I am biting my tongue as he pulls my shirt gently over my head. He's either going to accidentally bump my arm, since Ben is not known for his grace offstage or off ice for that matter, or make some sick joke that will have me laughing and clutching myself in pain.
To my surprise he does neither.
He turns the shirt right side out again and lobs it toward the laundry basket. Then he crosses to my closet and asks me if I have a preference. Like we're talking about the weather, only I am naked from the waist up.
The stretchy pink one, I say. He shakes his head. Long sleeves, little bee. How about one of Jake's shirts instead? One of his flannel ones? I nod. I've already switched to staring out the window. The painkillers make it hard to keep my mind on anything. I want to sleep but it hurts to lie down. It's better to stand. I pace a lot, mostly. When I close my eyes I see Cole's face, full of rage.
Ben is feeding my good arm into a sleeve. Good as new, he whispers, and kisses the end of my nose. He is so brave. I'm glad Jake asked him to look after me. This would not work if it were Lochlan. Lochlan is in shock and tends to turn off in emergencies. Ben will crash but strangely enough this is working.
We'll head for a walk in a little while, Ben is talking and I'm barely listening again. The lilacs are in bloom. The smell is heady, glorious.
Ben's pretending that the palms of his hands hold great mystery to him. I'm waiting for him to button the shirt. Both arms are through it now and one is in a sling but the shirt. It's wide open. Hello.
He absently pulls the front closed and begins to button. In the middle. The buttons don't match and the right side of the shirt hangs lower than the left. My OCD wants to ask him to fix it and pay attention but my heart is just thankful that he wasn't here the night Cole came over. Had Ben been in the house I imagine Cole would be dead. The only reason Jacob didn't kill Cole is because the police pulled him off. It took three of them but they pulled him off.
Ben blushes when he gets to the end of his buttoning chores. The crooked shirt is hanging to my knees. It looks ridiculous. He tells me I look like a supermodel and I burst out laughing and then I start to cry.
He puts his arm around my good shoulder and kisses my ear. I flinch and squeal and he jumps back.
Sorry! Sorry, bee, oh, Jesus.
He frowns at my accusatory expression and I can see how much this has affected him. He has lines on his face. He's grim. He matches Jake in seriousness. I am still reeling. The boys are heartbroken and angry. Caleb is nonexistent. I'm sure he knows everything that is going on. He's a lawyer. His brother has lost his family and is in jail and PJ has left about fifty messages for him but he hasn't contacted us.
Which means he is reeling too. I have no idea how Caleb copes in a true crisis because I never stay close enough to him to find out.
It's four and half years later and I have just found out how he dealt with things. On one hand I'm grateful and on the other hand I'm really not surprised after all. Even more surprised it didn't come out sooner.
