Searching For Meredith Love

by Julie Christensen

  “That’s what everyone says when they are too scared to jump back into the thick of things. But you might as well get busy living again. If this mess with Jeremy has taught me anything,” Kira said, “it’s that sitting home pretending you aren’t lonely doesn’t heal your wounds.”

  Meredith looked outside her front window at her flower bed. She wasn’t ready to date, regardless of what Kira said. “Isn’t it using someone, to date them in the state I’m in?”

  “People use people all the time. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  Back in the yard, she wondered. Could she date other people? She’d gone years without dating, before Ben came along. The only reason Peter wanted to date her was because, since she was dating Ben, she’d been able to relax around Peter and act normal. Now she was dating no one, so she’d just be her usual, nervous, hostile self around people like Mr. Fischer.

  Ben was the only one who had seen through all of that to the real Meredith. She didn’t show affection easily. She tried to push people away. She hadn’t told him the truth about Eric, and he’d been blindsided in the dinner with Elisa. “He was planning our future together,” she said to Mendra, who was lounging in the sun. “And I messed it all up because I was scared.” Her voice sounded funny in the empty yard. On impulse, she jumped up and re-entered the house. Gathering the plant and the candle, she put them back in the relationship corner. “Even if this does wipe away the old,” she decided, “I’ve got the guts to ride that out and see what the future brings.” As the lighter flame caught to the wick, she heard a knock on her door. Her breath caught. Dropping the matches, she rushed to the front door and flung it open.

  The Fischer man stood on her front porch holding a bottle of wine and two long-stemmed glasses. “Hi. I’m the fun part of the official neighborhood welcoming committee.” He gave her a cocky smile. “Have you unpacked your bottle opener?”

  Meredith could not hide her annoyance. He clearly had not needed the last name thing as a prop: his self-confidence was written all over the grin on his face. She stepped outside onto the porch to prevent him from entering her house. Is this what the Universe has in store for me? She wondered. I’d rather be alone. “Now’s not a good time,” she said. But her upbringing would only let her go so far. “I appreciate your kindness. Maybe another day.” She knew her face said it all, despite the words.

  “Are you going somewhere?” asked Fischer, not a man to be daunted by rudeness. He eyed her Nissan in the driveway.

  She didn’t want her lie to obligate her to drive away so she shook her head.

  “Expecting someone?” he asked.

  At that moment, a familiar truck cruised slowly down the lane. It took her a moment to place it. Ben's 4-Runner. Ben was inside, looking at house numbers. His presence felt both natural and unreal. Her mouth was hanging open and she managed to shut it just seconds before Ben looked up at her house and spotted her. He pulled over and got out of his truck.

  Meredith took a deep breath to gain control of her emotions. Ben was approaching the house cautiously, as if he was trying to feel out the situation. Her neighbor was still talking, she realized. She hadn’t heard a word he’d said since the 4-runner rolled into view.

  Fischer turned as Ben approached. Ben held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Ben.” The two men introduced themselves. Todd, as his named turned out to be, beat a hasty retreat, his brashness gone in the presence of another man. Meredith was riled to think that it took a man to stop Todd’s hounding. Her own cold words hadn’t made a dent.

  Ben said, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “I had just finished telling him I wasn’t free this afternoon. It’s funny how he wouldn’t listen until another man showed up.”

  “Was he giving you a hard time?” Ben stood up straighter.

  “Don’t worry about it. I could have taken him.” She smiled. “I’ve been kickboxing.”

  Ben turned to look at Todd’s retreating back. He turned back to Meredith and sized her up. “I’m sure you could have.” Somehow, talking like they’d just seen each other yesterday was easier than acknowledging the momentousness of his presence. He must have called information for her street address, she decided.

  “Come in,” she said, and they stepped into the cool, dark interior of the adobe. Meredith headed deep into the room and turned to find Ben stock-still in the doorway. He was taking in the space.

  “Meredith, it’s like a church in here.”

