So this is the last chapter in the Ben and Mia story. Sometimes things that burn so intensely cannot be prolonged. Everything runs it's course, sometimes sooner than we would have wanted but hey, that's life. We are left with memories to keep us going.
Thank you to all the readers who have enjoyed their story. I appreciate the positive feedback and rating more than you will ever know.
Onto the next adventure!
RCC
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Our check out time was at noon, so we rushed around picking up discarded clothing and anything else lying around. Tossing them into our bags, we then attempted to clean up. In reality that meant stripping the ruined bed and leaving a pile, along with towels and a note that simply read "So sorry, but THANK YOU!". Ben also left a generous tip for the cleaning people. I insisted on a quick picture of us with the cabin in the background before we left. Just one momento to take with me, along with a plethora of memories.
The ride back to Seattle was subdued. Ben took a few phone calls from work while I gazed out the window watching the scenery pass us by. I had work that night so I was headed home. We weren't sure when we'd see each other again, the upcoming week was busy for Ben and I had taken a shift almost every day that week. I also had a lot to think about and decisions to make about what I was going to do. The longer I waited, the harder it would be to really get going, so I wanted to have a plan. I sighed at that thought, back to my old ways of planning, planning and more planning. It made me a bit sad to say goodbye to the carefree weekend we just had.
When he pulled in front of my building, I almost didn't want to get out. The tension was there, it had been building during the five hour drive back. Neither of us knew what was going to happen now that we were back, and I don't think we wanted to face it - whatever "it" was. Ben didn't turn the car off, but instead put it into park. He turned to look at me.
"Thank you for coming with me, Mia. This weekend was more than I ever imagined it would be. I had a wonderful time."
With a sigh, I turned to look at him, "It was the perfect getaway, thanks to you Ben. I had an amazing time. I wish..."
I decided not to finish that statement. One, because I didn't know what I wanted to say. Two, because what I feared I would say wasn't the smartest place to go. So instead I just smiled and gathered my things from around the front seat. Taking my lead, Ben got out of the car and opened the trunk to retrieve my bag. He met me at my door.
"So this week..." he said, trailing off for a moment, running a hand down his face and beard.
"I'm working odd shifts almost every day. And I know you're busy with work. So, we can email and text?"
"Yeah, we can play it by ear, see if we can work something out."
He didn't sound overly excited by that, but I didn't feel any need to push it.
"Ok, that sounds good. Thank you again," I said leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.
He turned my head and kissed me full on. Our lips touched and it was electrifying. My hands gripped his chest, his fingers cupping my face and hair. Lips parted, foreheads resting together, eyes closed. Our breathing slowed after a moment and we slowly broke away from one another.
"I'll try to come by when you work a night shift," he said, stepping away.
"I'd love that. I'm doing nights tonight, Tuesday,Thursday and the weekend."
I turned towards the door to my building and looked back over my shoulder as he got into his car. I watched him sit there for a moment, his hands on the steering wheel, gazing out. He ran his hands over his face and hair, then shook his head and put the car into drive. He paused again, turned and caught me looking. He gave me a small smile, not one that I had ever seen before. Our eyes locked one last time and he drove off. I stood there and watched him drive away and I knew that was it.
All along part of me knew that what we had just shared was not going to be forever. That our lives were in two different places and meeting in the middle just didn't seem possible. He was honest and up front, and I appreciated that. But lost in the fog of romance and passion I let my feelings get away from me. I wanted so badly to believe that we could make it work, that our ages were nothing but that damn cliche and if two people wanted to be together then it would work. It did in all those damn movies and books, right? So why not in real life? I laughed at my naivety, it seemed like the only thing left to do.
Ben didn't make it to Purple that week. Though we did text and email here and there, he was too busy to make it in and my schedule wasn't allowing for us to see each other. I thought maybe I'd see him over the weekend, but he was out of town for most of it and upon returning too tired to make it in. We tried a few times to meet up for lunch, but that too was difficult. At times I found myself considering taking an office job just so we could have matching 9-5 schedules. But I knew I wouldn't be happy doing that and as much as I wanted to see him, I couldn't commit to a job that I hated.
Instead I focused my energies on finding a career that I did like - regardless of the schedule. And although I said I didn't want to teach, I found myself interviewing for some creative writing teaching positions and other literature based jobs. I didn't want to give up my job at Purple and my boss was great about letting me pick and choose my shifts. I interviewed at a few places in Seattle and also did a few interviews over Skype for companies in Vancouver BC and San Francisco.
I did everything I could to keep busy - researching jobs, working extra shifts, and writing. Though I had never done it before, I started a diary of sorts which turned into short stories, which morphed into longer ones. It was a great outlet and kept my mind busy. That became key - I needed to keep moving. It was during my downtime that I missed him. It was during the quiet moments that I thought about him and longed to be with him again. Weeks had gone by and though we did email a lot, it was nothing like our time together. He was always good about checking in, saying hello, even during his busiest of times. I loved that he took the time to write, to always be in contact. It made me smile to see his name across my phone or an email in my inbox.
