“No,” I say, relieved even more. I didn’t actually want to talk to him. “I’ll call back. Thanks, bye.” I hang up before I’m questioned and hope they don’t check the caller ID.
Ben’s dad is alive at least, though I know that didn’t mean he was “okay” by any means.
I sigh. Now what? Should I call Ben again? Give it just one more shot? I don’t want to come across as desperate, but that’s exactly what I am.
And people do desperate things for the ones they love.
I call Ben, hands shaking as the phone rings. He doesn’t hang up, but he doesn’t answer.
“Ben,” I say to his voicemail. “It’s me. I’m sorry, and I miss you. Can we please talk in person? I … I just need to know.”
I hang up and close my eyes, wondering how long it will take before I’m back to my old self. I was happy. A little lonely, yeah, but I was doing all right. Living and loving life and just being me.
I want that again, but not as much as I want Ben.
*
I didn’t get the dress altered in time before I passed out on the floor of my guest room. I woke up at 4 AM, crawled into bed, and slept for two more hours until my alarm blared. Then I called into work and said I was sick.
I’m feeling guilty now as I sit behind the sewing machine. Cameron is concerned; he said he noticed how quiet I’ve been over the last few days and wants me to take it easy so I can get better and be back to my old self Monday morning.
I let out a breath and cut a thread. Almost done. I like making costumes, but altering this dress made out of horribly flowy material … not so much. It didn’t take much work. I had to shorten the hem and let it out around the boobs. I pull out the pins, snip any extra hanging threads, and try it on.
Perfect fit.
Finally. I wrinkled the dress when I altered it, so I take it into the bathroom, hang it on the shower curtain, and get my steamer. I never realized how helpful being into costuming would be. Not everyone has a vast array of thread colors or steamers available in their homes.
I clean up and start packing my bag. I need something fancy to wear to the rehearsal dinner tonight, since the Boba Fett dress probably won’t go over well with my parents. I settle for a plain black dress and my Harry Potter heels. I gather everything I’ll need for tomorrow and load up the car. I lose myself in League of Legends for a while, until it’s ready to say bye to Ser Pounce and make the long drive home alone.
The house is empty when I arrive. I assume everyone is at Jake’s or the hotel where family is staying. I use the time alone to take everything up to my room. I had planned on staying in one of the available cabins with Ben, but that’s not really necessary anymore.
I take my computer downstairs, find the leftover booze from last weekend’s party, and pour myself a glass of red moscato. Then I settle on the couch and make it through one-and-a-half episodes of Supernatural before my parents come home.
“Oh good, you’re here!” Mom says as soon as she walks through the door. She’s wearing those temporary Styrofoam flip-flops they put on you when you get a pedicure. Dammit. I knew there was something I was supposed to do. I bend my legs and hide my feet under my body. There is nail polish in the upstairs bathroom. Left over from my childhood, but if I shake it enough it’ll be okay. Right? I hope so.
I cannot get my shit together to save my life.
“Where else would I be?” I ask her.
“I called you and you didn’t answer!”
“Oh, yeah, left my phone upstairs.” I pause the episode, leaving Dean in an awkward position with Castiel. I snicker to myself.
“Did you remember your dress?”
“Yes.”
“And your shoes?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“And the necklace Danielle got you?”
I tap my neck. “I’m wearing it.”
Mom sets her purse down and comes into the living room. “Good.” She inhales and closes her eyes for a second before exhaling. “I’m so nervous. I’m having heart palpitations.”
“Calm down, Mom. The last thing we need is you passing out.”
“I’m not going to pass out. Why, do I look like I’m going to pass out? I’m not pale, am I? I skipped the sunscreen a few times this summer to get a glow.” She spits that all out rather quickly.
“No, Mom, you look gorgeous. The tan is very youthful. Just relax. Danielle has that fancy wedding planner, and everything else is all set. It’s going to be perfect.”
Mom smiles at me. “Yes, it is. And I’ll worry more at your wedding, anyway. At least I’m not paying for this one.”