Next Tuesday – Part 4

It was the first time Ben had told anyone about the morning of 9/11. Though there was initial relief at the unburdening, he realized the confession could not ease his guilt any more than leaving New York had. Every night, he had dreams about Justin walking into the lobby of the towers that morning. More and more, he relied on a bottle of gin for the quick, yet temporary relief of blackouts.

And so, it was the empty gin bottle that prompted him to leave his place to find the nearest all night bodega. In the elevator, the girl in the club-hopping couple form upstairs gave him a side look.  

On his way back, light rain fell on him. He pulled his hoodie over his head and broke into a jog which became a run as the raindrops pelted him with more intensity. He ran for a while, past his apartment building, until all thought had been wiped from his mind, all the way to the river. The sensation that he was being watched overtook him, though the streets around him were deserted.

He was on the bridge now, the mild urge to jump into the black waters that had started back in his apartment intensifying now.

I see you’re still trying to take the easy way out.

Ben swung his face around to face the familiar voice but no one was there. He shut his eye and opened them again, the fast moving below looking more menacing than before.

Go home Ben.  

This time, it was a whisper, close to his face.

He stepped off the ledge.

“Who’s there?”

Adrenaline coursed through him, his fists clenching by his side. Something moved in the bushes on the edge of the bridge. A cat, grey and white striped and emaciated stepped out, locked eyes with him before turning away.

Ben ran his fingers through his hair, suddenly feeling foolish. He may have been hungover, yes, but there was no doubt he’d felt Justin’s presence there.

***

Back at his apartment, he dumped the remaining liquor bottles and sobered himself with black coffee before going to the office. He was already at the drafting table when his father came in.

“Hey, Ben. I saw your light was on. Didn’t expect to find you here.”

He looked at his son, taking in the suit, the new shave.

“Morning dad. I wanted to finish the new rendering before that reporter gets here. Tell mom thanks for the suit.”

His phone rang. Ms. Alexander from Metro had arrived. He’d assumed E. Alexander, the writer behind the articles he’d been enjoying was a man.

“Right on time.” His father said.

Ben went to straighten the papers on his desk. When he turned around, it was Elise standing there and, this time, she wasn’t taking his lunch order.

“Ben, this is Elise Alexander from Metro.”

They both smiled as his father looked to them.

“You two know each other?”

Afterward, Elise stayed in his office.

“You know, I went to Phil’s for weeks after the attacks looking for you,” he told her.

“I never made it to work that morning. I was still in my apartment when Phil called,” she said. “What about you? I often wondered if you and your friend were ok. I wish I’d had a way to get in touch with you.”

“I never made it to work that morning either.”

He glanced at her hand, unadorned except for a large silver watch.

“How about we make good on that lunch we never had?”

She nodded, grabbing her bag.

“I know the perfect place.”

The End