This Story Might Save Your Life(43)
It took him a second, but he gave in. “We’ve been disagreeing about a lot of things, that’s all. Work. Life. Babies. All the usual stuff.”
One of these words was not like the others. “Babies?” I said quietly.
Maybe he saw my face. Maybe he never intended to talk about it. Either way, he waved it off. “Among other things.”
“But you want babies and she doesn’t?”
“It’s not just that. It’s about whether or not we’re … you know. Meant for each other.”
“Oh.”
“She seems to think we’re not.”
“Oh. Oh, man. I’m sorry, Benny. Are you freaking out?”
He nodded. “A little bit.”
“You guys will come around,” I said, perhaps more confidently than deserved. “I’ll bet this happens to all divorce lawyers. Imagine how many people go into her office complaining about the way their husbands, say, clip their toenails. And then she goes home and you’re clipping your toenails, and it’s like…” I paused. “PTSD.”
“PTSD.”
“Post-toenail stress disorder.”
This got the desired laugh.
“She’s married to the best human on the planet.” I bumped his shoulder again. “She probably just needs some time to remember what true love looks like.”
“I think that’s what she’s trying to figure out, yeah.”
We were quiet for a moment.
“Would you mind not telling Xander? I don’t want to talk to him about this.”
I understood. “Can I ask one more question?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Nope.”
“Go on.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
He flattened himself, cheek on the white down comforter, facing me. “I don’t know.”
I mirrored him. His eyes searched my face before his gaze fixed on my nose.
I swiped at my nostrils. “Do I have a booger?”
“I was thinking about the night we met.”
“Did I have a booger then?”
He smiled and shook his head, infinitesimal movements rustling the fabric.
I waited. When he didn’t continue, I said, “What about it?”
“You were so you.”
I scrunched my boogerless nose. “I hope this ends in a compliment.”
“That is the compliment,” he said quietly. “There is no bigger compliment.”
My heart fluttered. “Weird. That’s basically what I thought of you.”
We stared at each other for so long my eyes grew heavy. The next thing I remember is the snare drum. It became the backbeat of my dream, a sharp staccato tap tap tap as Benny and I danced to rock songs at the Echo. Someone nudged my shoulder, and I told them to go away, and then the shouting began. It took a second to understand I was no longer dreaming. When the voices finally registered with the waking part of my brain, Xander and Benny were at each other’s throats.
“She was looking for you.”
“On your bed?”
“You’re kidding, right? She has narcolepsy. She fell asleep. Would you rather she sleep on the floor?”
“Don’t be an ass.”
“Then don’t come in here making stupid accusations. Maybe Joy wants a minute without you. So what?”
I was too disoriented to step in. Was that my Benny with the balled fists and beet-red face? I almost laughed because no, it couldn’t be, my best friend didn’t lose his cool. When Xander led me from the room a few minutes later, I tried catching Benny’s eye. I wanted to wink at him, or exchange some other meaningful glance to show him I was on his side, but he was already facing the window, staring out at the moonless night.
“I couldn’t find you,” Xander said when we were alone in the hallway. His tone was quieter now, more guarded. “I was worried.”
Still coming out of my fugue, I said, “I ate half a cheeseburger.”
Our room was four doors down. He swiped us in with the hotel card, shut himself in the bathroom, and didn’t come out for an hour.
I thought often about that night over the next few weeks. I wanted to follow up with Benny, ask if there were any developments between him and Luna, but I found it difficult to secure any time alone with him. We were busy, yes, but my husband was always, always around and I wanted to honor Benny’s request to not discuss the problem in front of him. The more time passed, the more obvious it was: he wasn’t happy. He managed to go onstage and be funny, but I could see the heartache brewing beneath the surface.
I confronted him about it before our last show during a rare ten minutes alone.
Ten minutes that turned my world upside down.
Benny Abbott
Day Three
I return home after midnight and wake at sunrise to Richie licking my face. From the foot of the bed, Potsie stares at us with disappointment, as if he can’t believe he’s still here. I coax him toward me and rub his floppy ears. “We’ll find her,” I whisper.
I check my phone and am again overwhelmed by the influx of messages across all communication channels—DMs, texts, links to articles and videos with ever more far-fetched theories as to where Joy and Xander might be or what might have happened. There are tearful TikTok posts with hundreds of thousands of likes. I have no fewer than thirty requests for a public statement.