their non-disabled dancers.
***
So I'm home now.
It's Halloween.
And I still have disparaging thoughts about myself.
One of them being how fitting this holiday is for a one-legged Skellington like me. I don't answer the door for trick-or-treaters. My mother or sisters do that. I stay in my room and read. And answer Holly's texts every now and then.
My mother presented me with a smart phone as a welcome-home gift. She must have told Holly I had a phone again, because all day long she's been texting me. Most of them about how hot Ben Falco is and how he'd be perfect for me. I don't encourage her by agreeing, because I really don't want to talk about him. She can be relentless though. The texts have slowed up tonight, though, because the bar is probably slammed with customers. Part of me wishes I were there. I miss my old life.
It's about eight forty at night when I get a text from an unfamiliar number.
TEXT: Hi, Rose. Thinking about you. Hope everything's cool. *Ben
Ben?
Holly must have given him my number. My mother doesn't even know he exists. I don't think she was paying much attention the day she came into Orange, and we were sitting together.
Do I respond?
I don't know.
I toss the phone onto the bed and open my book, not knowing what to say to him right now. The words on the page of Gone Girl run together in one long fuzzy train of letters. Putting it aside, I pick up my phone and stare at Ben's text.
After several long minutes, I text back.
ME: Hi.
I know. Lame. But... Is everything cool? Not really. Did I want to say, "Thanks for thinking of me?" No.
So...Hi. That's the best I can think of. Maybe I suffered more brain damage than they think.
Right away, I get a text back.
BEN: Hi. :) I'd like to see you soon. Going stir crazy in the house. My mother's driving me nuts.
ME: Oh.
So lame. So lame. So lame.
BEN: Can I visit?
Shit.
I guess I don't text him quickly enough, because I get another ding.
BEN: No pressure. I'll use my imagination to remember your face.
ME: Please don't.
Uh oh. He could take that the wrong way.
BEN: You don't want me to visit?
ME: I don't want you to remember my face.
BEN: It's a beautiful face.
ME: It's a scarred face.
BEN: Scars are beautiful. Especially on you.
ME: I look like Jack Skellington.
BEN: You have a broken mirror. You look like a princess.
ME: Thank you.
BEN: You're welcome.
A few minutes go by and I think we're done texting, so I pick up Gone Girl but keep the phone next to me. “My throat was clenching and unclenching like a heart,” is all I keep reading. I can't get to the next sentence, because I'm hoping so much that Ben texts back. Maybe I should just text him and say, "You can come up."
Fortunately, I don't have to make such a ridiculously easy decision that I'm nearly incapable of making, since my phone dings again, and it's Ben.
BEN: So. Is tomorrow good?
ME: To visit?
BEN: No. To fly to Naples.
ME: lol. Naples? Did you just tell me to go to hell?
BEN: What? No. Why?
ME: Doesn't Finabala or something like that mean go to hell?
BEN: lol. It means go to Naples, yes, which essentially means go to hell. But that is NOT what I said AT ALL. BTW, you know Italian?
ME: Just some bad words.
BEN: I don't believe that. Then again, you are friends with Holly.
ME: Who do you think taught them to me?
BEN: Ah. Anyway, can I visit YOU tomorrow?
ME: Do you know where I live?
BEN: I was hoping you would tell me.
ME: Ok.
BEN: Thank you. Is noon okay?
ME: Yeah. Noon is good.
BEN: Good. Now I just need your address.
ME: 83 Brown Road
BEN: Great. I'll GPS it.
ME: Good luck. It's in the boondocks.
BEN: 83 Brown Road, Boondocks. Got it. ;)
ME: lol
BEN: Goodnight, pretty lady.
ME: Goodnight, Ben.
I set my phone aside, lie down on my pillow, and
***
So I'm home now.
It's Halloween.
And I still have disparaging thoughts about myself.
One of them being how fitting this holiday is for a one-legged Skellington like me. I don't answer the door for trick-or-treaters. My mother or sisters do that. I stay in my room and read. And answer Holly's texts every now and then.
My mother presented me with a smart phone as a welcome-home gift. She must have told Holly I had a phone again, because all day long she's been texting me. Most of them about how hot Ben Falco is and how he'd be perfect for me. I don't encourage her by agreeing, because I really don't want to talk about him. She can be relentless though. The texts have slowed up tonight, though, because the bar is probably slammed with customers. Part of me wishes I were there. I miss my old life.
It's about eight forty at night when I get a text from an unfamiliar number.
TEXT: Hi, Rose. Thinking about you. Hope everything's cool. *Ben
Ben?
Holly must have given him my number. My mother doesn't even know he exists. I don't think she was paying much attention the day she came into Orange, and we were sitting together.
Do I respond?
I don't know.
I toss the phone onto the bed and open my book, not knowing what to say to him right now. The words on the page of Gone Girl run together in one long fuzzy train of letters. Putting it aside, I pick up my phone and stare at Ben's text.
After several long minutes, I text back.
ME: Hi.
I know. Lame. But... Is everything cool? Not really. Did I want to say, "Thanks for thinking of me?" No.
So...Hi. That's the best I can think of. Maybe I suffered more brain damage than they think.
Right away, I get a text back.
BEN: Hi. :) I'd like to see you soon. Going stir crazy in the house. My mother's driving me nuts.
ME: Oh.
So lame. So lame. So lame.
BEN: Can I visit?
Shit.
I guess I don't text him quickly enough, because I get another ding.
BEN: No pressure. I'll use my imagination to remember your face.
ME: Please don't.
Uh oh. He could take that the wrong way.
BEN: You don't want me to visit?
ME: I don't want you to remember my face.
BEN: It's a beautiful face.
ME: It's a scarred face.
BEN: Scars are beautiful. Especially on you.
ME: I look like Jack Skellington.
BEN: You have a broken mirror. You look like a princess.
ME: Thank you.
BEN: You're welcome.
A few minutes go by and I think we're done texting, so I pick up Gone Girl but keep the phone next to me. “My throat was clenching and unclenching like a heart,” is all I keep reading. I can't get to the next sentence, because I'm hoping so much that Ben texts back. Maybe I should just text him and say, "You can come up."
Fortunately, I don't have to make such a ridiculously easy decision that I'm nearly incapable of making, since my phone dings again, and it's Ben.
BEN: So. Is tomorrow good?
ME: To visit?
BEN: No. To fly to Naples.
ME: lol. Naples? Did you just tell me to go to hell?
BEN: What? No. Why?
ME: Doesn't Finabala or something like that mean go to hell?
BEN: lol. It means go to Naples, yes, which essentially means go to hell. But that is NOT what I said AT ALL. BTW, you know Italian?
ME: Just some bad words.
BEN: I don't believe that. Then again, you are friends with Holly.
ME: Who do you think taught them to me?
BEN: Ah. Anyway, can I visit YOU tomorrow?
ME: Do you know where I live?
BEN: I was hoping you would tell me.
ME: Ok.
BEN: Thank you. Is noon okay?
ME: Yeah. Noon is good.
BEN: Good. Now I just need your address.
ME: 83 Brown Road
BEN: Great. I'll GPS it.
ME: Good luck. It's in the boondocks.
BEN: 83 Brown Road, Boondocks. Got it. ;)
ME: lol
BEN: Goodnight, pretty lady.
ME: Goodnight, Ben.
I set my phone aside, lie down on my pillow, and
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