Loves Me Not

TWENTY FOUR

BEFORE
CATALAINA KITTRIDGE

He had a nice name, a pleasant name. A name that rolled off the tongue with ease. Ben. Benjamin Summers. I thought about how my own name would look next to his. Ben and Catalaina Summers. It seemed nice. I liked his surname better than my own. And no, despite what you may be thinking, I did not meet Ben on one of my nightly excursions. I met him the morning after.

I had woken up in my own bed, alone. I was tired and restless and needed to get out of the house. I threw on some sweatpants, put my hair in a bun, and headed out. I did a few errands, grabbed some groceries, then stopped at a coffee shop. It's ironic because I don't even drink coffee. I don't even know what caused me to wander in there that day. I guess some would call it fate.

I was standing in line, looking at the menu, contemplating my options, which let me just tell you, there wasn't many. The only thing I could get was either an iced lemonade or a hot chocolate. I went with the lemonade.

It was as I was standing off to the side, waiting for my drink, that my world turned on its axis. I wasn't even dressed properly. I didn't even look nice. I looked like a slob who just rolled out of bed. My exterior appearance matched how I was feeling internally. But somehow, Ben saw through that. I guess he didn't care. Or perhaps he sensed something greater about me that wasn't just about aesthetics. Either way, if someone like Ben was willing to talk to me when I looked my worst, I could only imagine what kind of man he was, the genuine kindness he possessed.

"Hello," he said.
I turned and looked at him, startled, and then confused as to whether he was talking to me or someone else.
I guess he sensed my confusion because he laughed and said, "Yeah, you."
"Hi," I said tentatively.
"You look nice," he said. And it was then that I knew he was a liar. But a damn good one.
I laughed. "Pardon me?"
"I said, you look nice."
"I would say thank you, but I believe that would imply I agree."
"You don't have to agree. You don't have to say anything at all."
"Alright," I laughed to myself and turned so I was facing the counter.
The lady called a name and placed his cup on the counter. I eyed him as he grabbed it. Then something inside of me – perhaps the curiosity, perhaps the part of me that wanted to continue this conversation with a complete strange – said, "what did you get?"
He looked at me, almost surprised to see me still talking to him. "Just a coffee. Nothing spectacular." He paused. "What about you?"
"A lemonade. Nothing spectacular."
"Hey, lemonade can be pretty spectacular. But then again, so can coffee. Miracle worker right there."
"I wouldn't know," I said. "I've never drank coffee."
His eyes widened. "You're lying."
I shook my head. "Nope."
"Are you insane? Or just super-human?"
"The latter," I replied.

And that's how it all began.

We sat down together. He drank his coffee, I drank my lemonade. And before I knew it, something was happening between us.

Before Ben, I hadn't been in a serious relationship in quite a long time. In fact, looking back, most of my relationships weren't serious. It was as though I had difficulty committing to one person. My mind was distracted, my heart somewhere else. Perhaps I knew that I wasn't with the right person. Perhaps I was always holding out hope for someone else.

Things progressed with Ben in the usual way. It started off slow – coffee-shop dates, dinner dates, outings to the movies and mini-putting. He'd take me anywhere – for drinks, bowling, sight-seeing. If one thing was clear from the beginning, it was that Ben was a good guy. He had a good relationship with his family, he had a stable career, and he truly cared about me. He wasn't conniving and manipulative like some of the previous guys I'd been with. He was genuine. He only wanted to see me happy with no ulterior motive. That's what I liked about him. He treated me like a princess. He would have done anything for me. And I guess I sort of took advantage of that.

As the months progressed, I found myself slowly falling in love with Ben. He was an easy person to love. It was him who said it first, only three months into our relationship. We were lying in bed – it must have been around four in morning. We had both woken up and somehow gotten into an in-depth discussion about our lives. I was half asleep so I don't remember specific details of the conversation at hand. But what I do remember is this: he looked at me – he really looked at me. Over the years I had seen tons of guys look at me. But there's a certain look you get when you know it's different. When you know they're not just looking at you, but looking into your soul. And that night, Ben looked at me and I could see everything in his eyes before he even said the words, "I think I'm falling in love with you."

After that, everything else came easily. I fell for him hard, leaving my heart on my sleeve for everyone to see. Ben was the most perfect person. And I knew that there couldn't possibly be anything wrong with him or our relationship that would cause it to end. If anything, it would be my own fault. Only I could somehow manage to screw a good thing like that up. So I tried very very hard not to.

There were certain times where I'd second guess myself. Ben and I would spend the day together and fall asleep in each other's arms. But I'd wake up in the middle of the night from a dream, and I'd see his face. Will's face. And that was how I knew it wasn't over. I knew then that I was doomed. I would never truly get over him, never be able to rid him from my mind. Even if he married Juliette and moved far, far away. Even if he was long gone for good, permanently out of my life, I would never forget him. He would always be there; a stain you can't get rid of; an omnipresence in my mind.