Nothing.
I look up and glare at Aaron.
The nurse comes in.
I point at Aaron. “This man is his soon-to-be ex-business partner and shouldn’t be allowed in,” I say to her.
Aaron looks surprised. “Ex-business partner? What are you talking about? I’m his current business partner. We were about to negotiate a big sale.”
Right here I know he’s lying. Benny was going to call him and tell him the sale was off. Benny does what he says he’ll do. “Benny doesn’t want to sell,” I say. “But I think you know that.”
“I think you might be overwrought,” Aaron says. “Because I know of no such thing.”
“He’s not selling,” I say.
“It’s already in motion. It has been for weeks.”
“You’re both supposed to be out of here,” the nurse says.
“Come on, then.” Aaron holds out a hand. “We’d best get out of here.”
My pulse is racing. “No,” I say. “If you won’t let me stay, I’m signing him out.”
“You can’t sign a vegetative patient out of the hospital,” Aaron says.
“He’s not vegetative,” I snap. I turn to the nurse. “As Benny’s wife, I demand this man be removed.”
“If you both don’t leave, I’m going to have to get security,” the nurse says.
“Get them,” I say. I’m looking around for something to tie myself to the bed with, or chain myself into the room somehow.
Aaron gives me a smile that curdles my stomach. “You’ll be able to visit to him tomorrow.”
The air whooshes out of my stomach. “Get out.”
He gives me this innocent look. “It’s okay. I understand that you’re distraught.”
Another song, another favorite, comes on my Benny playlist. If only he’d wake up!
And then I get an idea. I grab my phone and take it off of airplane mode. I’m searching a music app.
The nurse has had enough. I hear her voice, “I need security in room 354.”
I find the one thing that I know will rouse Benny out of that bed.
I hit play and crank the volume up. It’s “Alligator Pie,” a Dave Matthews Band song.
Aaron frowns. “What are you doing?”
A different nurse bursts in the door with a goatee and a grim look. “Turn that off!” he says. “It’s absolutely forbidden to be playing music at a volume like this! Visiting hours are over.”
I stay right there, clutching my phone. They’ll have to carry me out.
My heart sinks when I look down at Benny. He’s unresponsive.
It’s not working
“She’s just distraught,” Aaron says.
“I’m not leaving,” I announce over the drone of the song.
When I next look over at Benny, I think I see his lip twitch. I perk up. “Did you guys see that?” I ask.
“You need to turn that off,” Aaron says.
“Benny! Listen! Oh my god, what is playing? Can you even?”
Aaron sighs, like I’m so ridiculous. I glare at him. He has his smug smile, but then he looks down at Benny and the smile is gone. His skin goes chalk white.
I look down at Benny and my heart leaps. Benny’s eyes are still closed, but his entire face is scrunched up, as if he’s in excruciating pain. I’ve never seen such a beautiful sight!
I put the phone nearer to his ear. “What is this, Benny?”
This seems to annoy Benny even more.
“He’s trying to move his arms!” the nurse suddenly exclaims. “He’s in some kind of distress!” She calls for a doctor. She tells me to turn off the music.
Aaron is white as a sheet. “Turn it off,” he barks.
“Screw off,” I say.
Benny’s groaning. “No…no…”
A new nurse comes in pushing a cart. Then two men come in who don’t look like medical staff at all—obviously security. One of them is huge.
“He’s trying to move his arms!” Benny’s main nurse tells the new nurse.
A doctor rushes in, assessing the situation. “Somebody turn off that music! And get these people out of here!”
The nurses are rattling off numbers and medical terms.
Aaron comes toward me, holding his hand out for my phone. “You need to shut that off or I will.”
“Get away,” I say.
“What’s going on, Benjamin?” the doctor asks. “Talk to me.”
“No,” Benny says more audibly. “No more!”
“Can you tell me what’s going on?” the doctor asks. “Where does it hurt?”
“Dave…Matthews!” Benny croaks.
