What if they weren’t? What if they didn’t? What if he was fine one day, and then the next he had trouble remembering my name? What if I heard a noise, walked around a corner, and discovered him on the floor, in the throes of a seizure? What if he got mean?Reallymean? Or he tried to seriously hurt me, or his parents…or himself?
That’s what he was trying to get me to see. That’s why he wanted me to go home. Because I did need to think about this. I’d been ignoring some of Sophia’s most important advice. I hadn’t gone down every worst-case scenario.
What if things did work out between us? What if they were great for five solid years? What if we got married and had babies and everything seemed manageable and then*boom*his CTE suddenly manifested in some devastating way? Being with him might be so hard on me thatI lost myself too. Was I willing to risk that? Was I willing to endure years of heartache and pain watching someone I loved succumb to a debilitating chronic illness that I could do nothing to control or make better?
Anticipatory grief hit me like a battering ram. It hit me so hard that I realized I didn’t just like him; I was falling in love with him. But love wasn’t the end all be all. It wasn’t some miracle cure. This wasn’t a movie or a romance novel where we could say the words “I love you” and then ride off into the sunset together to live happily ever after. My love couldn’t “fix” Ben. I couldn’t “fix” Ben. Hell, I might not even be able to help him if his symptoms were worst-case scenario.
“You’re right,” I told him.
He wiped impatiently at his cheeks and didn’t meet my eyes. “I know.”
“I’m going to stay until your parents get back, at least.”
“Okay,” he said, nodding.
I hated this. I fucking hated this. I wanted to stay. I didn’t want to leave him. I didn’t want to lose him. If he was only trying to push me away for my own wellbeing, I would fight him more on this, but it was clear that he needed this break as much as I did. Ben had to come first right now. His mental health needed to be the most important thing.
But God, this hurt. My stomach was in knots. It felt like someone had reached into my chest and was trying to pull my heart out through my ribcage.
I struggled to push the worst of the pain down as I rounded the corner of the island and went to him, wrapping my arms around his waist. His own came up and gripped my shoulders, hugging me so hard it was almost painful.
An hour later, I pulled out of his driveway.
I made it halfway up the hill before I had to stop on the side of the road, unable to hold myself together any longer. The steering wheel was cold against my forehead as I cried.
Was this it? Was this how it ended?
Chapter 24: Ben
“You did the right thing, Ben,” Dad said after he and Mom returned from their brief foray into town.
“She’ll be back,” Mom added. The confidence in her voice was absolute.
I made a noncommittal noise. Did I do the right thing? Would she be back? Or did I just lose Ella forever?
God, the look on her face when she walked out the door.
Mom pulled a white paper bag from her purse and handed it to me. “Here you go.”
“Thanks for picking these up,” I said.
They were my new meds. Brian and I agreed it was best to raise my dosages for the short term and then see how things stood after a month. At this point, I welcomed the increase. Staying down here in the kitchen with my parents instead of climbing back into bed was taking all of my willpower. I needed outside help to take some of the edge off of all of these emotions.
A soft whining echoed from the front of the house, providing a welcome distraction.
Dad turned toward it.
“I got it,” I told him.
Ella had done the right thing bringing the puppies back. They would give me something to focus on. When Mom and Dad eventually went home, I’d be forced to get up, to let them out, to feed them, and to train them if I was going to live up to being the responsible dog owner I promised Ella I would be.
Doodle waited for me by the front door. I shoved my feet into my boots and pulled it open. It was snowing again, another dense, inexorable blanket of white flakes falling from low-lying clouds. The snowbanks on either side of my driveway were already four-feet-high. At this rate, it’d be July before they melted.
Doodle didn’t go very far, dropping his little butt down just to the side of the porch stairs so he could pee. The second he finished, he bounded back up them and sped past me into the warmth of the house before I could catch him. Little puddles of melting snow marked his path. I sighed, grabbed a towel, and cleaned up after him.
“Gonna be a hell of a storm,” Dad said when I walked back into the kitchen. He frowned down at his phone, forehead creased.
“What’s the predicted snowfall?” I asked.
