That person is Ben, and the question is, Do you know what really went on that night?
The garage door is open at Ben’s house when we pull into the drive. Adele Cody is almost hidden by Bounty eight-packs in a stack nearly as tall as she is. She flits in and out of the shelving racks wearing yellow yoga pants and a black sports bra. Her abs are clearly defined, the muscles in her arms ropy and straining like an aging pop star’s, with too little fat on her body and too much Pilates on her schedule. She’s making room for the paper towels, moving boxes of Band-Aids to the shelves above and Brillo Pads to the shelves below, displacing display flats of Carmex and Altoids in either direction.
Ben bumps his head slowly against the steering wheel three times then he rests it there. “Perfect.”
My hand finds the back of his neck, and I run my fingers through his hair in a gentle massage. “Should we go say hi?”
“No. We should have her committed.”
I laugh, but I’m pretty sure he isn’t joking. “C’mon,” I say, and unclick my seat belt.
As I turn to open the door, Ben tells me to wait, and when I look back at him he leans across the seat and kisses me. There is a depth of need in this kiss to which I am unaccustomed. I can feel it in the way he leans, the way he reaches, the manner in which his mouth draws on mine, the grasp of his hands. There’s something fierce in this kiss, something raw and unguarded. Something that says, Please catch me. I’m falling.
After a minute my hands find his face, and I pull back, looking him in the eyes. Six days later, we are forehead to forehead again, but I know him now—not as an old friend with a shared history, but as something much more.
“Let’s go inside,” I whisper.
He glances out the windshield at the garage, where his mom teeters on a step stool, pushing a package of paper towels onto a top shelf. “Can we sneak in the front door?”
I smile. “It’ll just take a second.”
Adele wants to hear all about my dress while Ben hefts the Bounty rolls onto the top shelf, then quickly fills in the rest on the rack below.
“There isn’t much to tell,” I say. “Just found it at Second Sands.”
“Can you imagine somebody letting go of that?” she says. “So glad you put it to good use. Didn’t expect you home so early, Benny.” She pats Ben’s arm, but he ignores the question and continues putting stuff away.
“John Doone showed up,” I say, trying to fill the silence, but Ben shoots me a look, eyes wide. Why are you talking to her about this?
“It’s all anybody’s talked about at work this week,” Adele says, shaking her head. “His daddy’s been on the phone with the door closed for hours talking to lawyers. Margie’s been in and out all week, too, crying buckets every time I see her.”
Ben hefts the last pack of paper towels into place. “Well, tell her to come here if she needs a tissue. We’re prepared for a flood. Won’t need an ark. We can just mop up the whole planet with these.”
“Thanks, hon.” Adele tries to peck his cheek, but he squirms away. “Now we won’t have to worry about running out for a while.”
“Were we worried about running out of paper towels before? Was there some worldwide shortage I didn’t hear about?” There’s an edge of scorn in Ben’s voice.
“It was just . . . such a good deal.” Adele blinks, her eyes smudged with the liner she wore to the gym tonight. “I actually made twenty dollars when I picked these up.” She looks over at me and smiles in hopes of a friendlier audience. “I had a coup—”
“A coo-pon,” Ben cuts her off, mimicking his mom’s pronunciation. “You and your coo-pons. Jesus, Mom. When’s it gonna be enough? The stores aren’t shutting down. We can go buy freaking toilet paper whenever we need some.”
Ben’s anger chokes Adele, and her eyes water. She glances at me, then blushes at the floor. “Just . . . like saving money, I guess . . .” She busies herself folding up the step stool. She leans it against the wall, then reaches the door that leads into the downstairs rec room. She pauses with her hand on the knob, trying to salvage this ruined moment. “What do you have planned for the rest of the evening?”
Ben shrugs. “Watch a movie or something.”
She searches Ben’s face, but he won’t make eye contact. It’s excruciating to witness. “That sounds nice.” She turns and gives me a shy smile. “Good night, Katie. You look beautiful.”
I say thank you as she slips through the door, closing it behind her. I am seized by the urge to chase after her and give her a hug, but I don’t. Ben won’t look at me for a minute either. He jams a stray case of Altoids back onto their shelf. I hear water flowing through pipes and imagine Adele, stepping into a hot shower upstairs.