Jared
He’s still alive.
Still breathing.
Still—
Still here.
23
Emmy
“What’s this?”
Ben’s rasping words make me jerk to full wakefulness. Straightening in the chair beside his bed, I follow his hazy eyes to the wall on our left. Maps and glossy brochure photos cover it, courtesy of the library and the travel agency. The final rays of the afternoon sunlight pour through the open doors, casting the space around us in shades of gold.
“You always wanted to travel,” I say quietly. “So I brought the world in here. Or…. I tried to.”
Ben blinks slowly as he turns to me. It hurts to look at him, at his hollow cheeks and mottled complexion.
But the corners of his lips hitch up, his words slow but steady. “Where are we going, Emmy Marsters?”
Swallowing, I reach for the book at my feet, flipping it open. “I thought we’d start with Brazil.”
“Brazil,” he whispers. A wet, mucus cough rattles his body as he turns his head to the side, and I reach for the water next to the bed. But Ben shakes his head in refusal, lifting his hand just enough for me to know he wants me to take it. “Let’s go, Em. You and… and me.”
His fingers are cold. But his forehead is hot when I reach for it.
I keep his hand in mine as I flick through the pages.
Jared is coming.
The words hover on my tongue, but I swallow them back as I focus on the pages and begin to read.
Just in case.
Several hours pass, Ben slipping in and out of sleep as I continue reading until my voice turns hoarse.
And there’s still no knock on the door.
Ben is dozing when I finally close the book, standing and heading to the front door. I pull it open, just in case, but there’s nobody outside. I step out into the hallway to make sure.
“Waiting for someone?”
Biting my lip, I turn. He’s watching me, his fingers plucking at the bed covers.
“Yeah,” I say finally, closing the door. I move back to my seat, take his hand in mine again. “Maybe.”
I don’t say anything else, waiting for him to ask.
But he doesn’t.
When he’s sleeping again, I make myself a coffee before pacing the small apartment. Ben’s legs twitch beneath his bedding, as if he can pick up on my own restlessness. I run a brush through my hair, clean my teeth again. Run my hands down my dress, chewing on the inside of my cheek as I stare at my pale face and chapped lips in the mirror.
At my scar.
In every imagined scenario I might have had of meeting my boyfriend’s family for the first time, there was never a scenario where it looked likethis.
