Waiting for Patrick

by Brynn Stein

  “Good ole Sheri skepticism,” Elliot grumbled. “He appeared to me in my dreams. Previous dreams had just been from his point of view. In this one he was there and he and I actually talked. It wasn’t a memory this time.” When Sheri just stared at him, he added, “Sheri, honest to God.” Elliot put his hand over his heart. “I talked to Ben last night.”

  “You dreamt of Ben last night. There’s a difference.”

  “Really? After the whole saving-my-life thing and the flier on my bed, and the dreams that match up with real information that I couldn’t possibly know if Ben wasn’t telling me, you still don’t believe in him?” Elliot was getting a little upset by this, even though it was a typical Sheri reaction. He started drumming his fingers on the table in frustration.

  “I’m basically a skeptic, Ellie. You know that.” She reached over and covered Elliot’s moving fingers with her own, stopping the drumming.

  “Yeah, Cher. I know.” He slipped his fingers away from hers but made an effort not to start the nervous habit again. “But there’s a difference between being cynical in the absence of proof and entirely disregarding hard facts.”

  “I believe you believe it. Is that good enough?”

  Elliot scrunched up his nose in disgust. Now he knew how Daniel must have felt when Elliot said that to him. “Only if you believe Malcolm and Darrell believe it too.”

  Sheri chuckled. “It’s Darrell again now?” She picked up her coffee cup, no doubt thinking the danger of shocking conversation had passed.

  Elliot shrugged. “I’m feeling better. I like the running joke.” He saw through her ploy to completely steer the conversation away from Ben, but he’d allow it. For now.

  Sheri grinned and sipped her coffee. “I think it worried him that you were calling him Daniel, actually. He’ll probably be pleased. Have you heard from him since you’ve been out of the hospital?”

  “Since yesterday?” He grinned. She really was going to steer the conversation as far away from the ghost as possible.

  “Yes.” She nodded, abandoning her coffee in favor of the blueberry muffin she’d ignored. “Since yesterday.”

  “We’ve been texting, but he hasn’t come over. It’s not like I’m really ready for the one activity we have in common, anyway.”

  “He would give you more than sex.” Sheri looked like she was going to preach to him again, and Elliot gave her his best don’t look. As usual she seemed totally immune. “If you’d let him.”

  Elliot’s smile disappeared abruptly; he tried a less subtle approach. “Don’t start, Sheri. I don’t do relationships. You know that.”

  “Well, yeah, but that’s because you haven’t found the right person.” She happily nibbled on her muffin, totally unaware that he was considering exactly which painful death he would inflict on her if she didn’t quit this topic of conversation.

  “And you think Daniel’s the right person?” He slammed the muffin to the table and cinnamon puffed above it, as if even it was disgusted by the subject. “He’s a nice enough kid and the sex is great, but he’s half my age.”

  “He’s twenty-six.” She sipped her coffee. “That’s hardly half of forty-one, no matter what I said when you first met him. I got to know him a little at the hospital. He really cares for you.”

  “That doesn’t matter, Sheri. I’m not getting into a relationship with Daniel or anyone else.” He pressed his hands against the table, trying desperately not to tap his fingers again or worse, ball them into fists.

  “Why not?” She raised her voice, abandoning all pretense of nonchalance. “Why not, Ellie? What would be so bad about settling down?”

  “Drop it, Cher.” He didn’t growl. It was very close, but he managed not to do it.

  “But, Elle—”

  Elliot stood up suddenly. “Drop it, or I leave.”

  Sheri’s eyes widened and she reached for Elliot’s hand. “Okay.” She lowered her voice but grabbed his wrist and wouldn’t let go. “Okay, Ellie. It’s dropped. Please sit back down.”

  Elliot stood there, not answering, not sitting, but not moving away.

  “Please, Elle. I’m sorry.” She really did seem to be. She could be annoying when she got something into her head, but Elliot knew she meant well.

  He finally, slowly sat back down, but made a show of disengaging Sheri’s hand from his wrist and moving it away from him, back toward her side of the table.

