A Life More Complete(104)
I turn to face her and complete my introduction, “Mom, this Ben Torres.”
Ben extends a hand and my mother loosely shakes it and returns her steely gaze to me. “So, why is your husband not present?”
“I think you lost the right to ask personal questions of me when you decided that you didn’t want your children.”
“Oh, I don’t ask because I’m concerned. You should know that. I ask, because the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” She chuckles a little and waits for me to answer. This is her game. She baits me and waits until I lose it. She knows I’ll make a scene and in the end she will act appalled at my behavior and walk away looking like the sympathetic mother. Not this time.
“Mom, the act is old and played out. I’m an adult now. It won’t work, especially not here. I’d tell you it was nice to see you, but that would be a lie. Good-bye.”
Pulling Ben toward the car, I leave my mother standing there looking far more shocked than I ever imagined.
---Chapter 33---
Ben and I drive back in a quiet stillness that is somehow calming. I’m not sure how to approach the subject of where he’ll be staying. We’ve spoken very little about his plans to return to California. I suddenly feel guilty that I’m allowing Ben to be this intimate with me while Tyler isn’t present. I should feel guilty, I guess. I held his hand, he kissed my head, he held me while I cried. It’s far more intimate than I’ve been with Tyler in months.
“Hey Ben? You have somewhere to stay?” I ask casually.
“I was just planning to stay at the hotel you and your sisters are staying at. I hope that’s okay. I didn’t book a return flight. I thought you’d want some company on the way back.”
“Sure. The hotel’s in the same parking lot with the Cracker Barrel. Can you imagine? The pregnant lady and a plate full of dumplings just a few steps away? It’s been glorious.” I never told Ben that I’m pregnant, so I slip it into the conversation knowing full well that Bob did the deed for me. I let him. He loves gossip and all things scandalous. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Ben, so I let Bob do the unloading. I gloss over the fact that I’m pregnant because dealing with the actuality of what I’m thinking is too much.
“I imagine so. You look good. Pregnancy agrees with you. You okay with me catching a flight home with you? Given there are seats,” he asks again this time with a bit more hesitation.
“Sure,” I answer again, pausing. “Thanks for coming. This really means a lot to me.”
“No problem. I know the death of a parent is hard regardless of your relationship with them.”
The car falls silent again for a few seconds before my need to make conversation takes over. “Do you want to see where I grew up? The town is quite beautiful. Tons of history, beautiful old homes, a river? What do you say?”
“Why not. I don’t have much else planned.”
The night is cool, yet comfortable. The May weather had taken a turn for the better after the wake and the chronic misty mornings had given way to cool, calm night.
We head up Franklin Street to Centennial Beach. It looks entirely different since I left home. The beach still the same as we look through the tall chain link fence. The grounds beautifully landscaped with walking paths and a new stone entryway.
“This is where Gia and I spent our summers,” I tell him, smiling at the memory. “Her parents would buy us all season passes and we’d swim from the time it opened until it closed. When we got older, Gia and I would smoke pot in the back of the parking lot near the ball fields. The best part about living here is that everything is within walking distance. I probably would have left home earlier than eighteen if I had been trapped in a suburb that wasn’t so accessible.”
Ben smiles at me but says very little. We walk along to Washington Street and decide to take a ghost tour that’s beginning near the military statue at the entrance to Central Park. As goose bumps begin to dot my skin, Ben slips off his suit jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. The tour lasts far too long and my feet begin to throb from walking in my heels.
Both of us are starving after hoofing it through downtown Naperville for the last three hours and I settle on Lou Malnati’s. We sit down in the bustling restaurant and like everything in downtown Naperville it’s packed. I order the pizza and know my growling stomach will barely handle the hour long wait for a deep dish and I’m being conservative considering the quantity of people currently jammed into this place. The conversation is easy and we begin to talk about nearly everything.