The Words We Leave Unspoken(45)

He shrugs his shoulders and just stands there with those clear, blue eyes locked on my face while our song pipes through the speakers in the near empty bar. My head is trying to catch up to the shock of my heart as he walks toward me.

“What are you doing here?” I manage to say as he sits on the stool next to me. I can’t help but glance at his left hand resting on the bar, noting the absence of a ring.

“Just finished a shift at the clinic. Thought I’d grab a quick beer before going to see my Mom. What are you doing here?” he asks.

I only shrug and turn back toward the bar and down the rest of my drink.

Tony silently brings Ben a bottle of beer and Ben nods toward Tony in thanks.

“Another please, Tony,” I call out.

“Tough day?” Ben asks.

“You could say that,” I respond. I feel intoxicated by the vodka, the song that still plays on the jukebox, and Ben’s presence. Suddenly wanting to lose myself in more than the alcohol. Something or someone that could make me forget.

And as I finish another drink, and Ben sips his one and only beer like a responsible adult; we start to talk. We talk about his shift at the clinic, how he left New York to come home and care for his ailing mother, how it feels to be back in Seaport, and all the things that remain the same in this small town. We talk about him until the conversation eventually turns to me and by this time, I’ve had too much to drink and the words just pour out of me. About the day, my mother, Gwen telling me that I’m fucked up, about Grey. The words continue to pour out until I find myself empty of anger and filled with longing as I stare into Ben’s eyes. The moment is charged as we both fall silent. Ben reaches over and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, his finger grazing my cheek subtly. My heart beats heavy in my chest.

“I never forgot you,” he says quietly. And I am all out of words. I have nothing to say, my insides churn, a lethal mix of regret, shame, and longing. I lean into him slowly until our lips touch and I feel his hand on my face, caressing my cheek. My body thrums as his warm lips work against mine, a familiar taste that sends me spiraling back in time. My eyes are closed and I crave more, wanting to get lost, to leave it all behind. But a phone ringing interrupts the moment. Ben pulls away and looks into my eyes, his lucid eyes glazed with his own longing.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and glances at the screen. “It must be you,” he says.

“Oh,” I say in a daze, reaching for my purse. The ringing gets louder as I dig around in my purse until I find the source. I instantly see that I have several missed calls from my mother and her name is flashing across the screen.

“Hello,” I say, holding the phone to my ear.

“Charlotte,” my mother says, frantic. “I’ve been trying to reach you. It’s Gwen.” As soon as I hear Gwen’s name, my heart plummets. “She collapsed. We’re at Seattle General. Where are you?”

“What? Oh my God. Is she okay? Oh my God.” My thoughts are racing. The cancer. The cancer. Is all I can think. “Mom, Gwen has...”

I try to tell her, but my mother interrupts me. “Charlotte just get here,” she yells into the phone and hangs up.

The phone drops from my hand and I look up to find Ben’s pleading eyes searching mine.

“I have to go. It’s Gwen. I have to go,” I jump up off the stool, nearly falling down on my intoxicated legs. I reach down and grab my phone, stuffing it frantically in my purse and search for my car keys. “I have to go,” I keep repeating.

“Charley, slow down. What’s wrong? Go where? Where do you have to go?” Ben says, reaching for my hands to steady me.

“Seattle General. It’s Gwen. Oh my God. I have to go,” I say again, nearly breathless.

“Tony, can we get a cup of coffee to go,” Ben calls out. “Charley, calm down. I’ll drive you. You’ve had too much to drink.”

I nod as tears start to fall down my cheeks. Ben leaves money on the bar, grabs the cup of coffee and the car keys out of my hand. We walk to my car where he opens the passenger door and I mindlessly crawl inside. Within minutes we’re on the freeway, heading toward Seattle, toward the hospital, toward Gwen. Please let her be okay, I keep repeating in my mind as I sit with my knees bent into my chest, cradling the hot cup of coffee that Ben is forcing me to drink. I can’t stop crying as I think of the fight that Gwen and I had. Please don’t let that be the last thing I say to her.

“What happened?” Ben finally asks.

“I don’t know. Gwen collapsed,” I say. And then I tell him the truth, unable to keep it inside another minute. “She has cancer. Stage four. She’s been going through treatment to give her more time. But it’s not good. No one knows but me.” And this thought brings on a whole new realm of worry. “Oh my God, no one knows what’s wrong with her. We have to get to the hospital,” I say, frantic.

“It’s okay. We’ll get there. She’s in good hands, Charley. Her records are all computerized. The doctors will have access to her chart. They’ll know, Charley, they’ll know.”

“But John. Oh God, John. He doesn’t know.” I feel desperate. Desperate to be there, to be there when they tell John.

“He’ll know soon enough,” Ben mumbles. He doesn’t ask questions. He just drives and places his hand on my knee when I begin to sob harder. The drive seems to take hours and all I can think of is Gwen, and what this means for all of us.