“Who’s Dave? You want to see Dave? Is that it?” the doctor asks.
“Make it stop. Hate…hate Dave Matthews.”
I’m grinning. I’m laughing. Tears might be streaming down my face.
Aaron’s out of the room like a shot.
I’ve turned the music down but not off. Benny’s eyes are slit open. Our gazes lock. My heart nearly bursts from my chest.
“Please,” he mouths.
“Okay, baby.” I shut off the song. I go to his side.
“You trying to kill me?” he asks.
The doctor is doing something medical on the other side of him.
I take his hand, trying not to squeeze the stuffing out of it. “You had us so scared,” I say.
“Aaron,” he says. “He pushed me.”
“Oh my god.” I suspected it, but it still shocks me.
“Police. File…a report,” Benny rumbles.
I look up at his main nurse. She looks horrified. “The man who was just here?”
“Yes. His soon-to-be ex-business partner,” I say.
The nurse with the goatee heads out the door, followed by the two security guys, presumably to get the cops.
The main nurse tells me it’s a good sign that he’s awake, and that his thinking seems clear.
I hang back as they work. They seem to have forgotten about visiting hours being over.
I grab something to eat when the police arrive to question Benny. They find me in the waiting lounge afterwards and question me. I don’t have much to add, aside from the fact that I believe Benny probably called Aaron and told him about his decision to sell. Somehow Aaron got to him. The police tell me they’re looking for Aaron now.
The nurses won’t let me back into Benny’s room after that. The nurse with the goatee informs me that Benny’s resting and shouldn’t be disturbed. I decide to camp out in the waiting room. I doubt Benny’s in any danger from Aaron, being that Aaron’s the subject of a manhunt and all, but where else would I go?
Mac shows up an hour later with a bunch of my stuff and things for Benny. We wait there, camped out.
Benny’s nearly his normal self the next morning. By which I mean, looking annoyed and exasperated with all the people breezing in and out of his room.
The police have Aaron in custody. They’ve reopened James’s case, too—it’s now a possible homicide with Aaron as the main suspect.
I can’t stop touching Benny. I stay for hours. When I run out of things to say, I read Spock Must Die to him. Spock really doesn’t die in it, or more, there are two Spocks, and one of them must die. I’m hoping the real Spock lives. The best Spock.
“I can’t believe you let your old copy with all your marginalia go,” I say after yet another chapter.
“I still have it. In storage,” he says. “I socked away a lot of my old stuff from that time.”
I smooth my palm over his two-day-old beard. “It’s an amazing book. it deserves to be out on your shelf. Maybe it could even be up on the fireplace mantel, underneath the grand portrait of me,” I say.
He’s smiling. He’s urging me toward him. I climb up on the bed with him. “Are you trying to get fresh with me, Mr. Stearnes?”
“Yes, I’m trying to get fresh with you,” he says.
“Do you think that you’re going to get a hand job right in this hospital bed?” I ask him.
�
��I do now,” he says.
I’m just laughing. Definitely not happening.
A few days later, he gets something better than a hand job: a clean bill of health, or as much as he can have with a broken leg, two broken ribs, and a head injury.
The doctor rattles off facts about bones and she assures us that there’s no reason he can’t be 100%. I inform her that Benny would prefer to be 100.5%, and I’m sure she thinks Benny is glaring at me after that, but I know better.
Mac and Alverson and I get him home and set him up in his room. We take turns caring for him, though by day two he’s the world’s worst patient. Spencer stays by his side. It’s not ideal for Benny’s allergies, but Spencer makes him happy.
The two of us watch a ton of Netflix shows and every single one of the Marvel movies. I start experimenting with gourmet popcorn toppings; I mean, I really get into it. I always had to use salt in moderation because I had to keep my performance weight down, but not anymore! Benny sometimes teases me about how much salt I like on my popcorn, but hey! Making up for lost time here!
