On an Edge of Glass

about a minute of silence, Ben asks, “What are you doing this weekend?”
    “Nothing,” I grumble.   “Sleeping in bed.  Wallowing.”
    “ Not true.”  He’s talking like he knows something that I don’t.
    I open one eye so that I can see his face.  He’s studying me like he’s looking for something.  Suddenly, I’m aware that I’m a disaster.  I’m wearing the yoga pants with the bleach splatters on the legs, and my hair is sticking up in the back, and my makeup’s been smudged away from wiping my eyes.   
    “ Oh?  What am I doing this weekend?”  I croak.
    Ben stands up and takes my hand with him so that I’m forced into a sitting position. 
    “You’re coming home with me,” he states as if I go home with him every day.  As if that’s not the strangest idea in the history of the world.
    I look at him .  I mean, really look at him.  And even though he’s not wearing the mask anymore, he’s still changed.  Like he’s not quite there.  I think that he looks the way that I feel—raw.
    “You’re coming home with me,” he repeats, his voice dropping off at the end . 
    “Aren’t you flying?”
    He shakes his head.  “No.  Since we have four days off, I decided to drive.  That way, I can have my car to get around Asheville.”
    “Oh,” I say , considering this.  Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment.
    Ben bumps his foot against the bed frame.  “So…?”
    “Why?” I ask because I can’t help it.  Sure, there’s a part of me that’s practically giddy that Ben wants me to spend the entire weekend with him.  But, there’s this other part of me that can’t stand to be the recipient of his pity.  If he tells me that I should make the trip so that he doesn’t have to worry about me, I’ll probably die right here on my bed. 
    But, Ben doesn’t tell me that he feels sorry for me.  He looks directly at me and says, “Because I want you to.”
    Want.
    That’s enough to convince me. 
     
     
    One hour into the drive and we haven’t said a single word to each other.  We’ve passed a hundred thousand billboards.  They’re mainly for personal injury attorneys or Jesus. 
    Ben is keeping beat to the music by tapping his index fingers on the steering wheel lightly.  I’m systematically picking the red and purple Skittles out of a bag and popping them in my mouth one by one. Even with the music in the background, the silence feels epic.  This is weird. 
                  “This is weird,” I say, flicking my nails against the skin of my wrist.
                  Ben looks at me sideways.  He’s biting the inside of his bottom lip.  “You’re right,” he agrees.  “This is weird.”
                  I laugh, enjoying the wave of relief that crashes over me.  At least I’m not the only one thinking it.
                  Ben grins crookedly and I catch a glimpse of the dimple.  His hair is still back in the ponytail but a few strands have come loose and are falling down over his eyes.  He hasn’t shaved in a few days and the dark growth only makes his square jaw seem squarer.
    I grin back.
    “How can we un-weird the situation?”  He asks me finally.
                  I crinkle my nose.  “Un-weird?”
                  “You know what I mean,” he says, letting his head drift back toward the headrest.  
                  I sigh.  “I guess that I do know what you mean.  But I have no idea what to do about it.” 
    “Well, that makes two of us ,” he says.
    I let that digest as I take a red Skittle out of the bag and put it gingerly in my mouth.  “Do you think that your mom will mind that I’m with you?”
                  His eyebrows pull together.  “Why would my mom mind?”
                  I shift, shrugging lightly.  “I don’t know.  I guess I just wonder if it will seem strange—some random girl showing up with you for the weekend.”
                  Ben’s voice is soft.  “You’re not random, Ellie.”
                  I feel a little dizzy.  My heart is acting funny—rattling against my breastbone. “I’m not?”
                  He nods.  He doesn’t look over, but it’s like I can feel his brown eyes on me anyway.  I shiver.
                  “If you remember correctly, it was my mom that told me to go back to school early over Thanksgiving break, so she knows