Under the Orange Moon (23 page)

Ben erased the message and sank to his cold mattress. He felt guilty, but not so much that he was willing to admit it out loud. Charlie would give up soon enough. Not much kept Charlie Mathews’ attention.

He rolled his eyes at each random message only insignificant girls left, asking where he’d been and when they could get together. He cringed at the message from his aunt, his mother’s sister, who only now cared to be a part of his life. He chuckled at the message from Linda, asking if he wanted her to send the shirt he had mistakenly left behind at her house. He knew that it was only an excuse to call.

The final message was from his realtor, saying she had successfully fixed up and cleaned the house from all of the damage Ben had done through his grief. Ruth’s home was now ready for sale.
Finally
, he thought. He was more than ready to get that house and all it held inside as far behind him as possible. He couldn’t seem to muster up a single feeling of sentimental fondness when he thought of Ruth’s cold home. 

Ben slumped back against his pillow and pushed the play button on his remote.
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
was a movie that Dylan had enjoyed for as far back as he could remember. She tried to make him watch it one night and he truly attempted to, but somehow, in their entangled position on his bed, they had decided that making love was a better plan.

He found himself smiling as he watched this crazy woman avoid love at all costs. He didn’t find the film to be as great as Dylan made it out to be. He did, however, feel that much closer to her, like a part of her was in his television, or maybe even his bed. He smiled again, imagining Jonah catching him as he watched this ancient chick-flick. How could he even defend his masculinity then?

He pushed pause and shut off the TV when the knock on the door reminded him where he was. He had been doing that a lot lately it seemed. He drifted in and out, forgetting that he wasn’t in Phoenix anymore, but remembering with a sudden sound that he was back in his cold apartment in Cambridge.

Ben opened the door, not at all surprised by the guest that stood in his hallway.

“Professor Tanner,” he announced quickly. “Come in.”

The professor stepped in with his arms folded behind his back. His thick, red scarf filled with flakes of snow was an indication to Ben that he walked a great distance to pay this visit. Meaning, it was important.

“Ben, how are you?” Professor Tanner asked, removing his coat and gloves. He kept his scarf on for some reason. “I just spoke with your father.”

“Oh?” Ben asked, not surprised. He knew his father would be using his connections to make sure Ruth’s death didn’t cause any setbacks in school. It was only a matter of time. Professor Tanner was a well respected man who could make things happen or not happen. More importantly, he was Warren McKenna’s closest friend. Needless to say, Ben expected this visit.

“Why didn’t you say anything about your mother?”

“What is there to say?” he asked with a careless tone. “What could be done about it?”

Professor Tanner narrowed his eyes as he studied Ben’s expression. “You’re a strong young man, Ben. I like the drive in you. I believe it will take you as far as you want to go—all the way perhaps.” He paused to place his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “I’m not sure anyone is as strong as you’re letting on, though.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

“I can pull some strings and request that your internship be put on hold at Weis and Carter. Just until the fall, when you’re head is a bit more focused.”

Ben felt enraged, but kept it in his gut where it belonged when speaking to his criminal law professor. “Sir?” he asked, confused. Weis and Carter was Ben’s dream. It was the largest law firm in the country, dramatically called the Holy Grail among law students. He fought hard to be chosen for the internship, and he wasn’t about to let it go now.

“Son, this is your only shot with the big boys. If you screw this up, you’ll never get a chance to do it again.”

“I understand that, sir. That’s why I believe it would only be a mistake to postpone the position now. I need to direct this anger somewhere and I think
—I know—that this is the best thing I can do right now.”

Professor Tanner frowned.

“Sir, if I bow out now, how will I ever make it when I actually have to fight a case in the middle of another life crisis? I’m always going to have problems. I work best this way.”

The professor stuck his finger up into a point. “This is your
one
chance, Ben. Don’t blow it.”

“I won’t let you down,” Ben reassured. “So I can keep the internship then?”

Professor Tanner pursed his lips. He nodded his head once and put his hand to Ben’s shoulder. “If I see you slip in the slightest, I’ll pull you from it without a moment’s hesitation.”

“Yes, sir,” Ben said with a quick nod of his head. “I won’t let you down.”

As the door closed and Professor Tanner was gone, Ben exhaled his rage out into the air. He found counting to ten was a helpful gimmick when dealing with men and women that could crush his future with one tiny squeeze of their palms. Kissing ass was another one of his many talents. He despised doing it, but he would do it in desperate times.

The part about that conversation that angered him the most, not surprising him at all, though, was the fact that his father felt he needed to make that phone call to his professor. His father, whom he had not heard from since his mother killed herself, only wanted to make sure that Ben’s meltdowns didn’t embarrass him.

Ben flopped back down onto his bed and pushed the play button once more. Audrey Hepburn’s face reappeared on the screen, warming Ben’s heart and slightly embarrassing him even more. He felt ridiculous, weak, and sappy. He contemplated putting on a good porno just to reassert his manliness. He wouldn’t bring himself to do it, though.

He missed Dylan.

On a Tuesday in March, Dylan stepped across a busy intersection in
Phoenix. Of all the times she had been on that street, she never realized the lofts above the stores, possibly because she never cared to look up.

As she ran, her eyes stayed focused on the open windows above a retail store that she had never been in. She jumped when a car barely missed hitting her, and then waved it away when the driver laid on the horn in anger. She decided to look forward until she made it to safety.

She loved this area of Phoenix. It left a sort of lingering pleasantry in her each time she passed through on her way to the school. When she noticed the ad that morning, she thought of it as a calling to her that she needed to check out if only just to see. She may even hate it and decide against her idea, but she owed it to herself to at least look. 

