On an Edge of Glass

forehead.  “Never is a really long time.”

 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
    I’m Alright
     
     
    “Chica, you can’t avoid the place forever.”  Mark pushes the frosted glass door with the heel of his hand.  “I need caffeine or I’m going to lose it.  Like, seriously lose it, so you’re going to have to man up and take one for the team.”
                  “Fine.”  I step behind him into the warm, bustling space where I’m bombarded by the scent of coffee and the sounds of conversation.  I don’t take a visible breath or grab my heart or anything dramatic like that, but I do feel the sharp sting of memory.
                  Mark sneaks a look over his shoulder as he steps toward the line of people threading out from the barista counter.  “You have to see him every day at home so I don’t think you can rationalize us being deprived of caffeine anymore.  And I’m telling you now that I’m never drinking a cup of that heinous stuff from the cafeteria again.  Ever .  They shouldn’t even be allowed to call that junk coffee.”
                  Mark’s right, but it still feels weird for me to be here.  Ever since that first encounter back in October, I’ve been thinking about this place as his coffee shop.  I might have to deal with the real Ben at home but I certainly don’t relish the idea of warring with the ghost of him when I don’t have to.  But, Mark’s right and I know that I’m being ridiculous.  This place has the best coffee in town, and it’s convenient, and I just need to get over myself.
                  I sigh.  “Mark, I said it was fine to come here so let’s drop it.”
                  Mark’s scrolling through his phone, reading his texts, but he pauses long enough to look at me.  “You are completely full of crap and I think that you know it.  But, if you really don’t want to talk to your bestest friend in the whole wide world about Ben Hamilton and your tragically broken heart, that’s okay.  I get it.  Instead, let’s talk about the way that you’ve been acting for the last six weeks.”
                  Six weeks.  That’s how long it’s been since the night that I went to see Ben play at The Hill.  Since I got drunk and stupid and burned everything down.  Winter break was shitty and sad but at least I was able to occupy myself with mailing out law school applications and Christmas and other family obligations.  At least I didn’t have to fall asleep every night trying to distract myself from the fact that he was sleeping one room over, and if I were to take the wall down, our beds would only be about eight feet apart.  Eight measly feet. 
                  I can’t say that Ben’s being difficult or trying to make things harder for me.  He isn’t.  He wakes up in the morning and I can hear him shuffling around in his room or the bathroom and then he leaves and doesn’t come home until late.  Usually it’s after I’m in bed and so the only slice of Ben Hamilton that I get each day is the sound of him on the other side of a closed door.
                  When I do see him, everything is changed. I let my eyes skip over the lines of his face, never settling in one place for too long.  He does the same when he sees me.  It’s as if we’ve come to a silent agreement that direct eye contact is not allowed. 
    E ven without looking too closely, I can tell that Ben is different.  Darker somehow, and disconnected to his surroundings. His eyes are dim and guarded.  It’s almost like he’s wearing a mask, and I think about how I’m the one that put it there. 
    The few times that we’ve been forced into using words, he’s been polite bordering on indifferent.  It’s the indifferent that’s gutting me. 
                  “How have I been acting?”  I ask, shifting the scarf off my neck and draping it over the strap of my tote bag.
                  Mark’s eyes roll back.  “Ugh—don’t act phony baloney.  You know how you’ve been, Ellie.  Moody, quiet, and annoyingly studious.”
                  We both step forward as the line moves.  “I told you that I’m still trying for that summer internship in New York, and if I’m going to get it then I really need to apply myself right now. Last semester I let myself get distracted and I blew the LSAT because of it.”