Weirdly, the fact that he got pissed at his mom yesterday made him even more attractive. It made him seem real, attainable. Just like the rest of us, this super famous, super handsome man still got badgered by his overprotective parents.
I don’t have an exact time. Sorry!I texted back.Do you want to try to plan for around 5?
No need to apologize. I know how hectic Christmas can be. Around 5 works. Any dietary restrictions I should know about?
Nope. I’ll text you tomorrow afternoon with a more accurate ETA.
Sounds good. Talk to you then.
Before I set my phone down, I sent Stacey a quick, “He is SUCH an adorable little floof.”, then went back to wrapping presents.
Thirty minutes later, the truck was warming up in the driveway as I brushed the snow off of it. The good thing about nor’easters was that they stuck to the coast. We only got a few inches, whereas Megan and Stacey’s friends that stayed in Boston said they had over a foot at the last count, and it was still coming down.
My hamstring twinged as I reached up to the roof of the cab with my snow brush. I’d decided to snowshoe alongside Megan and Stacey on their skis yesterday afternoon, thinking it would be easier to interact with the dogs. It had been, but in the process, I’d pushed myself too hard to keep up with the girls and was suffering for it today.
Once the truck was clear, I loaded the presents and then climbed into the cab. It was good to know that Jack was with Ben. I’d never tell him this, but I agreed with his mom. No one should spend the holidays alone. Not unless they really wanted to. The radio, TV, storefronts, and just about every form of modern media wouldn’t let anyone forget that it was supposed to be this magical time of year spent with loved ones. The overload was almost cruel to anyone not able to.
For all Ben’s talk about needing to come out here to escape, he seemed happy to have some company yesterday. The pride he took in showing off his hard work, the easy way he bantered and teased, it made him come off as such an outgoing, social person. So much like myself. It was a marked improvement over our first meeting, where I’d done all of the legwork. The fact that he invited me over tomorrow only reinforced my belief that he was in need of some positive human interaction.
Again, I put myself in his shoes. How would I balance my desire for a social outlet with trying to work through a monumental pile of emotional baggage? I had absolutely no idea. My life had been a wonderland of bliss and serenity compared to Ben’s. My siblings were all alive and healthy. My family was uncommonly tight-knit. And I was just now realizing that I had the privilege of privacy, security, and safety that came with being a “no one.”
I wasn’t really the religious type, but I paused for a moment and said a prayer to whoever may have been listening that Ben would be able to take his time and find what he was looking for up here. Closure, or maybe acceptance. Whatever it was that he needed. I prayed that he could find a healthy balance. That no one leaked where he was. And later, once he was ready to go back to the real world, that he wouldn’t be sidelined by TBI or CTE. That he would be free to lead whateverlife he chose to, and that he found peace and happiness and fulfillment in it.
“Amen, or awomen, or aseveralbeings. Whichever it is,” I said when I was done, glancing up at the bright blue sky.
I put the truck into drive and headed out. As soon as things died down, I was going to sort through these feelings and find a way to help, because, like I said, prayer wasn’t typically my thing. In my experience, actually standing up and doing something beat well-wishes and positive thoughts every day of the week. For starters, I could donate to the brain injury non-profit that Ben and his parents had set up in Zach’s name. Another thing I could do was protect Ben’s privacy and well-being with the sulfuric wrath of a mother dragon.
I clutched my steering wheel and snarled.
I am Ella, belcher of flame, safeguard of superstars. Woe be to those who pry.
***
My parents’ house was thirty minutes away, on the south side of the valley. The terrain was more hospitable where they lived, with gently rolling hills covered in broadleaf forests, dotted here and there with farmland. Their house sat on the eastern slope of one of those hills, with expansive views of the surrounding countryside.
It was a bucolic setting in the summer. Their front porch looked out upon a hundred-year-old apple orchard, a tree farm, and one of the northernmost vineyards in the country. My mother was an avid gardener. Her flower beds were extensive, and the smell of them in full bloom was something I still looked forward to every year. The sound of the breeze rustling through the nearby willow, paired withthe buzzing of insects and cacophonous birdsong was the soundtrack of my youth.
In the colder months, that all faded away. Without many coniferous trees to balance them out, the bare branches of the oaks, hornbeams, maples, and apples that surrounded their house were rendered skeletal against the background of dreary gray winter days. I was thankful that last night’s storm had cleared and the sun was out now. It gave me an unobstructed view of the nearby mountains, coated in white.
There was movement in front of the house as I drove up. The dogs raced after a frisbee. Stacey stood nearby, filming their antics with her phone. In the middle of the yard, a snowman came to life under the careful guidance of Jane and my nephews. Their progress appeared somewhat hampered by Willow, who lobbed snowballs at them from behind a nearby stone fence.
The dogs rushed over to greet me when I climbed out of the truck, Corgnelius bringing up the rear. The cute aggression I felt whenever I looked at him was as strong as ever, and I had to fight the urge to scoop him up and smoosh him. Stacey was likewise having difficulty controlling herself. She walked behind him, bent over at the waist as she recorded the way his little nub of a tail blurred back and forth in excitement.
“He is just thecutest,” she said.
Dancer, my parents’ springer spaniel, dropped the frisbee at my feet. I picked it up and flung it as far as I could, not wanting them underfoot when I unloaded presents. I could see myself tripping over one of them and breaking something.
They tore off after the neon-green disc. Stacey continued to film, giggling under her breath. She and Megan really needed to get a new apartment. One that allowed dogs.
“Auntie Ella!” Evan, Jacob’s youngest at just four, yelled in his little boy voice as he came flying around the truck. He looked a lot like photos of his dad from this age, only with skin a few shades lighter and a little less curl to his short-cropped locks.
I had just enough time to brace myself before he crashed into my legs and wrapped his arms around my waist in a vicelike grip.
I gave into The Squeezes and leaned down to hug him back. Evan was one of those children whose parents shouldn’t bring him out in public. He said please and thank you to everything. He had a habit of waving hello and goodbye to everyone. He asked the most innocent, adorable questions. Every now and then he would look at one of us and say, “You know what?” When we said, “What?” back at him, he answered with, “I love you.”
I’d warned Jacob and Sofia that couples probably met him and thought, “My God, what an adorable little boy. Isn’t he so well behaved? We should have one of our own!” And then they went off in their little bubble of hormonal bliss and made a Willow.
I could hear her on the other side of the truck. Her laughter had gained a familiar, troubling edge. A second later, there was a loudsplat,followed by an ear-splitting roar of outrage.
