It was a Thursday night, and the dentist’s office where I was the patient care coordinator wasn’t open on Fridays. That meant seventy-two hours of pure, unadulterated bliss with Ben. Looking back now,I’d like to say that I had misgivings, that I questioned how seamlessly it all came together. But I was either too young, too stupid or that potently in love.
I’d alsoliketo say that Holden crossed my mind during that time, that the fiancé I had dumped with three sentences on the telephone was haunting my thoughts, the pain I had caused him weighing down my heart. But that would be a lie.
Lying in the grass in Ben’s tiny backyard, looking up at the clouds, relishing quietly in the glow of those first moments of take-your-breath-away love, Ben said, “I always knew I’d know when my true love walked through the door. Period. And there you were.”
I kissed him for probably the millionth time, rolled back over, and covered my face with my hands. “I can’t believe I am doing this. I don’t want you to think I’m the kind of girl who just goes home with guys she barely knows.”
Ben rolled over on top of me, took my face in his hands and kissed me. “I don’t think anything. I know you completely. I’m in love with you.”
I bit my lip. I wanted to say it was crazy. I wanted to run away. I wanted to tear it apart and analyze and find all the ways it wouldn’t work. But I couldn’t. “I’m in love with you too,” I said. “How am I in love with you? I just met you.”
“Because I’m your soul mate, obviously.”
I wanted to say I didn’t believe in soul mates. I wanted to tell this guitar-playing god of a man that soul mates didn’t exist. Only, they had to. Because, here I was, back in my Lilly Pulitzer and pearls, having just dumped the Gucci-loafer-wearing man of my dreams for a musician I didn’t know the first thing about. We had to be soul mates. There was no other explanation for why I would have traded the life I had always dreamed of, thrown it away on a whim.
“Hey,” he said. “Do you want to go snowboarding with me next month? I’m playing this gig in Montana, and it’s going to be awesome.”
“I love snowboarding. And Montana. And you.”
“There’s this bookstore in Missoula that you absolutely have to see. You’re going to love it.”
I turned my head to smile at him, loving the way his fingers lingered on my arm, the sun lingered on my face, the breeze lingered on our bodies. “Holden thought reading was a waste of time and that everything you needed to know could be found more efficiently via webinar.”
Ben laughed. “That’s why you and I aren’t inviting Holden to Montana.”
“Why are you going to Montana?”
“To celebrate my thirty-fifth birthday.”
“Wait. You’re thirty-five?”
“Yeah. How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
I could see his face turning ashen, and I felt a little mean. Before he could begin to stutter, I laughed. “I’m just kidding. Twenty-two.”
He nodded. “Thank God. I don’t need yet another felony.”
It was my turn for the pale face. But before I could get too far into my fantasies of my maimed corpse hanging in Ben’s closet, he laughed. “If you can dish it out, you’ve got to be able to take it, TL.”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “Let’s teach our kids to ski really early so they aren’t afraid.”
“Definitely,” he said. “All three of them.”
I bit my lip and nodded. “I’m an only child, but I have kind of a big, crazy family. I really want that kind of chaos in my life.”
“Yeah. My sister and I aren’t really that close. If you have two siblings, you’ll probably be tight with one of them.” He grinned atme. “I want to teach them how to play instruments when they’re really little. Wouldn’t that be cute?”
I smiled and kissed him. He was the most adorable human on the planet. The way he lit up when he talked about his music made me, quite honestly, jealous. And proud. “When did you get into music?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t even remember a time when I didn’t play an instrument. It has been my life’s passion for practically forever. What about you?”
What about me? I’d always envied people who had some sort of talent that made them feel alive and fulfilled. But I didn’t want Ben to think I was less interesting. So I kissed him again and said, “I think maybe you’re my life’s passion.” And I meant it.
Those three days were the first time in years, maybe ever, that I’d truly felt alive. Food tasted like it was fresh from the ground, the air was cleaner coming into my lungs. The colors were more vibrant. And, as we walked around downtown Sunday afternoon, I realized that I was different too. I felt more beautiful, more confident, more positively glowing than I ever had in my life. I could feel passersby watching Ben and me, able to see our love as clearly as though it was written on the theater marquee we were walking under. And I realized that, improbably, Cameron had been right: I couldn’t possibly live my life without this kind of passion.
On Sunday night, I felt like I had spent a blissful time in Never-Never Land and was having to fly back into my boring bedroom window. I avoided it all day, but, finally, at five o’clock, I ventured, “Ben, I have to go home.”
