On an Edge of Glass

look at me.  He won’t.  He keeps his hands at his sides and his eyes trained in the opposite direction.  When we’re in the hall by the front door, his mom pulls him aside and says something to him that’s too low for me to hear.  He blinks and nods his head once as he clasps and unclasps his hands in front of his chest.
                  I look down so that he doesn’t catch me staring.  I chew the inside corner of my lip, and squeeze the handle of my suitcase until I can’t feel my fingers anymore.
    Logan and Blake are rese rved when it comes to goodbye, but Kyle is easier.  He gives me a high-five that turns into a hug.  Asher is next.  Grinning widely and holding me for a beat too long, he slips his cell phone number into the back pocket of my jeans.  When I peek at it, I see that he’s drawn a little sideways smiley face next to his name.  I laugh and shake my head at him. 
    Lisa comes up and wraps her arms around my shoulders.  She pulls back a few inches and searches my face.  There’s so much in her eyes and her creased forehead that I start to wither.  Quickly, like she’s deciding something, she kisses my cheek and pats my shoulder.
                  The front door opens, and almost before I’ve taken a proper breath, we’re in Ben’s car headed back to school.   
    What is the protocol for this situation?
                  What should I say?
                  Am I supposed to say anything at all?
    Or is it best to keep quiet, and stay drawn together in my seat, staring out the passenger window like none of it matters?  Like my head isn’t falling off my body?
                  The stereo plays music.  The car engine rattles softly.  Ben and I continue to stay silent.
    I look out at the cloudless blue of the sky and think about how I’m growing accustomed to the hollowness inside of me.  It’s almost like it belongs there.
                  After awhile—nearly half the trip—Ben exits the interstate and pulls the car into a gas station.  He doesn’t say anything, just pops the lid of the gas tank and steps out of the parked car.  I go inside, using the opportunity to go to the bathroom and buy some snacks. 
                  The woman behind the counter hands me a chintzy plastic bag and three thin paper napkins along with my change.  I take the bag and shove the change into the inside pocket of my purse.  As I exit the gas station, a man wearing a cowboy hat and scuffed up work boots holds the door for me. 
    Hesitantly, I walk up to the car.  Ben is leaning back against the driver’s side door with one hand resting on the hood and the other in his pocket.  His warm breath is visible in the cold February morning air.  
    Like a peace offering, I hold out a bottle of water and a bag of those pretzel chips that he likes so much.  Ben pauses as he reaches for the bag almost like he’s being careful not to touch my fingers.  He rewards me with a wan smile.
                  We climb into our respective seats and then we’re back on the road and back to the nothingness.
                  Seven long minutes later, when I don’t think I can take one more second of this without pulling my hair out, I speak.  I use a voice that doesn’t sound like mine.  “Do you want to talk about it?”  I ask.
                  Ben starts to shake his head then thinks better of it and stops.  He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and flicks a sideways look at me.  “I guess so.” 
                  But neither of us says anything.  We drive a few more miles in a strange sort of quiet.
                  “Last night,” he says finally, releasing the tightness in his jaw.  “It was…”
                  I sit up.  “It was—”
                  “Let me finish,” he says rigidly.
                  “Okay…”
                  Ben loosens his muscles.  Absently, he scratches just below his chin and tucks his hair back.  He swallows hard.
                  “It’s just that this is embarrassing, but I need to say it.”  He gives me a sheepish smile.  I take it and return it.  “Last night, I don’t know what I was thinking when I came to see you.  I meant to just talk to you, and—and one thing led to another…  Honestly, I think I had too much to drink when we were at