He told me about his work, how things were going really well. He and his partner were considering a buyout they had been presented with shortly after our return. That meant meeting after meeting and trips to and from NYC to meet with the potential buyers. He said he was ready to sell, but the details of it were tedious. Since everything was in the works for the sale, he had booked himself a trip to Europe, something he had been wanting to do for some time. He hadn't decided but set aside up to twelve weeks for traveling - good food, good wine - him and his camera and computer to write. I told him how jealous I was of his new found freedom, and that the trip sounded amazing. I wrote and then quickly deleted how badly I wanted to join him.
Instead, I told him about my job hunt, the interviews and schools that I was hoping to get into. He encouraged and supported me, offering advice where he could. His messages were filled with hope for my possible new found career and writing habit. I sent him a few things that I had written and his comments were critical yet positive. I thought maybe it was something I could get really into. We discussed different writing forums I could try posting to, to get other feedback. I hadn't reached that point yet, but was thankful for the ideas and advice. For now it was just a hobby, just a way to pass the time.
I tried to always reply quickly when I saw a message from him, with our jobs it was hard to catch one another online at the same time. A few times we were able to chat on the phone, but even then it was rushed or interrupted. When he did come into the bar it was for a quick bite. He always greeted me with a kiss and took his seat at the end of the bar. A quick meal and glass of wine, small talk when we could. He didn't stay for my breaks anymore, as they usually were later than he wanted to be up. So email seemed to be the easiest way to fill each other in on our days, or random messages with thoughts, fantasies, whatever came to mind. It seemed, on the surface, to be a great way to keep things going. Only, with every message we sent, I hurt a little more.
Though I never said it to him, I had fallen in love with him during our trip to Whistler - if I'm honest I fell in love with him in the weeks leading up to it. I longed for our cabin in the woods, the long talks and oh the sex...the chemistry we had...it was intoxicating. But now real life had reared it's ugly head and we were moving in two completely different directions. It was a harsh reality check, one I didn't really want, but obviously needed. Ben didn't want to get married and settle down with kids. And as much as I tried to convince myself I didn't want that either, I really did. I wanted the house with a family. I wanted to come home from work and have dinners together, discussing our days. I wanted random weekend trips and longer (planned) vacations. As much as traveling the world sounded glamorous, it wasn't something I had envisioned for myself long term. I found myself in constant battle with my heart. I loved him, I wanted him. But I wasn't ready to give up on what I wanted at the same time.
One Saturday night that I managed to have off, we set a date for dinner at my place. I cooked a nice meal and brought some wine home from the bar. Ben arrived promptly at six wearing a black henley and dark jeans. He looked amazing. My heart skipped at the sight of him. It had been weeks since we were alone and I was giddy at the sight of him. His arms enveloped me as soon as I opened the door. We held each other for a few minutes, not saying a word. When he pulled back from me he smiled but his eyes were not. Dinner was quiet, he filled me in on the latest with the sale and his plans for his trip at the beginning of next month. I told him about my second interview with the company in Vancouver and how I really thought it was going to become an offer. He smiled and began to sing "Oh, Canada".
He held my hand throughout the meal, his thumb stroking my skin. My heart was racing, but my stomach was in knots. Things just felt different. Let's call it wishful thinking, but I had thought that maybe being together again would make things more clear. Like it would allow me to see through the haze and suddenly I'd have a plan and everything would work out. But instead I found myself wondering what life would be like in the upcoming months. Would I even be here when he returned? I must have had a dazed look on my face as my mind wandered. Ben's voice broke into my thoughts.
"Are you okay, Mia? You're awfully quiet," he asked.
"OH, yeah, sorry. Just thinking about your trip and how much you'll see and do in all that time. And wondering if I'll see you when you get back, or if I'll be gone by then..." my voice trailed off.
Don't cry, don't cry, I silently chanted over and over. I could feel my eyes starting to water and my face tensing to prevent it. I stood suddenly, pulling my hand free from his grasp and began to clear the dishes. I took a deep, soothing breath as I stood at the sink, steadying myself and regaining my composure. Turning back to the table, Ben was studying me with a tentative look on his face. I knew he could see right through me, but I wasn't sure I wanted to talk about it. It's not like discussing it would change anything. So instead I distracted myself and played hostess.
"Can I get you another glass of wine? Something else to eat? I have fruit, cookies, maybe some ice cream?"
I turned back towards my tiny kitchen, opening and shutting cabinets. Anything to avoid his stare.
"No, thank you. I'm fine with this," he said tipping and swirling his half full glass. "Dinner was great, thank you so much for cooking. Do you want to sit on the sofa for a bit?"
Taking a deep breath again, I turned and nodded. We moved to sit down on my tiny sofa, both of us half turned towards one another. I kept both my hands in my lap, holding onto my cup of water. Ben held his glass in one, the other stretched out along the back of the sofa, his fingers grazing my shoulder and touching the ends of my hair. He watched his fingers as he ran them through the black and purple ends. I took the opportunity to look at him, memorizing his face, his eyes and lips.