  Of course, Ben would understand perfectly about the sacredness of her house. She felt herself harden a little, in an attempt at self-preservation. Stay strong, she thought. After all you’ve achieved, don’t start crumbling now. “Would you like a tour?” she asked.

  “Yes. But not just yet. I’d like to talk to you for a bit. Would you mind?”

  She nodded with resignation. Whatever he had to say, she didn’t want the memory of his words to contaminate her house. “No. I don’t mind. Let’s sit out back.”

  In his smoking days, he would have really appreciated that. Now, he followed her out the backdoor and sat down in an Adirondack chair without comment. As he sat, Mendra cleared the back fence and trotted to Ben like old times. Without any hesitation, she hopped into his lap.

  “Hey, old girl,” he said softly, obviously pleased. He began his old stroke, knuckle on the forehead.

  “I’ll get us some water,” Meredith said, and headed back inside. At the sink, she paused to collect herself, but she already felt strangely calm. How peculiar, she thought, that I feel so serene.

  Back outside, Ben paused his knuckle stroke and watched as she sat. He was dressed in khakis and a gray cotton shirt she’d never seen before.

  “Thanks for seeing me,” he began. “I should have called. I’ve just gotten back from two weeks in Oregon. I have some things I’d like to explain to you. Things I’ve been sorting out.”

  Meredith raised an eyebrow. Two weeks seemed like a long time to go home. “Is everyone okay?”

  He nodded briefly. Mendra wriggled impatiently and he started to stroke her again. Then stopped. “My dad has diabetes and he’s been struggling with it. So I went home to help out with things that needed to be done around the house.” Ben was silent again, but didn’t seem to expect her to respond. He looked like he had an invisible script in front of him and was deciding which lines to read and which to skip. “My mother died when I was twelve.”

  “But your mother lives with your father in Portland.”

  “That’s my step-mother. We’re very close. But my real mother died. Of cirrhosis of the liver. She was an alcoholic.”

  Oh boy, Meredith thought.

  “Probably bi-polar, too. Every case is different, but my mother was exactly the kind you study in medical school. A textbook case.” He smiled with irony. “She was Jekyll and Hyde. Laughing, loving, magnanimous one minute, browbeating and miserable the next. And her mood swings ruled our family, particularly my father. He spent his whole life riding her highs or cowering in her lows. He acted like a guilty dog to appease her. I hated him for it, more I think, than I hated her.” He began to stroke Mendra again. Meredith suspected he was corralling his feelings.

  “You’re nothing like my mother,” he finally continued. “Or my father. In fact, that’s probably a big part of what first attracted me to you. I don’t think I’ve ever told you that the first time I saw you, I was a lost man.” He looked up and smiled at her. “You were dealing with an angry patient who’d found her way up to the Administrative offices. An old lady. You were at the front desk and she had this cane.” Meredith knew exactly the moment he was talking about. She didn’t remember him being there. “She kept threatening to rake her cane across your desk and knock everything to the floor. You kept using her name when you talked to her. Mrs. Ar...”

  “...menta,” Meredith interrupted. “Armenta. Yes, I remember her.”

  “All the while she screamed at you, you never lost your quietude. You were trying to appease her, and calm her down, but
you never sacrificed your own dignity. I remember that. I so admired you. I wanted to learn to be that way, too.” He swallowed. “Then I got to really know you, and fell in love with you.” Meredith felt her chest tighten even more. His revelation was opening up all sorts of well-springs and she wanted to stay in control. “But you weren’t ready for that. And I understood. Or, at least, I thought I did.

  “When I saw that interaction with you and Peter at the party, on the dance floor, the possessiveness he showed when he touched your bare back…it stunned me. It’s not that I didn’t trust you. But I hadn’t realized what you’d been dealing with in Peter, until that point. And I couldn’t believe you had kept it from me. Then, to find out, the next day, that you’d kept something as big as an engagement from me.”

  Meredith didn’t say anything. The pain in Ben’s voice was making her chest hurt.