He’s up and around on crutches by the end of the next week—a difficult endeavor what with his not-yet-healed ribs, but there’s no reasoning with him.
I spend an afternoon at the rehearsal space giving Daneen pointers on how to navigate the strange choreography. She’ll do a great job with my part.
I’m finally getting physical therapy for my knee, and it’s feeling better. The prognosis is good—way better than if I’d gone on that tour. I officially resigned from Gotham City ballet, of course. I’ll always be able to go to classes, and I may go back in the future, just for those classes, but I’m on a different track now. I’m sad when I imagine my company doing the tour without me, but it’s the right thing to do. For them. For me.
In the meantime, Kelsey and I conduct more dance classes in the now-proper dance studio. Sometimes I dance there alone, and every single time, I can’t believe he made it for me.
As the weeks pile up, we’re fitting into each other’s lives more and more. Marriage, dating, and then we’ll think about living together maybe—that’s the joke we make to people.
When he’s fully mobile on crutches, he comes over to 341. We hang out on the rooftop with Kelsey and Jada, and sometimes Antonio shows up. We also go on a few double dates with Noelle and Malcolm. One time we go out to eat with Lizzie and Theo, and that’s the real revelation. Theo and Benny bond like freaks on science topics.
It’s hilarious.
“You’ve created a monster,” Lizzie says during one of our interminable dinners. “A two-headed billionaire monster.”
I twirl my stick around in my bubbly water. “Benny’s not a billionaire anymore. He’s off of that,” I say.
Lizzie snorts. “You guys are so weird!”
I love how she says that. You guys. We don’t even take a car around anymore. Alverson has gotten into buying rental properties.
Kelsey and I are starting to plan for a girl’s dance recital at the ruins. “Anything Goes” will be on hiatus the year after next, and that’s when we’ll do it. We’re showing the girls pictures of the Roman theater and starting to imagine a dance that would go with it. We’re also starting to raise funds.
Aaron is charged with first degree murder and attempted murder. He pleads guilty in exchange for a reduced charge of thirty years in prison. The New York Times runs a picture of him being led away in handcuffs. He looks small and angry in his orange jumpsuit, and I find myself wondering if he’s sorry.
I bring my phone to show Benny, who’s camped out on the couch with Spencer. He holds it in his hand and looks at it for a long time.
“Thirty years,” I say.
He doesn’t have anything to say to that. He hands it back to me and pets Spencer’s scruff.
We take Spencer to visit James’s grave a day later. Benny drops flowers in front of the gravestone while I hang back, holding onto Spencer’s leash. It’s a hot, sunny day—hot even in the shade that we’ve found. Benny balances on his crutches up there, talking in low tones. I’m thinking he’s telling James about Aaron paying for what he did.
It feels like a chapter being closed, even though Benny will probably always keep James close in his own way.
I don’t know what the future will bring for Benny and me, but if we ever have a kid, and that kid turns out to be a boy, I know what I want the name to be.
Benny’s coming back, broken leg swinging between crutches. “Ready?” I ask.
“It’s time,” Benny says.
We take an Uber to Vicky and Henry’s place and wind up standing all together in their sprawling courtyard watching Spencer and Smuckers tear around like puppies.
“They are so out of hand!” I say.
Spencer is a medium dog—quite a bit larger than Smuckers—but Smuckers definitely holds his ground as they chase each other around.
“Can you handle this much energy?” Benny asks.
“No, but Smuckers can,” Henry says. “He needed a brother.”
“To tire him out!” Vicky says.
Benny watches the dogs with an annoyed look that’s really happiness. It means everything to him that Spencer is getting a good home, and that he’ll still be able to see him.
“And you’ll be able to breathe now,” I say.
“Breathing is good,” Benny agrees. “And I’m sure that Spencer will learn to love that bow tie…someday?”
I chuckle. Vicky made him a bow tie to match the one that Smuckers wears.
“Dude, he loves it already,” Vicky says. “Look how proud he is to be wearing it!”