  “I didn’t know you felt that strongly about it,” she risked, adding, “I want you to be happy—” She must have noticed his eyes flash in anger again, as Elliot had meant her to, because she hurried to finish her sentence. “—but if settling down is not what would bring you happiness, then I’ll leave that alone.” When he didn’t seem to relax, she added, “I promise.”

  “Okay,” Elliot finally choked out. “Please do.” He thought about how long it was going to take him to track down all the remnants of the ruined muffin, but it would be worth it. Something about throwing the muffin to the table had been very satisfying.

  “HEY, BEN.” Elliot and Ben are standing at the window, looking out over the yard, just enjoying each other’s company. “You know, I don’t think Sheri is going to believe in you.”

  Ben wraps his arm about Elliot’s shoulders, and Elliot doesn’t even think it should feel weird. “Is that important to you?”

  Elliot contemplates the question, then turns to face him. “Yeah. I think it is.” He looks back out the window. “She knows I’m pretty practical. I’m not likely to decide there’s a ghost in the house if there’s any other explanation.” He warms to his subject and turns toward Ben, cocking a hip on the windowsill. “And there’s all this proof that she’s completely ignoring.” He’s getting upset, even in his dream. “My God, Ben. You saved my life. And you made that flier….” Elliot thinks of something he has been wanting to ask since they found it. “How did you learn to use a laptop at all? Not to mention using it to make something like that.”

  Ben chuckles and reaches out for Elliot, slinging his arm around him again so that they both turn to face the yard. “There were teenagers in the house with the last family. I watched them do it.”

  Elliot leans into Ben and laughs. “Yeah, I guess that would explain it.”

  ELLIOT WOKE gasping. Not this again. He put his hand on his chest. His heart was beating a little fast, but he couldn’t hear it pounding in his ears. He looked over to his nightstand and scooped up the armload of bottles he needed just for the morning meds; he started opening them. He hated needing so much medicine, but it was better than another heart attack, and it might keep him from needing surgery. Once he had the meds sorted out, he shuffled to the bathroom for water. He could dry swallow one or two pills—he’d often done that with ibuprofen—but not that many.

  After he took his meds, he finished the rest of his morning grooming routine, then headed toward the kitchen. Once there, he put two frozen waffles in the toaster and pulled out his laptop and phone. Plugging the computer into his personal hotspot, he readied it for some research he wanted to do today. As he stood drinking his coffee, something brushed his cheek and he smiled into the touch.

  “Good morning, Ben,” Elliot mumbled, and a thought hit him. He opened a Word document and tapped the keys lightly. “Hey, it occurred to me that if you can make a flier, maybe we can talk like this during the day.” He wasn’t sure he even expected an answer.

  Slight taps came from the keyboard even as his own hands wrapped around the coffee mug.

  h i typed itself across the screen.

  Elliot took in the scent of the coffee and smiled at the screen. “It’s not as good as seeing you, but it’s something.” He looked around the kitchen, wishing again he could see Ben there. “What do you think?”

  g o o d was the hesitant reply.

  “Are you going to give one-word answers all day?” Elliot smiled, teasing Ben. He grabbed the waffles when they popped up, got the syrup down from a cabinet, and took both to the table.

  p
r o b a b l y came the reply, excruciatingly slowly.

  “Really? Why?”

  h a r d

  Elliot wasn’t sure what Ben meant. “It’s hard to type?” Elliot covered the waffle in syrup and cut off a bite.

  lots energy

  “It takes lots of energy, but you were willing to make that welcome-home flier for me?” Elliot was touched. He jabbed the waffle-covered fork into his mouth.

  yes

  “Why?”

  like u

  Elliot chuckled. “I like you too.” He stabbed another bite of his waffles, then asked, “Is this going to work as communication, then?” Technically he was still alone in his kitchen, and if anyone else had been there, they would have sworn he was losing his mind. But he liked knowing he could talk to Ben now. And that Ben could talk back.

  Sort of

  Elliot smiled. “Dreams are still better.” Syrup from the waffle dribbled onto his chin when he spoke. He jumped up and went to the counter to get a paper towel. After he wiped away the syrup, he sat down again, dabbing at his shirt to rid himself of the spot of syrup that had landed there.

