The Fives Run North-South (18 page)

19

A
lone in his hotel room, Ben poured his first glass of wine (
cup
of wine actually; he was using a free
plastic
-
wrapped
coffee cup from the
baby
-
sized
coffee maker beside the TV). As they often do, memories came to him in snippets of conversation. Samantha. How had he put it to Cary down in the bar?
A long time ago. For about five minutes.

The basement of a college frat house.

“Hi. My name’s Ben.”

“So?”

“Oh, that’s just great,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, despite the lack of stuttering in my delivery, coming up to you and trying to start a conversation scared the crap out of me and isn’t something I’ve very good at. You’ve just stunted any potential growth in social confidence for me. Thanks.”

Still no smile, or not one that would bode well. “You’re weird,” she said.

“Never mind.” He turned to return to the other side of the room.

“Hey,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“I’m Samantha. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Okay.”

She turned back to her friend, leaving no indication he’d made an impression.

“How’d I do?” Ben asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Our first date. How did I do?”

“You aren’t supposed to ask that.”

“I know, but I figure I’m on house money right now.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure what that means, and if I’m to be honest, I only went out with you to see if you really were as weird as you seemed on first impression.”

“Well, with my kind of weirdness, scientists say you need at least four good periods of exposure before being able to make a full determination.”

“Goodnight, Ken.”

“Ben.”

“Whatever.”

“Maybe I’m weird too,” she said, as she lowered her head onto his shoulder, exhaling her body into full relaxation.

“I knew I’d grow on you.”

“Like a fungus?

“So you staying tonight?”

“Only because it’s cold.”

“Not going to give me an ounce of credit, are you,” Ben said.

She looked at him, her eyes softening a bit. “Hey, is that discouragement I hear?”

“No. Never mind.”

Samantha put her hand behind his head and pulled him in for a kiss. “No,” she said. “I’ll give you credit. Maybe a couple credits. I have all night.”

“A year?” he said.

“My personal record,” she said. “Don’t tell my friends.”

The raised their champagne glasses.

“I’m glad you finally introduced me to your father. Thought you were ashamed,” she said.

“Of him or you?”

She looked across the ballroom.

“Well, considering we’re at a freaking
black
-
tie
book
-
launch
party, I’d say me.”

He kissed her forehead. “Not a chance.”

“I mean, usually when you meet the parents it’s an uncomfortable dinner. All you have to worry about is not chewing with your mouth open. Now I still have that, but I also have to navigate a room full of rich people while wearing high heels. Feel like everyone’s staring at me.”

“Hottest girl in the room. Ought to be used to that.”

“Ben, there are models here. Real ones,” she waved her arm toward the room then dropped it. “Oh, shit, here he comes. Jesus, do I have food in my teeth?”

Rob approached them. “So you’re Samantha,” he said, opening his arms. “The girl who’s kept his attention for nearly a year.”

She fell into his hug, beaming.

“I guess I’m the only one who didn’t realize it’s been a year already,” Ben said. “I’m clinging to the ‘time flies’ theory.”

“Good,” said Rob. “Male cluelessness is becoming cliché. Enjoying the party, Samantha?”

“A bunch.”

“Then you’re the only one. Among the many rules of parties, if the word ‘gala’ is in the title, it’s bound to be loaded with forced smiles and
watch
-
checking
.”

“I don’t care,” Samantha said. “Oh, Jesus, is that Brad freaking Pitt?”

Rob nodded.

“He’s the lead in the latest adaptation.”

“Are autographs allowed?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Rob said. “I see my agent beckoning. Got asses to kiss. It was great meeting you, Samantha. “We should go out for dinner.”

“She’s super good at chewing with her mouth shut,” Ben said, receiving a slap on the back of his bicep.

“Holy shit, Samantha, what is it?”

“Look!”

“I’m looking. Calm down, whatever it is, let me help you fix it.”

She wiped the tears from her face, but it was only temporary relief as she broke down again in another
body
-
wracking
sob. She held that strange little white stick out in front of his face.

“What is it, Sam?”

“Are you really that fucking stupid?” she yelled, spit and tears spraying.

He looked again at the white stick and something clicked. “Is that a…”

“A pregnancy test. Yes. Jesus, Ben.”

“So you’re…”

“Goddamn you, Ben. Goddamn you.”

“Can we at least discuss it?” Ben asked.

“Seems like that’s what we’re doing.”

“But for once, listen to me.”

“Jesus, Ben. Listening to you is what got us into this. Sometimes I wish I’d never met you,” Samantha said.

“That’s not fair.”

“If you were the one pregnant, then it’d be fair. This is my decision.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course not. I haven’t gone to church since I was eleven. Don’t even believe half the shit I learned at Catholic school, and here I am thinking I’m about to punch my ticket for eternity in hell. But I’m not ready to be a mother. I will never be ready to be a mother. In the plan I’ve made for my life, motherhood was never, ever in the works.”

“Why?”

“I want my career. I want my freedom. I want good money.”

“You can still have all those.”

“How? Tell me how, genius.”

“I’m here. I’m here for the child. Dad will help us financially. My work is going to keep me home. It all fits.”

Samantha shook her head. “It never goes to plan. I know. I saw it with my own mother and those scars on her wrist. It’s not in our genes, Ben. Not in my family. Please.”

“No, Samantha. I’m not letting up. Just like when I tried to get you to go out with me. I know it will work out all right. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

She just shook her head, and the shaking spread to her body.

“No promises,” she said. “But if I keep the baby, you need to give me one commitment.”

“Anything.”

She sat silently for what seemed an eternity. It seemed it took all her effort just to keep breathing, and it continually seemed to catch in her throat. Finally, she said: “Nine months isn’t forever. So if I have this baby, you need to promise me that after the birth, if I want out, you let me out. You take that baby and you take yourself out of my life. I want an escape hatch. I want the life I want. And if I make that decision, you stop with your obsessive determination to make me your ideal woman.”

He looked at her in disbelief, but found himself nodding. He reached out to touch her arm, and it felt as if he were holding a wax statue.

Things would turn out all right. He was sure.