“That sounds like you’re trying to make yourself feel better.”
Ben went quiet, then
nodded.
“You’re right.”
High school Ben would’ve argued.
Adult Ben listened.
I stopped him.
That was one reason I slowly started trusting him.
The other was Mom.
Her name is Linda, and she remembered exactly what he’d put me through.
***
The first time Ben came to dinner at Mom’s place, she opened the door and said, “I know exactly who you are.”
Ben nodded.
She stared at him for a few seconds before letting him inside.
“I know exactly who you are.”
Dinner was awkward.
After dessert, Mom mentioned that she might sell her house.
Ben looked up too fast.
“Why?”
Mom blinked.
“It’s too big for me.”
“You still have a mortgage?”
I stared at him.
“Ben?”
He backed off immediately.
“Sorry. None of my business.”
Dinner was awkward.
Later, in the car, I asked why he’d reacted so strongly.
He gripped the wheel.
“My parents almost lost our
house when I was little.”
“You never told me.”
“I don’t like talking about it.”
I remembered that.
“You never told me.”
***
A few months later, Mom had knee surgery. Insurance didn’t cover everything.
I complained to Ben about the bill one night.
“How much does she owe?”
“Why?”
“Just asking.”
“About $6,000.”
He nodded.
I complained to Ben.
A month later, Mom called me.
“The hospital adjusted my bill.”
“What kind of adjustment?”
“I don’t know. I owe a lot less.”
When I told Ben, he didn’t seem that surprised.
I’d learn why later.
“I owe a lot less.”
***
Ben proposed after 14 months.
We were sitting on my apartment floor because my new couch hadn’t been delivered.
He pulled the ring out of his pocket.
“I had a better plan.”
I laughed.
“Of course you did!”
His expression changed.
He pulled the ring out.
“Rachel, I know
I can’t undo who I was. But I don’t love you because I think marrying you fixes anything. It doesn’t.”
He held out the ring.