  “My mother lied about everything,” he told her, looking up. “She lied about things that no one even cared about. She cheated on my father with his friends, with our neighbors. At a very young age, I vowed I would never let a woman do to me what my mom did to my dad. My first instinct, after that dinner with your friend, Meredith, was to forgive you. And it terrified me. I could suddenly see where my father was coming from. And why he kept letting her come back into our lives. That’s why I was so unrelenting when you came around and tried to make up. I made the decision not to let you back in, and I stuck to it. But,” his voice broke slightly, “that vow has been tearing me apart.” He took a breath. “While I was home in Oregon, I realized something. It wasn’t my mother who bent my father into the person he was. It was my father. He made those choices himself.” Ben sat up. “He is exactly the same way with Lana. They have the exact same fights that he had with my mom. She comes out shooting, he caves. Then she feels guilty and everyone winds up miserable. I sat in their house and watched the whole pattern repeat, over and over. I felt like I was ten years old again. That’s when I realized: the woman I’m with doesn’t determine the man I am. I choose the kind of person I want to be. And I will never choose to be that.” He paused to breathe. “And you are nothing like them. As soon as I had that revelation, all the hardness fell away and I realized that I’d let my own fears keep me from being happy. I came here straight from the airport.” He reached across for her hands without spilling Mendra. He took a breath. “Meredith, I’m sorry. I love you. I miss you. I want back my life with you. Will you forgive me? And let me come back?”

  Meredith felt like the ocean, after a wave has gone up to the beach and is rushing back home. Ideas swirled through her head. Maybe they should take it slow. Maybe they needed couples therapy. But then she thought, It’s Ben. Ben is here. Ben is back. She looked up. His eyes were true blue. She squeezed his hands. “I love you,” she told him. Ben dumped Mendra as he stood and wrapped his arms around Meredith. Her mouth was up against his jacket when she spoke. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth about Eric.”

  “I should have given you more time. And I should have explained my feelings that night on the way home from the party,” he said, without letting her go.

  Meredith pulled her head back to look at him. “People need to work things out in their own time. You couldn’t have sorted through this any faster than you did.”

  He cupped her face in his hands. “I’m so relieved, right now,” he began, “that I’m suddenly afraid to kiss you.”

  Meredith kissed him lightly on the lips and said, “Then let’s sit down and talk. I’ve missed talking to you.”

  They returned to their respective seats. Mendra was a few feet away. She sat and watched them.

  “How’s Jeremy?” Ben asked.

  Meredith sighed. “I don’t know. The latest is that he may be helped with surgery but he’s refusing it. He’s already walked out on one appointment with a psychiatrist. He’s at another one as we speak. Kira and he were supposed to go together, but they kicked her out and she’s home now.” She bit her tongue on a comment about Mike.

  “Has it metastasized?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’ll probably come around on the surgery. Most men do. Their first reaction is always very strong, but when you weigh it up against your own death, things change perspective.”

  “That’s exactly what Sarah said.”

  “How is Sarah?”

  Meredith started to answer, but the explanation was too long for that moment. “Sarah’s really good,” she finally said. They were silent for a minute. “Do you want a tour of the house?” she asked. “Unless you still want to talk more about Jeremy. We could do that too.”

  Ben looked at her and smiled. “No. I’d love a tour of your home.”

  Meredith walked him through her house, showing him every room and all the special features: the small, stained glass window with the pomegranate on the staircase, and the milagros pounded into the inside of the sunken bookcase. Ben loved every part. He by far had the most satisfying reactions of anyone who’d seen the place.

  In the bedroom, she showed him the kiva fireplace that curved out of the white adobe wall. Her bed jutted out from the wall, unmade. He put his hand on the frame. “Your bed is new.” Meredith wondered what her intention had been when she brought him up to her room.

  “Yes." She sat on the edge of the bed. “My grandmother had a brass bed like this. I loved it as a kid. She’d promised it to me as a wedding present. Since I was a little girl, she’d promised me. After I didn’t get married, she wouldn’t give it to me.”

  Ben laughed. “Family.”

