When I left work today, Ben was waiting outside.
You're going to follow me home? I ask. I'm too tired to see what's in front of me. It was very busy for a Monday. Steady and I did a lot of random tasks that I usually don't do like mopping and scrubbing shelves.
I'm going to drive you home. PJ already took your car. Do you have everything? You won't be back until next week.
I work tomorrow and Wednesday.
Not anymore.
I take what he says at face value. If there's a plan falling into place here on the eve of...of Tuesday, then I don't want to be in the way when it hits the ground.
I have everything. I don't leave anything there. Well, the apron, if I remember to take it off, since they wash those nightly.
Good. He opens the door for me, helps me into his truck and buckles the seatbelt around me. Shades of Lochlan, 1982. I'm almost relieved, as the hectic highway at three in the afternoon is always the last thing I need.
Ben is the first thing I need and after being virtually absent all weekend he is more than present finally. Just when I need him the most.
Need to stop anywhere?
No. Let's just go home.
The whole way he holds my hand and I look out the window at the trees. No radio. No music. No jokes. No conversation at all. Just a comfortable, familiar silence, as is typical in the calm before the storm.
You're going to follow me home? I ask. I'm too tired to see what's in front of me. It was very busy for a Monday. Steady and I did a lot of random tasks that I usually don't do like mopping and scrubbing shelves.
I'm going to drive you home. PJ already took your car. Do you have everything? You won't be back until next week.
I work tomorrow and Wednesday.
Not anymore.
I take what he says at face value. If there's a plan falling into place here on the eve of...of Tuesday, then I don't want to be in the way when it hits the ground.
I have everything. I don't leave anything there. Well, the apron, if I remember to take it off, since they wash those nightly.
Good. He opens the door for me, helps me into his truck and buckles the seatbelt around me. Shades of Lochlan, 1982. I'm almost relieved, as the hectic highway at three in the afternoon is always the last thing I need.
Ben is the first thing I need and after being virtually absent all weekend he is more than present finally. Just when I need him the most.
Need to stop anywhere?
No. Let's just go home.
The whole way he holds my hand and I look out the window at the trees. No radio. No music. No jokes. No conversation at all. Just a comfortable, familiar silence, as is typical in the calm before the storm.