Page 19 of Trial Run

Like yesterday, Ben allowed himself to be led to the van by one arm. Nell’s arm was bare below the elbow, and he could feel the heat of her skin through the cotton weave of his dress shirt. He was barely winded when they got into the vehicle.

“Better today,” she observed.

“I think so.”

“So it’s good I came back.” The words came out tentative, as if she was unsure she’d done the right thing. And he knew that about her now, that she wasn’t sure of herself, of her own strengths.

“Yes. It’s a good thing you came back.”

The smile she beamed at him made his chest hurt.

“This drive will be a bit longer,” she said. “About fifteen minutes to the hardware store, and then I’ll drop you back at home.”

“The flower shop buys plants from the hardware store?”

“They’re not for the shop. They’re … You’ll see.”

They drove in silence for a couple of minutes before she spoke again, seeming uncertain how to start.

“Yesterday, what you said to me …”

“I want to apologize. I pried too much into your personal life, and maybe I shouldn’t have.”

Nell shook her head. “I’m not sorry you asked about it. What you said … It meant a lot. And that’s part of why I had to come back again today. How did you know the right thing to say?”

Ben shifted around on the seat. She’d been honest with him, and he could do the same.

“I could say it’s because it’s my job. That I do therapy sessions all day. But the truth is, we have a few things in common.”

Nell glanced at him in surprise, silently encouraging him to go on.

“You lost your mom, and I lost my little sister a year ago. Leah.”

Her mouth turned down. “I’m so sorry.”

“Well. You were talking about losing your mom, and how it set you adrift, or made you question a lot of things in your life. And I think … I’ve probably been going through something similar.”

“Tell me about her. If you want to. Sometimes it helps.”

Ben gazed steadily out the passenger window. He’d tell her this, and hope speaking the words wasn’t too much for him right now, out here on this bright street.

“Leah was born with a genetic condition. Prader-Willi syndrome. She had intellectual disabilities as well as physical ones, and she lived in a residential facility as an adult, where they helped her out. I used to visit her all the time, and we’d go on walks at least three times a week. She was … light. Happy all the time. She had a way of making me pull my head out of my ass and be in the moment.”

“It sounds like you had a great relationship.”

“We were close. I helped take care of her a lot when we were growing up. She was only thirty-two when she died. She caught a respiratory virus most people would have fought off, but her body was weaker to start with.”

He cleared his throat, which had tightened up. “Anyway. I guess I’m saying I understand your loss. And I wasn’t just playing therapist with you yesterday.”

“Thank you for telling me.” She reached out, as if she wanted to put her hand on top of his where it rested on the seat, but then she thought better of it and pulled away.

Strange, but he felt the ghost of what that contact might have felt like. He’d held her hand the first day they’d met.

She cleared her throat. “I thought a lot about what you said about me the other day.”

“If it was too much—”

“No, it was perfect. But it was a lot. You made me realize how much I’ve let … certain people in my life tell me things about myself. Things that maybe weren’t all true.”

---