“Again, trying to drive here,” I said.
“Let the record show that you started it.”
“Fair.”
We were quiet for a few minutes, the silence between us stretching and becoming slightly uncomfortable.
“Ben?”
“I’m still here,” I told her.
“I’m sorry you’re going through this.”
I let out a heavy breath. “Thank you.”
“I should have said it yesterday, but I kind of internalized a lot of it and turned slightly neurotic.”
“You’re saying it now, and that’s all that really matters.”
“I hope everything goes okay tonight with your parents. Just remember all the tips Brian gave you for talking about it with them.”
“Thanks. I will. I even wrote them down in case I need some cues to keep me on track.”
“That’s smart. It can be so hard to focus in the heat of the moment.” She paused, and I swear I couldhearher mulling over what she wanted to say next. “So, I was thinking that maybe I don’t call or text you for the next few days. I’m sure you’ll have a lot to process one way or the other, and I don’t want to stress you out by making you feel like you need to get right back to me or dive into things you might not be ready to. Just…know that I’m here, whenever you want to talk or to hang out when you get home.”
“How are you this fucking considerate?”
She laughed. “I could say the same thing to you. It’s part of why I like you so much. You know, aside from your self-deprecation, cooking skills, and the fact that you look like the living amalgamation of every wet dream I’ve ever had.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I said.
“What? With this orange hair of mine?”
I sighed. “My mother really needs to apologize for that one.”
“No way. I’m just kidding. Your mother has more than made up for it with all the times she’s told me how incredibly wonderful I am in literally every other way. Tell your parents I said hi?”
“I will. What are you up to today?”
We talked for another half an hour, her telling me about the orders she needed to get to the post office and the graphic designs she planned for her next wildlife calendar series before filling me in on all the latest Jones Family Drama.
Jacob would be home from Somalia in a few weeks. Charlie hated one of his new college professors. Megan and Stacey were thinkingof moving apartments so they could get a puppy. Anabel had a new boyfriend. Ella tried to enlist my help with scaring the kid if he hurt her baby sister at any point in the future. I was pretty sure she was joking, but I still told her I wasn’t going to be complicit in the harassment of a minor. She called me a spoilsport.
Jane’s article would be published soon, and her editor at the NYT sounded like he was salivating over it. I made a mental note to warn my lawyer about it. He’d either be pissed or super behind this. Either way, I didn’t regret my decision to be her source.
I’d heard so much about these people over the past several weeks that I felt like I knew them. I wanted to know them. I wanted to immerse myself in one of the loud, boisterous gatherings that Ella had talked about. I thought about calling her back after we hung up and inviting myself over for Jacob’s coming home party, but decided against it. I shouldn’t make plans, not knowing what my mental state would be like by then. And that day should be about him. They didn’t need me coming in and distracting away from everything he’d accomplished. Maybe down the road I could ask Ella to plan a big dinner party with her family so I could meet them in a more relaxed, natural way.
I realized that I was thinking about us in the long term and cut myself off, hard. I couldn’t go there right now. I couldn’t get those expectations up. First, I needed to have these tests done. Then, I needed to process the results. My own mental and physical health had to be my priority.
I felt selfish for placing myself above everyone else, still, even after all the times that Brian had told me I needed to, that it was okay to be my own number one. Part of the reason I was in this position in the first place was because I’d pretended to be okay for so long. Big tough men didn’t get depressed. Big tough men didn’t get sad. They didn’t haveanxiety. Especially not big tough famous men. Because public image was king.
Sometimes I wished I could go back in time and shake my younger self.
I spent the rest of the ride listening to the episodes ofStuff You Missed in History Classthat my publicist recommended. In between each, I made phone calls. I chatted with my parents during their layover in Chicago, checked on how the puppies were behaving for Jack, and then called Brian. Together, we formulated a game plan for the coming days. I felt better when we hung up. Like I might actually get through this without completely shutting down or reverting back to my darkest days of depression. The fact that he promised to clear his schedule and jump on a plane if I needed him to had a lot to do with it. It reminded me, again, that I wasn’t alone in this, that I had support, people like him and my parents and Ella and Jack that would be there for me.
Traffic picked up as I neared the city but didn’t slow to a slog until I turned onto Route One just outside of Boston. Who puts a two-lane road with traffic lights leading straight into a city?
Because of the delay, I barely got to the airport in time. Mom called when they deplaned, and I pulled up to the curb just as they stepped out of the terminal. She wore a floral scarf over her hair and huge sunglasses, ala Jackie Kennedy, no doubt worried she might be recognized. It could happen; she was the face of the charity.
