Totally and Completely Fine(26)

“Has it?” I asked.

Time seemed to both speed past me and slow down to a painful crawl. It was hard enough for me to remember Lena’s schedule, let alone my own. When was the last time I’d gotten a haircut? I had no idea.

Probably before Philadelphia.

Months ago.

Two months. Three?

“Have you heard from him?”

I sighed.

“You could always call him,” Allyson said.

She didn’t have to clarify who she was talking about.

I’d been surprised when Ben texted me. The sex had been incredible, but based on Gabe’s and Ollie’s comments, I’d assumed that was part and parcel for Ben. That he did what most men in his situation would do—fuck and fuck off.

Instead, he’d sent flirty, sexy texts. Little reminders of what we’d done in his trailer in Philadelphia. Comments about how much he missed my “magnificent tits” and “gorgeous arse.” I’d responded in kind, shocking myself a little with the way I talked about his cock—“perfect” and “talented” had been some of the descriptors.

He praised me for my “fuckable mouth.”

I’d been surprised by how much I’d liked hearing that. How much his mouth turned me on. New things were being learned.

Maybe I had delivered on the promise of being the best ride of his life.

One day, he changed it up and instead of asking what I was wearing, he asked what it was like in Montana at that exact moment. I’d taken a picture of the snow from the window at the front of the store and sent it to him.

He never sent me pictures of where he was, but then again, I never asked. I let him take the lead, figuring that this was all temporary, that he was just bored during breaks or projects or whatever he was doing now. That eventually he’d stop texting. That eventually this whole thing would fade into a really, really wonderful memory that could keep me warm in the winter of my years.

He always wanted to know what was happening in Cooper. He’d text: If I was visiting, what would we do?

I told him about the fair that still came to town in the summers, about the 4-H competitions and rodeos in the spring. There was the influx of bird-watchers that came with the yearly migration, and people that came to ski and snowboard. I told him about hiking Cooper’s Peak, how you’d get to the top and there’d still be ice from the winter, but everyone would be in shorts and short sleeves.

One night, while I was telling him about the local hot springs, my phone started vibrating in my hand.

A FaceTime from Ben.

I screamed and threw my phone across the room.

It was probably an overreaction, but I left the phone where it was until it stopped buzzing.

The next time he texted—the following day—he didn’t make any mention of the attempted call. I allowed myself to assume it had been a mistake.

Things continued as before.

He kept texting, and I kept responding, but there was a part of me—the smarter, wiser part—that knew it couldn’t continue like this. It needed to stop.

I told myself it was better this way. That maybe I was acting as some sort of crutch for him. That he needed to go talk to other women. Or men. Someone who was within a motorcycle’s radius.

Someone who wasn’t a single mom with some serious emotional repression.

What we’d shared in his trailer had been a moment.

One that I’d moved on from.

That I would move on from.

“We text. There’s no reason to call him,” I said.

Allyson gaped at me. “No reason?” She put her hands on the table in front of me and leaned down to look me in the eye. “How about the fact that he’s gorgeous and sexy and thinks the same of you?”

“I’m starting to see the downside in sharing this information with you,” I said.

I didn’t mean it. When I’d returned from Philadelphia, I had been dying to tell someone what had happened. Allyson had been more than eager to listen, her eyes growing bigger and bigger with each new detail I recounted.

I even shared my motorcycle-riding comment and we’d both giggled at how cheesy and ridiculous and kind of perfect it had been. A part of me still couldn’t believe I’d said it. And then done it.

Allyson had been surprised by my initial boldness. But then again, she hadn’t lived here when I was a teenager. She didn’t know how I’d once been penalized for such brash behavior.

A part of myself that had been under lock and key since then.

It had been nice to let it out. If only for a few hours.

“It was a onetime thing,” I said. “We established that from the beginning.”

Or I’d word-vomited it at him, and he hadn’t disagreed.

And despite the regular text messages, he’d never mentioned anything about seeing me again.

Theoretical conversations about what we’d do if he were in Cooper didn’t count.

“I’m still thinking of stealing your phone and calling him for you,” she said.

I hadn’t told her that the lack of communication was coming from my end. Because I knew how she’d react.

Mainly, she’d be horrified and disappointed and probably would steal my phone.

I shuddered.

It was better this way.

“How was last night’s date?” I asked, not so subtly changing the subject.