  Yes

  “Hey, I have some plans for the house. You want to take a look? Tell me what you think?”

  More and more over the next week, Elliot incorporated Ben into his waking life as well as dreaming about him every night. He and Ben could talk more easily and about a wider variety of things than he had ever been able to do with anyone before, even Sheri. He felt connected to Ben in a way he never thought possible.

  BY THE time Elliot had been out of the hospital for a full week, he was starting to reclaim his life. He resigned himself to contracting out the more physical jobs that he originally wanted to do himself, even though he knew he was going to have to pay through the nose to get what he wanted. But he kept many of the smaller jobs and vowed to create a sane schedule for doing them.

  The various contractors had already started, and the house was a mess. He wouldn’t label himself a neat freak, as Daniel had insinuated, but he did prefer order to chaos. It was the part of the remodeling that usually drove him to a hotel. He didn’t want to do that this time, though. From his business trip to Chicago and his stay in the hospital, he suspected that Ben would not be able to visit him if he didn’t sleep in the house. To be sure he asked Ben during a dream. Ben confirmed it, so Elliot tried to keep the master bedroom in as much order as possible and vowed to stay.

  He busied himself with the smaller projects, cutting and putting up the molding in various rooms of the house, painting the window fixings, staining the porch. Ben still insisted that he had no claim to the house or say in the repairs, but he wanted to help Elliot with anything he did.

  The first time the paint can moved closer to him by itself, Elliot turned around quickly, startled. In the process he flung the paint-covered brush backward and got white paint all over a nearby throw rug, the hardwood floor, and two different walls.

  “Geez, Ben,” Elliot squeaked. “Warn a person.” But he enjoyed knowing Ben was in the room, lending a hand. Albeit an invisible one.

  It became routine for Ben to help. He would move a tool in slow, lurching jerks, toward Elliot when he needed it while working on a small project. He never did it if there was anyone else around, but Elliot liked it. It made him feel like he and Ben were working on the project together. He wasn’t sure why that was so important to him. But it was. It felt unbelievably domestic, and if it was anyone else, he’d have run from that feeling. With Ben, though, it felt great. It felt right.

  ON THE second Thursday after Elliot got out of the hospital, Daniel appeared at his door. They’d been texting, so it wasn’t completely out of the blue, but it wasn’t planned.

  “Come out with me tonight,” Daniel said as soon as Elliot opened the door.

  Elliot leaned against the doorjamb. “Well, hello, Darrell. How have you been? How is your day going?”

  Daniel brushed past Elliot and closed the door. “Come on, Ellie. It’s one night.”

  Elliot waved Daniel into the living room. “I’m supposed to take it easy.”

  Daniel smiled and playfully cuffed his shoulder as he passed him, then flung himself sideways into the overstuffed armchair. “Taking it easy does not mean not taking it at all.” Daniel waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

  Elliot crossed his arms and tried to look stern. “If we were to go there, it wouldn’t be me taking it.”

  Daniel swung his legs over the arm of the chair, as he was wont to do anytime he visited. “Yeah, well, I’ll let you try to prove that later, old man. But all I’m asking for at the moment is for you to come out to the club with me. Nurse a coke. Dance a couple of slow dances. Nothing unsafe for the ticker.”

  Elliot actually thought about it. “I don’t know.” Elliot slid into his recliner.

  “Call Sheri and Malcolm,” Daniel suggested. “We’ll make it a double date.”

  “I don’t date.” Elliot slammed the handle on the chair that would rocket him into a reclined position, but whether to put literal distance between him and Daniel or just out of habit he couldn’t have said.

  “Okay,” Daniel agreed hurriedly. “Let’s make it four friends enjoying a night on the town together.” When Elliot did nothing but continue to scowl, Daniel added, “Come on, Elliot. You can’t stay cooped up in this house and give up everything even remotely like living. You have a heart condition. So you’ll be careful. You’re not dead. Stop acting like it.”

  Elliot glared.

