Missing Grace(4)

Sitting at the computer, he pulled up the file labeled "Grace" and stared. Tonight he would indulge the cravings never truly satisfied. He would give in because when he had episodes of hope tease him, he was too weak to stay away. Reaching up, he touched the screen as if touching her face again.

The photo was his favorite, his Achilles heel. Grace had never been more beautiful than the day they got engaged. Her smile lived in her eyes, love rested on her lips, waiting to give it away. Ben used to drink her up, savor her laughter, and wrap his body around hers to lose himself, entangling his soul with hers.

"Fuck." His head dropped in shame, his chin hitting his chest. The same questions still plagued him years later-What happened to her and why couldn't I save her?

Clicking to the next photo, he stared at the picture of the two of them on her twenty-first birthday. He towered over her by then. Caught on camera looking at each other and laughing, living in the moment-he loved this photo too. It could be said, he loved every photo he had of her and had memorized every detail. The evening drifted away as he got lost in a life that had become his past. His torture. 

"Benjamin?" Rebecca's voice came from behind.

Quickly hitting the escape button, he tried to cover what he was doing. As casually as he could, he responded, "Hey there."

He smiled while walking over to her, hoping to redirect her attention from the computer screen. He didn't like worrying her and could tell by her tone she was. She deserved so much better than him. Despite his gratefulness, he wasn't sure why she stayed with him. He could only ever give her half the man he was. She had more access to his apartment than to his heart. The key to the apartment was a consolation prize, a distraction to a conversation she wanted to have about his real feelings, a drunken discussion that had become sexual. He'd thought he was ready for something physical, ready for a connection with someone again. He hadn't been and the key to his place was offered. The key to his heart would forever remain locked, as half his soul was missing with Grace.

Reaching up, she rubbed his shoulders, easing the tension collected in his muscles. "Are you all right? You had me worried earlier." Her eyes flickered to the desk where the computer was. "And now." Concern coated each word.

Months ago, he had reassured her that he had stopped looking at those photos, and had promised to put more effort into their relationship. He thought they had made progress as a couple, but something inside him never allowed him to stop looking, to stop thinking about his missing fiancée. He couldn't let Grace go. He knew Rebecca would be disappointed and hurt, catching him doing this again, so he tried to cover his actions by pulling her into a hug. "I'm good. Are you off for the night?"

"Yes," she replied dubiously.

From her one-word answer, he knew she was mad. After a sweet kiss to the cheek, he tried to sway her mood. "You want to grab something to eat?"

"Sure." The word was tainted in uncertainty, maybe more in disbelief.

He had to be better. Ben had to try harder. "I'll just change out of my work clothes." He walked into the bedroom and closed the door. Leaning against it, he closed his eyes and vowed to end this insanity.

Once and for all.





3





Ben Edwards





In silence, Ben sat in the waiting room of Chicago Memorial. He'd been there so often during the last three years that the staff knew him by name. Sometimes they even sat with him while he studied the notes he had taken each visit, updating them meticulously.

Ben hired a private investigator the first week of his search, but nothing in the following days was uncovered except what he already knew. He was well aware that the first days someone went missing were the most crucial for evidence if they're going to be successful in finding them. Ben found himself in a heated argument with the PI, tired of hearing the same reoccurring theme about their situation. There was nothing normal about this. Maybe other couples went to such extremes to start a new life, but his heart knew that he and Grace were unique in their love for one another.

Jennifer Foster had been the nurse he talked to the first time he came here, handing her a flyer with Grace's information on it. She was nice that first day and every day after . . .

As he walked into Chicago Memorial, the last hospital on his list for the day, he could feel hope evaporating from his body like steam into the air. It was slow, but constant. The nurses and clerks were usually as helpful as they could be. Some posted the flyers in their lounges or passed them from nurse to nurse and from one department to the next, but no one had any information.