Bring Me Back(13)

I smile. “That’s sweet. You raised good boys, Loraine.”

She nods and tears pool into her eyes. “I did, didn’t I?” One tear falls to her cheek, and she wipes it away. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this, but I guess with the wedding coming up I’ve been thinking about my own and the years that followed.”

I get up from my seat and move around the table to hug her.

Loraine is a good woman. She’s always been kind to me, and I know she’s been an amazing mother to Ben and his brother. But I also know from Ben that his father wasn’t always the best. He never hit her—as far as Ben knows—but he was verbally abusive and he says it was hard to watch his mom go through that. I think both boys were relieved when their parents finally split up.

Loraine hugs me back, and I feel her tears dampen my shirt.

When I pull away, she laughs and dabs at her face with her napkin. “Here I was telling you how happy I am about the wedding, and now I’m crying.”

“It’s okay,” I assure her. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

She nods and takes a sip of her wine. “No more tears, I promise.” She crosses her hands and lays them on the table. “Tell me what you have in the works for your business.”

I immediately launch into the details on a big account I recently landed, planning a five-year anniversary party for a local business. I’m sure Loraine is bored by my details on colors, arrangements, food, and other things, but she doesn’t show it. She listens intently and lets me drone on as our food arrives.

Finally, embarrassed, I begin to quiet. “I’m sorry,” I tell her, swirling my pasta around the fork, “I’m rambling.”

“Ah, no, I find it fascinating,” she says. “I never had your kind of drive. I find it remarkable.”

I smile. “Thanks.”

We finish eating and say our goodbyes. I head home and Ben’s already gone for work.

I open the front door and Winnie comes running toward me. When she sees it’s me, not Ben, she immediately turns tail and runs the other way.

I shake my head and drop my keys on the entry table along with my bag.

I kick off my shoes in a haphazard pile. I’ll put them away later.

I grab a bottle of water and head into my office to work. I crank up the music—I hate the silence—and go through my emails. I reply back, answering questions, and booking dates. I still can’t believe how fast my business is growing. Maybe in a year or two I’ll be able to run my business out of a building and not our house.

I open the side drawer of my desk and rummage through it for a new pack of sticky notes. I smile when I find a paper crane hidden among my junk drawer.

I pull it out, forgetting my search for the moment.

I unfold the note and find Ben’s boyish handwriting scrawled across the paper.



“In order to be happy oneself it is necessary to make at least one other person happy.” –Theodor Reik

These words couldn’t be truer. Your happiness is mine. I want to make you smile every day.

—Ben



“You already do,” I whisper, and I am, in fact, smiling. I fold the paper back into the shape of the crane and set it on the side of my desk to add to the growing pile of others. There’s nearly a thousand of them already—I’m missing about fifty, though, plus the days that are left. Ben says he’s written them, and they’re hidden, waiting to be found. I don’t make a habit of searching them out every day. I like being surprised. Sometimes I go days without finding one, and other times I find three in a day. Lately, he’s getting better at hiding them from me, and that’s okay; I always seem to find them when I need them most.

I finish what I’m doing and make a few phone calls. Before I even consider moving my business into a building I should probably hire an assistant. I could use one now so that I don’t have to spend so much time answering emails and phone calls. It would be nice to focus solely on the planning part. I’ll have to talk to Ben about it and see what he thinks. He might be a doctor, not a business owner, but I find his advice invaluable.

I shut down my computer and leave my office.

Hours have passed, and I should eat dinner, but I’m not very hungry after having such a big lunch. A little dessert for dinner never hurt anyone, right? Definitely not. I pile two scoops of chocolate ice cream into a bowl, add chocolate syrup, and chocolate chips. I really like chocolate.

I sit on the couch to eat it and watch TV.

When I’ve licked every drop of ice cream from my spoon and there’s none left in the bowl, I wash it out and head upstairs to shower.

When I get in bed it’s a little after nine and I have to laugh to myself. I’ve turned into my mother—although, she usually goes to bed by eight. Regardless, I’ve officially reached the level of adult-adult where you never go out anymore and you’re asleep before ten. It’s kind of pathetic, but it’s the circle of life.

I fall asleep clutching my pillow, and sometime in the night I feel Ben climb into bed and slip his arms around my body.

I smile even in my sleep.





I wake up to the smell and sound of bacon cooking.

I sit up and rub my eyes, blinking at the clock. Lit up in green the numbers flash 7:10. The bed is empty beside me—no surprise there.