“You don’t want Spencer to feel left out,” I say.
Food and hors d’oerves come out, we sit and snack, watching the dogs. Benny and I are telling them the story of when the portrait of me arrived—the supposedly diamond-encrusted portrait that supposedly cost seven million that Vicky’s friend at the makers studio made.
“She puts it up over the fireplace,” Benny chimes in. “I didn’t know what to think. Seven million?”
“You were having a heart attack,” I say. “It was so hilarious.”
“You were making me suffer!” he says.
I sit on his lap. “I would never make you suffer.”
Epilogue
Three months later
Benny
* * *
It’s a gorgeous night in Mérida, in the west of Spain. A whole group from Francine’s apartment building are traipsing down a walkway past ancient stone buildings under tropical trees. We’re following Theo’s sister, Willow, who’s sure the restaurant she found for all of us is just around the corner. Antonio is complaining loudly.
I’m walking behind with Theo, spinning theories about the intersection of chemistry and microrobotics. Francine is constantly teasing us about having a bromance. I don’t know about that, but he’s definitely a friend now. It was through his connections that I found a new partner. We’re doing interesting things and even considering some collaborations with Theo’s company, Vossameer.
Kelsey and Jada and Mia and Francine are walking behind us, talking about the show we just saw at the Roman theater, the ancient-ruins theater that Francine’s been dreaming about all her life. It sounds like Kelsey and Francine got tons of ideas for the choreography. I have to admit that it really was breathtaking, being there in person.
Noelle and Malcolm catch up to us. Malcolm is sure the restaurant’s the other way. There’s a lot of good-natured arguing. Eventually phones come out. I can see why these people are so important to Francine. It’s really like a family.
We’re technically here helping to celebrate Noelle and Malcolm’s engagement, but they picked this place and made this vacation happen for the benefit of Kelsey and Francine. “Because why not?” as Noelle put it.
I have no doubt that the 42nd Street Twirlers will dance here. Francine and Kelsey are going to meet with a local girls dance troupe tomorrow—they’re hatching a sister dance troupe exchange scheme tha
t everybody is excited about. It’s kind of brilliant. If all goes well, they’ll be hosting a dozen Spanish girls at a fabulous New York theater after they do their thing here.
Willow leads us through some creaky iron gates into a magical courtyard restaurant full of fountains and pine trees and sparkling lights. An entire corner is reserved for our group.
Francine claps. “I’m just so excited! You guys, I can’t believe this is even happening!”
“It’s not happening for a year,” Kelsey says.
“I don’t mean our girls performance,” Francine says. “I mean all of us, being friends, meeting in this beautiful place.”
“Weepy speech alert!” Jada screams. “Do I need to start filming?”
“No, I just wanted to say that!” Francine insists. “And also, love you all!” And then she looks over at me. “Especially you!”
“Double weepy alert!” Jada says.
I go over and kiss Francine. “I love you.”
The party gets underway. Max, the consummate entertainer of the group, has ordered everything on the menu, and also every form of alcohol, apparently. Antonio is speaking to a smitten waitress in fluent Spanish, because he’s the kind of man who can romance a woman in every language. Jada is poking him in the back, giving him shit, and I make a mental note to ask Francine about their history.
Later on that night, back in our hotel room, Francine and I are stretched out on the bed, exhausted from some semi-frenetic after-a-huge-dinner sex.
“Your friends are awesome,” I say.
“I’m so glad you think that. It’s so important to me that you like them.” She lays her head against my chest, and I know that I will never tire of this fascinating woman.
“I want to discover everything about you,” I whisper. “And I want to discover everything in life with you.”
“Same,” she sighs. “I feel like everything good is happening now. Like everything is chocolate chip cookie dough.”
I agree. Except…
“There was one thing that you wanted very much that you never did get,” I remind her.
“What do you mean?” She sits up and turns to me. “What would that be?”
“Well, if you don’t remember, maybe you don’t want it that badly,” I tease.
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