The Measure(72)

Jack thought that he knew what loneliness felt like, a perpetual outsider among his kin, a mistake. But that was always the absence of love. Here, with Javi, it was the loss.

And losing something felt so much harder, so much lonelier, than simply going without.

Jack couldn’t lose Javi. Not now. Not years before he had to. And certainly not when his own weakness and fear were to blame.

Jack looked at his friend and former roommate, tearing up against his will.

“I promise I’ll find a way to make it up to you, Javi, to earn your forgiveness. And your respect. Because I have so much respect for you,” he said. “I know you’ll make the army proud.”





Ben




When Ben met Maura for drinks in September, she had asked him for a favor, setting up a surprise for her girlfriend while they were away in Italy.

So, once they had left for their trip, Ben took the subway to their building, walked up three flights of stairs, and pulled out the spare key that Maura had given him at the previous support group session.

He was expecting an empty apartment.

But as he opened the door and stepped into the living room, he nearly crashed into a woman, gripping a potted plant above her head.

“Oh shit!” Ben jumped back, fumbling his keys in surprise.

“Who are you?” the woman exclaimed, looking just as startled as he was.

“I’m a friend of Maura’s,” Ben explained. “She gave me the key.”

“Oh,” the woman said, suddenly aware of her defensive stance. “I’m sorry, I heard you coming in, and I knew you couldn’t be Nina or Maura, so I just grabbed the first weapon I could find.”

Ben glanced at the row of bright green plants behind her. “The cactus might have been a better choice,” he said. “Extra-painful.”

At that, the woman smiled, her shoulders relaxed. She placed the pot gently back on the shelf.

“I’m Nina’s sister,” she said. “Amie.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said. “I’m Ben.”



Both Amie and Ben had apparently been tasked with assignments during the trip: Nina had asked Amie to water the plants and bring in the mail, while Maura had commissioned Ben for an art project.

Ben pulled out a handful of papers from the poster tube under his arm, spreading them out on the coffee table.

“You drew all of these?” Amie asked in amazement.

She leaned in closely to examine the series of sketches—a divey downtown karaoke bar, a café patio bedecked with string lights, the greenhouse dome at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden.

“Maura’s seen me doodling a bunch of times, and apparently she liked what she saw.” Ben laughed. “But I tried to make these slightly more professional-looking. I was coming in today to take some measurements on the wall, so I can get them framed.”

Amie nodded, piecing the story together. “So, that’s where they met, and that’s where Nina said, ‘I love you.’ I just don’t recognize the place in the middle.”

“First date,” Ben answered. “Maura wanted all the milestone places.”

“It’s a beautiful gift,” Amie said. “And the drawings are beautiful. Are you an artist?”

“An architect,” he said.

“So, an artist who’s good at math.” Amie smiled.

“What about you?

“Oh, I’m terrible at math,” she said.

Ben laughed. “I meant, what do you do?”

“I’m an English teacher,” she said. “No numbers, just novels.”

Ben was about to ask which school she taught at when he heard a frantic knocking at the door. “Nina! Maura!” called a panicked voice.

Ben quickly opened the door to reveal an elderly man, his frail frame covered by sopping clothes.

“Who are you?” the man asked. “Where are Nina and Maura?”

“Uh, they’re away,” Ben said. “We’re their friends. Can we help you?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t know where to go. Maura and Nina are usually here to give me a hand,” the man rambled anxiously. “Something happened, I think a pipe must have burst. There’s water everywhere.” He looked as if he might cry.

“Okay, sir, why don’t you come inside and sit down,” Ben said gently, while Amie helped the man onto the couch.

“Where did the pipe burst?” Ben asked.

“Down the hall, Apartment 3B.”

“I’ll grab some towels,” Amie said, as Ben ran off to 3B.

When he entered the cramped galley kitchen, he nearly slid across the floor. A pipe was indeed spewing water, and a thin layer already flowed across the black-and-white tiles, a liquid phalanx marching fast, invading the hardwood floor in the hall, threatening the carpet ahead. Ben squinted against the spray as he crouched beneath the sink, his fingers feeling around for the shutoff valve.

He found it and successfully stopped the spurting just as Amie rushed in, her arms filled with bath towels. If Ben hadn’t been so blinded by water and adrenaline, he would have felt grateful that he had managed to solve the crisis just in time to impress her.

“A plumber is on his way,” she said, tossing a few towels to Ben, who wrapped one tightly around the leaking pipe. The elderly neighbor had followed Amie in, standing cautiously by the threshold while Ben and Amie knelt down and began to mop up the water.