Our Infinite Sadness

Question

Ben returned home after the phone call with Zoey to an empty house. He went to his room, turned the rocking chair around, and stared out of the back window at falling rain against a solid backdrop of towering hemlocks and sentinel pines.

Zoey had given her candid, brutally honest assessment, and she had pronounced her judgment on the matter loud and clear. She was right. Absolutely, one hundred percent correct. 'Twas said that women always knew, and Zoey had proven it today. She had gone so far as to speculate that Edythe might not even be female. Ben had no idea what, exactly, she was— he did have his pet theories, not that they mattered— but Zoey with her incisive intellect had cut straight through to the heart of it.

That Cullen girl was something, all right. Something to be avoided.

Zoey had threatened to invoke Proviso Two: veto power. It would not be needed.

He resolved to forget that Edythe Cullen existed. He would ignore her. Not a word or glance. He would show her what the silent treatment felt like. She would derive not another moment of sick, gratuitous pleasure at his expense.

At dinner, Charlie begged for a one night reprieve from the evening workout, claiming a hard day and age-related infirmity.

"Nothing doing. I had a hard day, too. Shall I fetch the violin?"

Charlie boomed, "Hah! Look at you, showing your old man what. Fine, then, fine. But I might crap out, I'm warning you."

"As long as you try," Ben insisted.

Ben had prepared stuffed bell peppers and braised flatiron steak. Charlie was inhaling his third portion, which flattered Ben on the one hand but also raised misgivings as to the state of his father's arteries. "Dad, you ever hear of leftovers?"

"Now, now, you know nothing tastes as good reheated."

"I'm flattered, but if you save some in the fridge, you can pack it for lunch tomorrow."

"Huh. Now there's an idea." Charlie chewed on the thought while polishing off the last of the steak.

"Say, Dad, I've been wanting to get to Seattle. Maybe check out the library and maybe get a card, and also I've been wanting to pick up a cheap electronic piano to put in my room, so I can keep up with my practice."

"Need any money?"

"Dad, you bought me a truck. I'm not taking another cent. Anyway I'm thinking of going a week from Saturday."

Charlie sternly said, "Gonna slip some gas money in your wallet when you're not looking. That truck's a guzzler. You need me to come along?"

"Naw, I'll be alright. And I'll probably be there all day." Ben didn't want to disrupt his weekend downtime. He worked six days a week, including Saturday afternoons, after the morning fishing.

They worked together on tidying the kitchen. They had a good system by this time. The first to finish dinner started the dishes; the second dried. The table and counters were clear in minutes. Then it was down to the basement, more for Charlie's sake, since Ben had already exercised twice that day, but he felt like he should lead his father by example. Renée had enjoined Ben to keep Charlie on a consistent exercise regimen, and Ben was somewhat touched by her sentimentality, to have made such a stipulation. So he had every intention of making good on it.

Later, in the basement, Charlie procrastinated a bit on the bench press by bringing up the semi-formal, which would be taking place a week from Saturday, the same day Ben planned on being in Seattle. Something could be said of the fact that Charlie declined to give Ben the third degree about his dating prospects for that night. Charlie didn't find it surprising that Ben wasn't going, and he didn't press. No doubt he was convinced that Ben was taken— that his heart was committed to a long-distant relationship, just like everyone else in town.