Love Is . . .

Chapter 22

The next two days were my scheduled days off. I kept to my bed in a state of shock. I barely ate or drank. I would just lie there for hours staring at the ceiling. I would hear my cell phone, something I purchased with my first paycheck, vibrating periodically. All calls from Ben. I can't speak to him. I feel . . . dirty. What once was pure is no more. I wrestle with thoughts of where I go from here. Do I tell him? I fear his rejection, but I also fear his acceptance. I can never be what I was before. Doesn't he deserve that girl? I'm so ashamed that I want to hide from the world. I don't go to the hospital or the police. I, eventually, come to the decision that if no one knows, then maybe it can be like it never happened.

At the end of the second day, there was a knock at the door. My father was not home, so it was up to me to answer. Being that no one ever visited us, curiosity won over, and I left the security of my bed to see who it was. I peek through the curtains, and I'm shocked to see Ben's mother standing on the porch with a look of disapproval as she is taking in her surroundings. Reluctantly, I opened the door just enough to speak to her. Her eyes widen at my appearance, but she quickly recovers and states,

"Well, you are alive. Do you realize Ben has been trying to call you for the last two days? He is worried sick. So much so, that he insisted I come here to make sure you are okay. What exactly is going on?"

I look down and take my time to answer. "I . . . I've been sick and in bed unable to do much of anything."

"Do you need to see a doctor?"

"No! No, I am starting to feel better. I will call Ben right away, and I'm sorry to have bothered you."

"Well, alright then. Just call him, please," she says and quickly retreats to her car.

I don't call him right away. I have to think about what to say. So, I sat dejected on my bed for the millionth time considering my options. I know I should tell him. He deserves to know the truth. I pick up my cell phone and with trembling fingers dial his number.

"Hello?" He answers on the first ring.

"Hey," I say softly. My voice sounds strange to my own ears.

"Abby! Thank God, are you okay? What's going on? Why haven't you been answering my calls?" I can picture his handsome face in an expression of deep concern.

"I, I'm so sorry . . ." I bite my lower lip trying to hold back the sob that is building in my chest, tears are already trickling down my face.

"What's going on? You sound funny. Is it your dad?"

I take a deep breath to get myself under control. "Um, no. I was . . . sick." I can't do it. I couldn't say the word. It still seems as if what happened was just a nightmare, not my reality. And saying that word out loud would make it so. I just couldn't do it.

"Sick? What kind of illness keeps you from answering the phone?" He asks skeptically with some irritation seeping in as well. I say the first thing that comes to mind. I got food poisoning and have been so violently ill that when I'm not hugging the toilet, I'm passed out sleeping from being so weak, trying to recover. The lie works, and he immediately feels bad for doubting me.

"Should I come home sooner?" He has planned to come back for two weeks during Christmas break which is now about a week away.

"No, it's okay. I'm starting to feel better, and I'd rather you not see me like this anyway." At least that part is true.

"Abby, you know that I love you no matter what, vomit and all," he attempts to joke. I ball a fist against my mouth still trying to prevent my heartache from being known. Would he love me if he knew the truth? I don't know. I'm scared of losing him.

"I love you, Ben," I whisper. "And I'm so sorry." I hear him release a breath then says softly,

"I miss you, and now that I know you're okay, I'll let you get back to resting. You do sound exhausted. Please, don't hesitate to call me or go to my mother if you need anything, okay? I'll be home soon. I love you."

We say our goodbyes, and I sit and stare at my phone in my hand. I lied to him. I am a coward. I can't risk losing him. I feel I have no other choice now but to pretend it never happened. So, with my mind made up, the next day, I go to school and then work like normal. I was afraid people would just know with one look at me, but nothing was different. Everyone treated me exactly the same. I did feel panicky when I entered the kitchen area of the diner. I froze staring at the spot where it happened. My heartbeat was too loud in my ears, my palms sweaty, and my breaths were rapid. I grabbed a hold of the counter to steady myself.

"Order up!" Charlie exclaims as he slides the hot plate of food towards me. "Hey, are you okay?" He asks when I don't move to grab the tray. I take a deep breath. I can do this. I repeat over and over in my head as I turn to smile at Charlie.

"Yeah, sorry. I got it." I grab the order and turn to get to work.