Liz: Ben?
Liz: BENJAMIN
I jab at his name one more time — and then the screen does the thing it shouldn't do: the message fails to send. A tiny, clean line of red text pops up: Message not delivered.
Un-fucking-believable.
In a panic, I flip open Skype. My cursor hovers over his name, glowing that familiar green. I hit “call” before I can think. For half a second the ring tone starts — then the screen goes gray. “User not available.”
I try again. Same thing.
That’s when I realize he didn’t just mean the text. He meant all of it.
Ben is gone.
Chapter 16
Liz, February 29
It has now been twenty-four frustrating hours since Ben’s little “good-bye” and apparently he was serious. I’d tried email, Skype, text… nothing. I was angry, at first. I woke up sad that morning to my sad little alarm instead of a text message.
I tried calling his UK number first — the one he’d given me when he’d said “text me anytime.” It rang once, then went to voicemail. I left a short, stupid message: Ben, it’s Liz. Call me, please. No callback. I tried again an hour later; the line went straight to a robotic “user not available.”
I grabbed my phone and reread his final text message again. What was my reason for not being with Matt? I did not want my reason to be Ben. I did not want him to have that much control.
So I fired off an email, subject line: We need to talk. I wrote something normal at first, then erased it and wrote the truth—short, blunt, no theatrics. I hit send and stared at the “sent” confirmation until the screen blurred. No reply.
One last, desperate try: I opened the app we used for photos and DMs and typed him a message there — no read receipt, no little typing dot, nothing. It sat gray, unread. The silence wasn’t just silence anymore; it felt deliberate.
He left me no other choice. I was angry, I was confused. I wanted to take back control of my own life in some desperately obvious way. So I dialed another number and waited for the quiet “hello”.
“Hi Matt, it’s Liz. I was just wondering if you were free for dinner this weekend.”
Chapter 17
Liz, March 30
31 days. 14 dates, 3 wild nights, and 1 amazing weekend away. I just woke up in Sedona, an adorable tourist town in northern Arizona. I spent the last two nights at a bed and breakfast with Matt. We’ve had intimate dinners, we’ve hiked, and the sex is great.
During the week, life is pretty much normal for Matt and me. I usually see him on the weekends, starting with our hockey games. The rest of the team is starting to suspect something is up, but neither of us has confirmed (or denied) anything. We’re having a great time.
So someone please tell me why I wake up sad when it’s only an alarm clock and not a text message that pulls me from sleep. Someone explain why, occasionally, I whip my head around when the teacher next door who happens to be British says anything in that accent. Actually, I don’t need it explained. Someone make it go away.
To make it work with Matt, I have not mentioned the other name at all. In fact, Matt doesn’t know anything about him. That silence feels dishonest, like I’m hiding a ghost in the closet. How can I value honesty but be unwilling to confess that my heart is still haunted? I keep hoping he’ll just fade from my memory and I can be happy. Part of me feels hurt that I meant so little to him he could just drop me from his life. Part of me hopes it hurts the hell out of him too, heartless bastard.
“What do you want to do this morning before we have to head back down to the valley?” Matt asks, emerging from the steamy bathroom. A blue towel is wrapped around his waist and his hair is dripping onto his face. I’ve been sprawled out on the bed, lost in my own thoughts.
I sit up and give him my best smile. “I’m ready to head down whenever you are, I have no plans today.”
Matt tilts his head, watching me a little too closely. “You sure? You looked a million miles away just now.” He grins to soften it, but the comment lands. “I’ll just get dressed and we’ll head out,” he offers.
I reach out to him and pull teasingly on the towel. “What’s your rush?” I wink and tug harder on the towel, which comes loose. Matt smiles and collapses onto the bed, pushing me down. As he kisses me, I realize this was the problem with that other guy: he was never close enough to actually touch.
Chapter 18
Ben, March 30
??“Ben, can I eat this?” Zach, by far the most annoying of my two flatmates, is holding up a bowl of leftover food.