  “Yeah. So when I saw this bed in an antique store, it wasn’t even very expensive, I decided I didn’t need to get married to get my brass bed.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  Silence fell on them. “Ben.”

  “Yes?”

  She held out her arms.

  Without hesitation, Ben crossed the room wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up and then laying her backward on the bed. He kissed her, very softly, on the lips. His hands were dancing across her forearms and shoulders. After a minute, he let go and stepped a few feet away from her. He exhaled quietly, blowing air out of his mouth. His nostrils flared. “God, I’ve missed things about you that I never even realized. Your shampoo. I can smell it from here in your hair.”

  “Ben?”

  “Yes, Meredith?”

  “Kiss me again.”

  He sighed deeply. “Meredith, if we start this, right now, I’m not going to be able to stop. So if you want to take it slow, let’s go back downstairs and make some tea or something.”

  She stepped forward and put her hand lightly on his throat. His breath caught.

  She whispered, “Don’t stop.”

  Like a bursting dam, he came alive in that second, tearing his and her clothes off and tumbling into bed with her still tangled in pants legs and underwear. They kissed in a frenzy, moving quickly through foreplay. Meredith felt her joints crack as he lifted her hips. When he was inside, he put his nose up to her neck and inhaled. “God. You feel so good. I could lay like this forever.” Meredith shifted her hips. Ben gasped and stopped talking. She felt like her torso was exploding. They clutched each other like tree frogs. She came first. He came second. They cascaded and collapsed in the rumpled sheets.

  After a bit, they made love again, slower this time. Then she told him the story of the horse breeder and the Bostonian.

  “What room was the child born in?” he asked, stroking her wrist with his index finger.

  “I don’t remember. Probably this one. It’s clearly the master bedroom.”

  “This house is like a hidden museum.”

  “A woman did a cleansing here, a few days ago.”

  “A housecleaner?”

  “No, a woman with sage.” She explained about the suicide, then abruptly remembered her pink candle. “I lit a candle for you,” she said sliding out of bed and covering herself with a worn, flannel shirt. “I’d better check on it.”

  Downstairs, the
laundry room was perfumed with the scent of roses. The candle was completely liquid now, in its glass container. It took a stronger breath than she expected to blow out the little flame. The fire clung desperately to the wick and survived her first attempt. The second time, however, it disappeared and a thin column of smoke rose up from the wick while the ember burnt itself down to nothing.

  In the early morning, when they were lying in bed, drinking coffee, Ben said, “I’ve got my running shoes in my suitcase. What’s say we take a run around the neighborhood?” The morning air was cool but the sky was clear. Meredith searched the sky but there were no clouds. “It’s going to be a nice day,” she told Ben. He nodded. He was in much better shape than she was. Apparently, he’d kept up on his running when Meredith hadn’t. She marshaled her energy to match his pace. After a mile, Meredith had to give up and walk. “Sorry,” she heaved. “Just go on ahead. I’ll catch you on the way back.”

  But Ben stopped and walked with her. “Haven’t kept up with our schedule, huh?”

  “I cried every time I thought of running without you.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Obviously, you managed to carry on.”

  Ben laughed. Meredith smiled. It felt good to have him here.

  “Sorry. I did. But that’s because I was fighting my urge for nicotine.” He let out a deep sigh. “God, you can’t imagine how strong that craving is. I still can’t believe I’ve managed to fight it off.”

  “So you ran to fight it off?”

  “Yes. That’s all I did was run. Or work. I was trying to keep my mind off of you. It was a pretty miserable existence.”

  Meredith had a question she wanted to ask, but wasn’t sure she wanted the answer. She remembered how she kissed Peter and how it hadn’t meant anything. “I saw you once. In Albuquerque. You were coming out of the Half Moon Cafe. With Ann.”

  Ben was silent.

  “You had your hand on her arm.”

  They walked in silence for a few minutes, which confirmed all of Meredith's fears. Finally, Ben said, “You’ve got a nice view of the mountains from here.”