She opened the door that was tucked just between two stores, and took the stairs up to the second floor. “Two-thirty-two,” she whispered, scanning a ripped piece of paper that she had quickly scratched the address on.

Dylan stepped in through the open door and smiled instantly. It was just how she imagined: open, spacious, bright with the sun peering in, and surrounded with windows. She looked down at the hardwood floors and realized they were brand-new, like the ad in the paper claimed. 

“Ms. Mathews?” a soft voice echoed to her.

Dylan beamed her most professional of smiles. “Dorothy?”

The small, fair-haired woman approached with her hand extended and her dealing face on. She was very properly dressed in business attire, and even had the briefcase to complete her look. Her heels made a clicking noise against the floor as she walked, and it looked as though she moved cautiously as to avoid scuffing up the hardwood. 

“So,” Dorothy began, spinning around and gazing at the high ceiling, “it’s nice, isn’t it?”

Dylan looked at the windows and the major space that surrounded her. She could have cared less about the ceiling. She nodded delicately, waiting to hear the price before she got too excited.
But as
she looked around the loft, it was hard to ignore the twirls of elation in her stomach.

“You’re an artist?” she asked, looking at Dylan as if she were supposed to break out into a Grateful Dead tune. “Full time?”

Dylan laughed. “Struggling artist, you might say.” She never quite knew exactly when one earned that title. What if someone asked her what she did for a living? Did she have to sell her first piece before she could actually claim she was an artist? Should she say she’s a teacher and just leave it at that? It was almost like acting, she thought. When could someone really say that they were in the profession of acting? When they had their first major role?

“Well, for the price, I suppose this studio would suit you.” Dorothy looked worried now that Dylan had used the word “
struggling.” “There’s plenty of space to put a bed here as well. It has all the commodities, kitchenette, bathroom, and dining area. The closets are small, but you could always stick an armoire in the corner there for extra clothing.”

Dylan nodded along as Dorothy went on. She loved the openness of the room. No matter what, it was far more privacy than she had ever had before and that alone was cause for celebration.

She already had a space for everything in her head. She imagined her easel set up in front of the window. She had always dreamed of her very own studio. She wanted nothing more than to wake up in the middle of the night with a vision and stumble to her canvas where she could instantly feel creative release without even putting on pants or brushing her hair. She just couldn’t do that in her family’s home.

“So?” Dorothy asked.

“How much?” Dylan asked with her arms crossed. “The ad offered a ‘good deal.’”

“The landlord is asking seven hundred a month. That includes water and gas.” Dorothy smiled.

“If you can get him to go down to six hundred, I’ll take it,” Dylan answered quickly.

Dorothy pulled out her cell phone and turned her back as if that prevented Dylan from hearing. She spoke in a low voice and laughed a bit with the person on the other end. Her voice seemed to take on a more cheesy tone and she sucked up like a pro.

She ended the call and slipped the phone back into her purse. “We have a deal,” she said with a grin. “When would you like to move in?”

Suddenly, Dylan’s heart thumped. The surreal moment had caught up to her and she knew the next step would be facing her mother. How could she even begin that conversation?

“I—I’ll call you,” Dylan stammered. “I have to give notice to…my…”
What should I call my own mother without sounding like an adolescent?
“…other landlord first.”

“All right, when would you like to at least get the ball rolling?”

“Ball?” Dylan asked stupidly.

“When would you like to sign the lease, dear?” Dorothy asked with astonishment for Dylan’s sudden awkward behavior. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

“Positive,” Dylan replied quickly. “I’m ready to sign a lease now, in fact. I just need to give notice to someone.”

“Okay. Well, we’ll have to run a credit check. How about we meet with the landlord this weekend, and you can sign the lease then and get to know him a bit in the meantime. He’s a very nice man.”

“That’s just fine.” Dylan felt giddy all of the sudden. “Call me and let me know when and where after my credit checks out.”

Dylan left and practically skipped through traffic again. She was even more absentminded than ever. Just one thought of being on her own, in a quaint little studio apartment, added a joy that she hadn’t felt in over two month’s time. She felt life changing and welcomed it happily.

There had been a heavy fall of snow continuously beating down on the east coast for days. Classes wouldn’t be canceled, which only pleased Ben because he found himself in a coma of sadness when he wasn’t able to work and walk among humans. He would watch the news everyday, crossing his fingers that school would go on and save him from another viewing of
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
.

Ben walked along a snow covered path that ran through the school campus. This was the long way to class, much longer than the straight walk the other pathway took. This particular course seemed to be the last part of campus that was ever shoveled. He didn’t care that he was walking through two feet of snow. He was avoiding many people and had been since his return to
Cambridge.

His breath blew into the bitter air as he walked. He was cold, which surprised him. The winter weather hadn’t really bothered him before, and now he found that the crisp cold was even a bit painful as it whipped at his face. Unexpectedly, he had gotten used to the desert weather in only a few weeks time.

Ben gave a quick nod as he passed the many faces he recognized. If they looked like they wanted him to stop, he pretended as if he was in a hurry, giving an apologetic glance and a shrug of the shoulders while he raced by them.

As usual, he thought of Dylan as he walked. He thought of her smile, her laugh, her gentle touch, her lighthearted sense of humor, her angelic nature, and, of course, he couldn’t help but think of her legs. Who wouldn’t think of her legs? He laughed to himself. This was it, he thought. He would never have that again. He had found the best part of himself in her and, like that, it was gone. He was a fool to believe he could have it anyway.