Torn (Connections #2)(12)

Tears are streaming down her face and they're soon mimicked by my own. I look to Serena for comfort, but she, too, is crying. "What's going on?" My heart has started pounding quicker and quicker with every passing second. When no one answers, I squeeze River's hand so tightly it actually pulses in mine.

Finally, Serena clears her throat and speaks. "Dahlia, River, we have something to tell you. I know it's going to be a . . ." I try to listen but can't help but tune her out as I see a shadow walking toward us from the kitchen. When I look up I see an image of Ben. I gasp and my stomach clenches. Am I dreaming? This can't be real. He's dead. I know he is. What's wrong with me? I clench River's hand even harder and start to worry that maybe I'm suffering from a head injury. I close my eyes hoping my hallucination will be gone when I reopen them, but it's not. I am so confused. I'm also really scared.

He stops moving and stands on the other side of the table. I hear voices, but no words. I hear River's voice. I hear Ben's voice. I hear someone crying. Wait-this can't be Ben. I remember crying when he died. I remember sitting in the pew between Grace and Serena, gripping both their hands while listening to Father John recite the Final Commendation and Farewell. Grace leaned against me and I leaned against Serena. I remember the tears they cried, the tears I cried. They were all cried for him-because he was dead.

I remember the painful final chorus of amens before the pallbearers loaded his ivory casket into the hearse that brought him to his final resting place. I remember saying goodbye to him as they lowered him into the ground. I said goodbye a million times after that.

Yet for some reason, despite knowing that he's gone, I can still see him. He's standing in front of me. I stare at the figure that looks so much like Ben. No, not just looks like Ben-it is Ben. I see a face that's completely unreadable to me. Eyes that are as blue as I remember them. Hair that's shorter than I remember, but still wavy and dirty blond. Clothes that look like his-lightweight hoody and cargo shorts. Soft tears are falling down his cheeks. This figure looks the same as Ben, but somehow different at the same time. Older maybe? Still beautiful, though. Still Ben in every way. He sniffs a little, which makes the figure seem even more real, and I have to go see for myself that it isn't. I stand up, drop River's hand and slowly, cautiously, walk toward it. My fists clench, my heart pounds, and fear wrenches through my entire body. I feel the prickle of stares from everyone in the room. I know River is talking to me but I'm not listening. I have to figure out what this is that I see. 

I'm barely breathing, nervous and petrified as I study his shape. I approach his image with uncertainty. And as I stand in front of him, I can't help but think-this really is him. I cautiously cup his cheek with my hand. His skin is smoother than I remember and it feels so real. His hands trap mine and his eyes search me, search through me looking for something I'm not sure he can find.

When I don't respond, he drops his hands. His body trembles as he fingers the pearls around my neck. He pulls me to him. "Dahl, I've missed you so much."

Struggling to break free of his hold, I feel like I'm suffocating. All the air has left my lungs and my head spins. Why am I dreaming about Ben in the middle of day? I've put Ben to rest. Why does his touch feel so real? Why does his voice reverberate through me in such a familiar way? This makes no sense. The room seems to disappear.

"Benjamin," Grace says softly, "I think we should all sit down and explain what's going on. This has to be an enormous shock to Dahlia."

With widened eyes I snap my attention over to her and point my finger. "Did you say Ben? Do you see him, too?"

"Dahlia, please come sit down," she says in the same calm, soothing tone she always uses when she knows I'm on the verge of hysteria. Her hands are on my shoulders as she attempts to turn me back to face her. River approaches me with a blank stare, complete shock evident on his face. I turn back to the figure I thought was just a figment of my imagination.

When he says, "Dahl, it's me. It's really me. I wasn't really shot. I didn't actually die. I did it for you. I did it all for you," I have to blink over and over to focus my eyes and try to hear what he's saying.

As I process the words, I begin to think I might be in some alternate universe. My body trembles and my knees are weak as I look at him and scream, "Did what? Oh my God! You did what for me? Who the hell are you?"

River's arms are instantly at my side, trying to pull me away, but I am frozen in this spot, I can't move. I am entranced by this man who looks so much like my Ben. Then I look into this man's forget-me-not blue eyes and suddenly I know he's real, this is my Ben. I can see him; the boy I grew up with, the guy I knew so well. The man I was going to marry.