On an Edge of Glass
connect somehow.
“Forget it, Ellie.” Ben moves away from me. His body quivers. He stops and turns back. His nose is pink from the cold, or all of the emotion, or maybe both. “Phillip,” he says quietly. “That’s my middle name.” Then he tightens his jaw, shifts his injured hand and keeps going until he’s around the corner and I can’t see him anymore.
It’s like everything that’s running inside of me is finally catching up and the only thing I’m left with is a big, hollow, empty space where all the good stuff should be.
Mark is staring. He walks forward until he’s standing directly in front of me. I think about how he saw this coming and warned me all those weeks ago. He could gloat right now, but he doesn’t. He tucks my head into the safety of his chest and hugs me close.
After a silence that feels bigger than the night, I say, “Mark, what about his hand ? He won’t be able to play guitar tonight.”
Mark squeezes me tighter. “I know, Ellie-bear,” he murmurs into my hair. “I know.”
“ So, what do you want to do?” Mark asks gently when the taxi drops us off at my house.
I shake my head. “I don’t know exactly, but I don’t want to be here in case he comes home. And, I don’t really feel like explaining to Payton and Ainsley why I took off tonight.”
He nods wordlessly and we walk to my room and finish getting my suitcase together. I’m glad that I started packing for winter break yesterday because my thundering head and my mixed-up heart are making it difficult for me to think properly.
It takes us a few minutes to figure out the car situation because after everything I drank, there’s no way that I can drive tonight.
Mark takes the jangling keys from my hand and heads for the front door. “I’ll just drive yours so that you’ll have it at my place and can leave for home from there in the morning. I’m sure that I can figure out getting my car tomorrow.”
“Okay.” I fall in step behind him. “Are you positive?”
“Yes. Let’s go.”
We’re quiet the whole way to Mark’s apartment. I don’t cry, but I’m close. My stomach’s churning and complaining, and every time I close my eyes, things start to sway and I think I’m going to hurl.
I finally do lose it when we get to the parking lot of Mark’s apartment complex. I’m puking my guts out over the brittle frozen grass and I’m freezing because I didn’t want to ruin my coat so I took it off.
Like a champ, Mark holds my hair while I throw up. But because he’s Mark, in between rounds he gets back at me by torturing me with stories about the Kardashian sisters because he knows that I can’t stand them. By unspoken agreement we don’t talk about Ben or what happened.
When there’s nothing left and my stomach is as empty as every other part of me, Mark helps me shuffle inside and brush my teeth three times and get into an oversized long-sleeved t-shirt and yoga pants. He scoots me into his bed and then stays there, looming over me and looking hard like he’s trying to figure something out.
My head’s still swimming, but I’m not so gone that I don’t start to feel awkward. “What is it?”
A line appears on his forehead. “Are you sure that you’re okay, Ellie?”
I chuckle. “Well my mouth still tastes like ass and I think my organs might be lying in the grass out in front of your apartment building, but other than that I’m peachy.”
Mark shakes his head. “I meant earlier…”
I know what he meant , I just don’t know how to answer him. I close my eyes and wish that everything would stop whirling. “No. I’m not fine. Not at all. I don’t know when I’ll be fine, if ever.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“I ruined things with Ben.”
“I know.”
“He’s probably never going to speak to me again.”
Mark leans down and kisses my
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