Hannah’s eyes widen. “Um, no, I hadn’t really thought about that.”
Chloe shakes her head. “I will never understand you. You’re hot, Hannah, in that nerdy-cute kind of way. Guys dig that. Embrace it. Get some lovin’.”
Hannah wiggles uncomfortably in her seat. “Yeah, no thanks.”
Casey wraps her hands around her coffee mug. The dark liquid is probably cold by now, but she sips at it anyway. “I broke up with James.” We all grow quiet. “What?” She looks at each of us and waves a hand. “You guys knew it was bound to happen. Sooner’s better than later, right?”
“Well, yeah,” I say slowly, “but how are you feeling about it?”
“Fine.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal. “It’s not important.” When we all continue to stare at each other, she huffs. “You all knew it wasn’t going anywhere with us—in fact, you’ve all on more than one occasion urged me to break up with him, so what’s the big deal?”
“You didn’t say anything,” Chloe says softly.
“I didn’t think I should, not with …” she trails off, but I already know what she was going to say.
Not with Ben gone.
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “My life is on pause, but I know no one else’s is. Please don’t treat me like broken glass. It only makes this harder for me.”
Casey nods. “I’m sorry, I should have said something, but it only happened a week ago and it’s not like we’ve all been able to get together.”
I know her excuse is a feeble one, but I don’t bother calling her on it. I don’t have the energy. I take a few bites of my sandwich for manners sake, and push away from the table.
“Well, it was good seeing you guys, but I need to go.” I stand up from the table.
They take turns hugging me and say goodbye.
As promised, my mom and dad are still waiting outside in the car.
“How’d it go, Kid?” my dad asks when I slide into the back and begin buckling my seatbelt.
“Surprisingly well,” I answer.
He smiles in the rearview mirror. “Good. Here’s that sticker.”
I actually laugh when he passes back a gold star sticker. “Thanks, Dad,” I say and stick it on my shirt.
He smiles and nods. He’s pleased, and I’m happy that he’s happy. My mom looks happy too. I know I’ve scared her the last few weeks. It’s been hard adjusting to life without Ben and I know this isn’t even the half of it. The storm is only beginning.
“I can’t find my pen,” I shout at no one in particular. I’m in my office trying to catch up on work and my mountain of emails is out of control. I’m so overwhelmed, and this is just adding to my stress. I can’t take much more. I’m losing my mind.
“What’s wrong?” my mom asks, standing in the doorway of my office.
“I can’t find my mother-fucking pen,” I yell, slamming my hands on my desk.
“Blaire—” I begin to sob. “Blaire,” she says again, taking a hesitant step into my office. “What’s really going on?”
I cover my face with my hands and wail. I’m pretty sure this is my soul crying. I never knew that was a thing until today. I can’t believe my mom hasn’t figured out what today is.
I wipe at my face. I know it’s bound to be red and splotchy. I point to my desk calendar even though she can’t see it from where she stands. “We were supposed to get married today,” I croak.
Her mouth parts in a surprised O shape. She forgot. Ben hasn’t even been gone a month yet and she already forgot our wedding day. He’s gone, so suddenly today doesn’t mean anything to anyone else.
“I’m so sorry, B,” she says, coming around my desk to hug me. I don’t want her hug, but I do at the same time. It’s a weird feeling—feeling like you want someone to hold you together, but wanting to fall apart at the same time. “I’m sorry,” she says again as she holds me. “God, I wish you didn’t have to go through this.”
“I wish no one ever had to feel this kind of pain.” My voice cracks when I speak. My throat is raw and sore from so much crying and screaming.
“Me too, sweetie.” She lets me go and looks me over. “I’m going to make you some homemade soup. How about that? Your favorite—broccoli and cheese?”
I’m not hungry, and the thought of food makes me want to throw up, but I nod anyway. I know she wants something to do besides sit around while my dad watches sports. “Sure, yeah, that’d be great.”
She smiles. “I’ll go to the grocery store, is there anything else you want?”
I think. “Fruit roll-ups,” I say. I don’t know why I ask for that, of all things. I haven’t eaten any in years, but right now it sounds like the best thing ever.
“Okay. Anything else?”
“I don’t think so.”
She starts for the door, but turns back. “Is that the pen?” She points at one lying five inches to my right.
I look at the pen—studying the slender barrel. “Yeah, that’s the one.” I sigh.