  “Come on. One night out. I’m not asking for anything more than that.” Daniel leaned forward until his elbows were on his knees. “If you want sex, you know I’m always up for it.” He looked down into his lap. “Almost literally.” He smiled at Elliot, but the joke had fallen flat. “But if you don’t want that, that’s fine. I know we’re not dating. I know you don’t do relationships. Come out and have some fun with friends.” He dropped his head onto his hand. “That’s all I’m asking.”

  Elliot finally looked at Daniel. “That’s all, huh?”

  Daniel wiggled his eyebrows again in answer, and Elliot did laugh that time. He gave careful consideration to what Daniel had said. It had been a while since he was out with his friends. Sheri and Malcolm came over at times, and he’d met her in the diner a time or two since he’d been home. But he hadn’t left the house much more than that.

  “Okay,” Elliot finally said. He found himself actually looking forward to it.

  “Fantastic.” Daniel smiled and leapt to his feet. “Get your coat.”

  “What, now?” Elliot returned the recliner to its upright position.

  “Why not?” Daniel held out a hand to help him stand.

  Elliot batted it away and stood on his own. He considered it again and couldn’t find a reason not to agree. “Okay.”

  He went to get his jacket.

  THE NIGHTCLUB wasn’t as noisy as it had been the first time Elliot was there.

  “I can actually hear myself think tonight.” He still had to project his voice to enable Sheri and Malcolm to hear him across the little wooden table in the back corner of the room.

  Sheri leaned forward. “It’s because it’s a weeknight.” For a moment, Elliot was afraid she’d fall out of the low-cut top of her tight pink-and-black dress.

  “Still an awful lot of people here.” Malcolm seemed even more ill at ease than Elliot did.

  Elliot remembered that Sheri said Malcolm never went to nightclubs. He could see why now. The poor man was squirming around uncomfortably and looked like he would spontaneously combust.

  Sheri patted Malcolm’s leg. “We won’t stay long. We’re just trying to get Ellie back in the swing of things.”

  Elliot shook his head and rubbed the pad of a finger over the scratches in the table. “I’m not sure this is actually the swing of things that I want to get back into, Cher.” Then he made eye contact with Malcolm. “But thanks for being willing to come out tonight.”

  Malcolm nodded his
“you’re welcome,” but he didn’t look any more relaxed.

  The music suddenly changed from one loud song to another. “Come on, Mal.” Sheri was on her feet and pulling at Malcolm’s arm. “Let’s dance.”

  Elliot thought the poor man looked discomfited before, but then he looked like he was ready to bolt.

  “I don’t dance.” Malcolm didn’t say that nearly as grumpily as Elliot usually did. “I… I… can’t.”

  Elliot couldn’t take any more of Malcolm’s embarrassment. Sheri could be overbearing sometimes and even inconsiderate and selfish. Elliot didn’t think she even knew she was doing it. She simply loved life, enjoyed being spontaneous, and wanted everyone else to do the same. He had to help poor Malcolm.

  He leaned into Daniel and whispered into his ear. “Can you dance with Sheri? I think Malcolm is going MIA in about three seconds if someone doesn’t sub for him.”

  Daniel chuckled and slid back his chair. “Hey, Cher. Do you mind if I cut in?”

  Sheri threw a disgruntled look at Malcolm, then turned toward Daniel. “I don’t think you can technically cut in until I’m already dancing with someone, but I wouldn’t mind dancing with you.” She turned back to Malcolm. “Since somebody refuses to.”

  Watching her worm through the crowd, Elliot became even more concerned about that daring dress. The top was little more than a string bikini attached to the skirt—so maybe more of a tankini—held together only by two thin strings. One at the neck and one across the back. Sheri’s sides and back were completely bare. But the skirt looked like it was made of elastic bandages. It was about that color—maybe just a little more toward the pink—and was wrapped around in a complex pattern, every bit as tight as elastic bandages would be too. And her shoes!

  “How does she walk in those?” Malcolm expressed the very question Elliot was thinking.

  They had six-inch heels, but the only things holding them on her feet were strings convolutedly wound around her feet and halfway up her calves.