"Tell me what's new with you? You've obviously been carrying the world's weight on your shoulders. How are you?" I ask him.
His head drops and he lets it hang there, and I don't think it's because he wants another massage.
Then his voice comes out heavy. "I'm good. Work. Workouts. Trying to clean the encampment downtown. Trying to do something good for once."
I frown because it's not what I expected. Not from Ben who usually walks into the room like it owes him a smile.
"Why would you say that?"
He shrugs, shoulders tight. "I don't know."
I move closer so I can see his face better. "You don't know, or you don't want to tell me because I'm a stranger now?"
His head snaps up and his eyes pin mine, steady. "You're not a stranger. You could never be. Doesn't matter where we are in life."
That feels so bittersweet that a smile crawls across my lips, genuine but bruised around the edges.
I tilt my face even more so he can see how much I mean what I say. "Okay, but Ben, you're always doing something. Achieving, chasing, rescuing. You're the last person who should feel like you're not doing enough."
"That's because I hate being alone," he admits plainly. "Loneliness eats my brain alive."
That part I know about him.
We all have that cavern inside that turns hysterical when we sit alone with it too long. Mine gnaws at me at night; Ben tries to outpace his by burning through projects and insomnia that won't let him breathe, but I've seen the moments when it catches him, and he goes quiet.
And when Ben goes quiet, the whole world seems to mute with him.
"Do you still have those days?" I ask softly. "The lonely ones?"
"Yeah. You know I always do," he says, elbows on knees. Then catches himself and adds immediately, "Not always. I mean... sometimes."
"Do you feel lonely even now? You know, in your..."
"My marriage?" he finishes for me when he realizes I can't get it past me. I nod, my jaw tight.
"Yeah," he admits. "It's not her fault though. I think there are parts of us almost no one can reach."
Almost. I catch only that one word and let it land. I wonder if there ever was a person who got past it.
"You're right." I nod. "There are places in me I can barely hold, let alone let anyone see."
"I think it's normal. We all have that dark spot in us, right?"
"Yeah. Totally. You're talking to a pro in that department. I used to call it the eternal night."
He snorts. "You make it sound poetic. It's not."
"I know. Especially when you're just in it. But remember what I told you? Smile and it melts. Everything melts when yousmile."
His head tips toward me and he bites back his smirk. "That was bullshit, and you know it."
"Maybe." I shrug. And then I can't help it and lean in, lifting the corner of his mouth myself. "So?"
He frowns. "Why are you lifting only one?"
"Because you mostly smirk."
That finally makes him laugh, his eyes crinkling with it.
