away.

With the hippie out of the way, Emma attacked Ben, pounding his chest with her fists and clawing at his face with her nails. My brother finally managed to wrap his arms around her body and immobilize her until she calmed down. Then he turned his back on the gaping crowd and ushered Emma in the opposite direction.

Thirty seconds later Ben appeared at our table, alone, to gather their coats. “I’m sorry things had to end like this, man,” he said to Thompson, shaking hands with him before turning his back on everyone else.

Reed, the great avoider of conflict, signaled to his date that it was time for them to leave. “Sorry to cut out on y’all like this,” he said, tossing a twenty-dollar bill on the table, “but Maddie made plans with some of her sorority sisters for dinner.”

With only the four of us left at the table, we looked around at one another, unsure how to proceed. “I don’t know about y’all, but I’m ready to order some dinner,” Thompson said, rubbing his belly. “And I’m pretty sure that large crowd waiting at the bar over there would appreciate it if we moved to a smaller table.”

The hostess showed us to a booth in a cozy corner at the back of the restaurant. “I’m sorry, Thompson,” I said when we were settled. “I should have told you about her sooner.”

Archer dropped her jaw. “What the heck, Kitty? You mean to tell me you haven’t told Thompson about Emma? After everything she put you through last year?”

“And there’s a reason for that, Arch, if you’ll let me explain. Remember Lizzie’s party and what a mess Ben was that night?” Archer nodded. “Well, that was Thompson’s first impression of him.” I turned to Thompson. “I wanted you to have a chance to get to know the real Ben”—I bit my lip to hold back my tears—“before I introduced you to his girl-thing. It’s embarrassing that a guy like my brother, who has so much going for him, would fall for someone like her.”

Spotty slapped Thompson on the back. “You’ll like Ben once you get to know him. I promise. He’s a good guy. He’s just been in a really bad place for a really long time. I must say, though, I was encouraged by his behavior tonight.”

Archer raised an eyebrow at Spotty. “How can you say that after what we just witnessed?”

“Because I know Ben,” Spotty said. “And I was watching him tonight. Unlike his girlfriend, it didn’t appear like he’d been drinking before he arrived, and he didn’t have much while he was here.”

“I noticed that too,” I mumbled.

Spotty looked pointedly at me. “We are not in the same place we were in last year. Ben was mad as hell at Emma tonight, and jealous that Reed was out with Maddie, but he was not drunk.”

“By the way, what’s up with Ben and Maddie?” Thompson asked. “Did they used to be together?”

“Yep, and guess who broke them up?” Archer asked. “Emma.”

Thompson rubbed his eyes with his balled fist. “I’m no psych major, but Emma is clearly not firing on all cylinders.”

Spotty sat back in his chair and guzzled half of his beer. “It makes me crazy to think about what she’s put poor Ben through,” he said. And for the next half hour, we relived the past twelve months for Thompson, stopping only long enough to order dinner. We told him about the disaster with the sorority and the drugs and the spring break trip to Florida. By the time our food came, we’d convinced Thompson that Emma was suffering from some sort of mental disorder.

“I can tell how much the three of you care about Ben,” Thompson said, studying each of our faces in turn. “If I had to render an unqualified diagnosis, I’d say that Ben is addicted and Emma is his drug. Obsessive-compulsive disorder meets psychopath. A dangerous, if not a deadly, combination.”

“Seriously, Thompson?” Archer asked with her mouth full of food. “A psychopath?”

Thompson nodded. “The superficial charm, promiscuous sexual behavior, and pathological lying—it’s textbook Psych 101.”

At a sudden loss for appetite, I set my half-eaten hamburger down on my plate. “And just what the hell are we supposed to do about that?”

“Get some professional help, for starters.” Thompson reached for my hand. “In the meantime, you need to keep them apart as much as you can.”

“That’s exactly what Kitty and I have been trying to do,” Spotty explained to Thompson.

“Then keep it up,” Thompson said. “Get creative like Katherine did earlier when she texted her mother under the table to book those rooms for Thanksgiving.”

Archer laughed, spitting beer all over the place. “You sneaky little bitch.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” I handed her a napkin and turned my attention back to Thompson. “Do you really think Emma is dangerous?”

Thompson put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “Let’s just say I’d feel a lot better about the situation if you didn’t have to sleep in the same room with her.”

We’d had such a good time at The Homestead over Thanksgiving, our parents surprised Ben and me with a trip to New York to see the Rockettes in the days leading up to Christmas. We appreciated their attempts to grant us more independence and treat us with more respect, and although we knew they were only alleviating their guilt over their acceptance of an invitation to the mountains with friends, we did not turn them down when they insisted we take a group to the river for New Year’s.

The only bachelor amongst three other couples, Ben appointed himself chef and went about planning a feast fit for visiting royalty. When we became bored with the party scene in Richmond, Ben and I headed for the river early, on the thirtieth, to shop for food and freshen up the house.

We unpacked the car and moved all the wicker furniture out of the living room and back onto the porch. Then, with a mushroom pizza and a six-pack of Natty Light between us, we settled into the leather club chairs in front of the fire to make out our grocery list. My buzz gained me the confidence I needed to ask my brother how he felt about our guests sharing rooms with their dates.

He raised an eyebrow at me. “What you really want is my blessing to shack up with your boyfriend.”

I shrugged. “Pretty much so, yes. But I’m not the only one worried about how you might feel. Archer also wanted me to talk to you.”

“I’m not worried about Archer and Spotty. She is in his very capable hands. You and Thompson are a different story. Tell me the truth. Does he treat you well?”

“He’s a good guy, Ben, but you’d already know that for yourself if you hadn’t blown your chance to get to know him.”

Ben looked away from me, hiding his face in shame. “Do you think Thompson will give me a chance to redeem myself?”

“Yes, because that’s the kind of guy he is. But this time don’t screw it up. Thank God, Emma isn’t around to sabotage our weekend,” I added under my breath.

Ben got up to stoke the fire. “I won’t screw it up. I promise. Anyway, all that unpleasantness with Emma is gone from my life.” He placed the poker back in the rack and turned around. “She and I broke up,” he said, laughing at my expression, my mouth hanging open like a baby drooling on its bib. “Gee, Kitty, don’t look so surprised. I’m sure deep down you’re thrilled.”

I uncrossed my legs and sat up straighter in my chair. “Thrilled doesn’t begin to touch it. I’m euphoric and ecstatic and exhilarated all at once. Damn, Ben, that’s the best news ever.” I offered my hand up for a fist bump.

“Let’s just hope it’s over for good this time.”

“Wait a minute. What do you mean?” I jumped up out of my chair to face him. “Either you
are
or you’re
not
broken up. Unless the two of you have decided to be friends with benefits, in which case I’m doing a nosedive from delighted to devastated. Don’t jerk me around.”

“Actually,
I’m
the one who’s being jerked around.” He reached in the cooler for two more beers, popping the top off of one and handing it to me. “What would you say if I told you Emma is stalking me?”