Page 62 of Mic Drop

I fiddle with my wedding ring. “Sounds good.”

It takes me a while, but I finally remember where I parked and Bennett gets behind the wheel. Given that it’s before sunrise, the streets are empty and dark. Mirroring my feelings.

We get into the house and Bennett leads me up to the main suite, asking if I want to eat or drink anything. When I decline, he walks me to the bed and takes off my blazer. The one I wore to meet with Dr. Marlow, what feels like months ago. How could it only be hours?

My scrub top is the next to go, followed by the bottoms. I don’t do anything to help Bennett undress me. I raise my arms when prodded. Simple commands are my friends.

“Do you want to take a shower?”

I’m alone. All alone. “Huh?”

Instead of repeating himself, he grabs my hand and leads me into the bathroom, where he shucks his own clothes and walks into the oversized shower enclosure. This time, instead of fun and frivolity, he meets my utilitarian needs. I can’t muster anything more and, judging by his own demeanor, I doubt he could either.

Minutes later, the water shuts off and he dries me off, wrapping a towel around my body. I step out of the shower, and he follows me back into the bedroom. When we reach the bed, I toss the towel onto the floor and stand beforemy husband.

“I love you.” I force the words out, knowing he needs to hear them. Maybe I need to hear them too? Or maybe I only need Ma back in my life.

“Even more,” he replies, pulling my body into his.

Together, we sink into the bed and close our eyes. Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day.

Chapter 17

Jenna

These past three days have been the worst of my life. Picking out readings and funeral cards and food and flowers and a casket. My body seizes as memories replay. I’m not sure how I made it through the never-ending meeting with the funeral director, yet somehow I did, with Kara. Bennett hovers, trying to be helpful, so I let him. Being useful is a good thing, right? I remember Ma saying something about busy work being good work.

But she’s gone now.

I tuck the towel around my chest tighter, ensuring it won’t pop open. Today I have to bury Ma. I snag a few more tissues and shove them into my otherwise empty black purse. From across the room, Bennett says, “I think UC’s PR team has a good handle on keeping the paparazzi at bay.”

“Good.” Even more than at our wedding two weeks ago, I don’t want the vultures anywhere near today’s ceremony.

Despite Dr. Marlow’s assurances, Michelle has been ramping it up against me and the clinics. Court’s been doing her best to clean up—literally and figuratively—yet it feels like a losing battle. Whatever. Nothing matters anymore.

Bennett’s phone rings and he pulls it out, closing his eyes and pursing his lips. I’m awful, but I wish he’d go away. What’s the point now that Ma’s gone? No need to make her happy any longer. “Take the call.”

“I don’t have to.”

Needing quiet, a moment’s peace, I insist, “It’s fine. I’ll be here when you’re finished.”

His shoulders droop, yet he exits the bedroom as he answers the phone. Solitude. Silence. I crave these two little items like a mermaid needs water. When Darren died, I remember my therapist telling me they aren’t healthy for me. Whatever.

Here’s the reminder why. Things turn accusatory fast.

Why did you run off with a rock band—again—instead of watching over your mother?

How can you help your patients when you couldn’t help the only person you loved?

Why did you give into Bennett’s demands to let Ma stop meeting with doctors when you knew, YOU KNEW, someone would’ve been able to keep her with you longer?

These questions and more allegations play on a loop inside my brain. For want of something to do with my hands, I spin my wedding and engagement rings over and over. How does this get any better?

From behind me, Bennett asks, “Can I help with anything?”

I startle at his voice, then force a smile to cover up my true feelings. “Let me get my dress. Will you zip me up?”

He puffs out, wiggling his long fingers toward me. “Ready and willing.”

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