Instead of her, he was the one going off to school—for all the people who believed in him, all the people who worked so hard—family, teachers, mentors, and friends. But most of all, it was for Ellen. Always and forever.
The four-year-old was looking at him. Embarassed, Ben wiped his face. His phone beeped: a text from Lilly. R U there?
He texted back, Just sitting on the plane, waiting to take off.
There was a pause.
I envy you.
So you come join me, hon. Least you could do since it was your idea.
Another long pause.
I don’t know, Ben . . . I’ve got a long road ahead.
And what could he say to that?
She texted, I’m scared, Ben. I’m scared of EVERYTHING.
He replied, So come join me at Caltech and I promise I’ll hold your hand.
What if therapy doesn’t work? What if I can’t talk ever again beyond a squeak? I can’t even scream for help.
So come join me and I promise I’ll be your voice. Your brainpower is still off the charts. You have no excuses, young lady.
Another pause.
I may have the brains, Ben, but I no longer have the heart.
Again, his eyes went wet.
So take my heart. You own it anyway.
He could picture her face, and see her eyes moisten with tears. They had spent a lot of time together once she was out of the hospital. At first, the conversations had centered around her: what she needed and how she felt, questions asked and answered, until there was nothing left to tell her. The endless writing seemed to exhaust her. So to fill in the silences, Ben began to talk about himself. And as he talked, she began to answer with an occasional mouthing of words. And the funny thing about lipreading is you concentrate very hard because some words look alike if you’re not paying close enough attention. It means looking intensely at someone’s face. And when you really look at the face, you notice a lot more.
And the more he looked at Lilly and read her mouthed but unspoken communication, the more he truly understood Lilly Tafoya. It was like meeting her for the first time. And talking about himself . . . it was like he was meeting himself for the first time as well.
He confided in her, things that he hadn’t admitted in a long, long time. And as he did, she ceased to be just his little sister’s best friend. Lilly Tafoya became his friend.
Girlfriend?
Not yet.
But like George said, she wouldn’t be fifteen forever.
Ben saw his future. Lilly would come to school with him. If she couldn’t talk, he’d shadow her in class if she wanted. And if she didn’t want it, he’d still be around in case she changed her mind. And they’d get educated together. They’d get advanced degrees. Eventually, they’d go back to New Mexico, where, like her parents, they would probably wind up with jobs at one of the many labs. They’d get married—two ceremonies: one in a church and the other at the pueblo. They’d go to local sports games, take long walks in the mountains, play Scrabble and video games. They’d be on school boards and community boards and make the system better. They’d throw birthday parties and block parties and holiday parties. They’d make a family together, a life together. They’d grow old together.
For most guys his age, this was surely a vision of hell. To him, it was exactly what he’d wanted for the last three-plus years: a chance to live a normal life.
She still hadn’t texted him back, so he texted her again.
I’ve got to turn off the phone. They’re making announcements and the flight attendant is giving me the stink eye.
He was about to press the off button when his phone chimed. He looked down at the text.
I love you, Ben.
A huge smile planted itself across his face.
“Sir, you have to turn off your phone.”
He looked up. The flight attendant, a woman in her fifties with short blond hair and muddy blue eyes, wore a very stern expression.
“She just told me she loves me.” He showed her the text.
The woman sighed and rolled her hand in the air as if to say, Hurry up. He texted Lilly back but didn’t push the send button. To the flight attendant, he asked, “‘I love you too’ or ‘I love you, Lilly’?”
“‘I love you, Lilly,’” she whispered.
“Yeah, I thought so.” He pushed the send button. Once he saw that the message had gone through, he turned off the phone and stowed it away.
Then, for the first time in what seemed like a very long time, he sat back to enjoy the ride.