hadn’t.
Ben seemed oblivious to the Jason's discomfort over the incident. “I think I hear water.”
Jason tilted his head, listening. It took a second, but then he detected the faint gurgling of a stream. Odd that Ben couldn’t feel the cold air or smell the breeze, but he could hear better than Jason. “It sounds like it’s close.”
They crested a small hill. Below them, a tiny stream tumbled over a sunken, rocky bed. A few evergreens lay on the far side, but otherwise, everything around them was brown.
“Oh,” Ben sighed. “This is my new best day.”
“Your ‘new best day’?”
“Yes! Isn’t it beautiful?”
Jason searched Ben’s face for some sign of sarcasm, but found none. “It’ll be a lot better in the spring.”
“Will you bring me back then?” Ben asked hopefully. “If you still own the globe?”
“Of course,” Jason said, surprised more at the latter question than the former. “You don’t think I’d throw it away now, do you? Not knowing you’re inside.”
“I don’t know. I hope not. Then again, you didn’t ask for this. Maybe you’d just as soon not be stuck with some weirdo nobody else can see.”
Jason shook his head, watching the stream, trying to pinpoint why Ben’s words bothered him so much. No, he hadn’t asked for this. He certainly hadn’t expected it. But it wasn’t unwelcome. On the contrary, the idea of discarding the globe now, given what he knew, felt like the most heartless kind of betrayal. Besides, he liked talking to Ben. He liked hearing Ben’s bright laughter and seeing his astonished joy at everything from walking outside to the ability to pause live TV.
He liked . . .
He liked having a friend.
The simple realization surprised him. After spending most of his life in Hollywood, he couldn’t name a single person other than Dylan who he counted as a kindred spirit. He’d always been comfortable with his solitude, and yet suddenly it struck him as rather pathetic that nobody but Dylan and Natalie knew or cared where he was. And with that startling assessment of his life came a new realization: he wouldn’t have traded the hours he’d had with Ben for anything.
He glanced over at his new companion. Ben stood watching him, a bare branch sticking absurdly through his translucent head. Jason couldn’t help but smile.
“Believe it or not,” Jason said at last, “this is the best day I’ve had in a really long time too.”
The next day dawned windy and bitterly cold, the heavy skies threatening snow, but never making good. In the warmth of his rose-festooned living room, Jason pulled out his laptop, determined to trace his family tree back to its Tennessee roots so he could find the place where his ancestors overlapped with Ben’s family.
“I guess the logical first step would be to call my parents.” But it was the last thing he wanted to do.
Ben must have heard the reluctance in Jason’s voice. “I’ve noticed you never talk about your family. You don’t get along with them?”
They were sitting on the couch, Jason’s open laptop on the coffee table in front of him. Ben had seen it before, but he always watched it warily, as if expecting it to misbehave. The wind buffeted the house, rattling the windows in their panes, and Jason sighed, not wanting to get into it. “It’s not that we don’t get along so much as we have no use for each other. My dad’s a stockbroker, and he’s always busy. And my mom . . .” He glanced over at Ben, remembering what he’d said about how children were viewed in the nineteenth century. “I was a commodity. And at this point, I have no value.”
“You mean you made money for them when you were a kid, but now your money is all your own?”
“Well, that too. But it wasn’t about money so much as bragging rights, and there’s no glamour being the mother of a has-been.”
Ben shook his head and scooted a bit farther away from the computer. “You’re not a ‘has-been.’ And
Ben seemed oblivious to the Jason's discomfort over the incident. “I think I hear water.”
Jason tilted his head, listening. It took a second, but then he detected the faint gurgling of a stream. Odd that Ben couldn’t feel the cold air or smell the breeze, but he could hear better than Jason. “It sounds like it’s close.”
They crested a small hill. Below them, a tiny stream tumbled over a sunken, rocky bed. A few evergreens lay on the far side, but otherwise, everything around them was brown.
“Oh,” Ben sighed. “This is my new best day.”
“Your ‘new best day’?”
“Yes! Isn’t it beautiful?”
Jason searched Ben’s face for some sign of sarcasm, but found none. “It’ll be a lot better in the spring.”
“Will you bring me back then?” Ben asked hopefully. “If you still own the globe?”
“Of course,” Jason said, surprised more at the latter question than the former. “You don’t think I’d throw it away now, do you? Not knowing you’re inside.”
“I don’t know. I hope not. Then again, you didn’t ask for this. Maybe you’d just as soon not be stuck with some weirdo nobody else can see.”
Jason shook his head, watching the stream, trying to pinpoint why Ben’s words bothered him so much. No, he hadn’t asked for this. He certainly hadn’t expected it. But it wasn’t unwelcome. On the contrary, the idea of discarding the globe now, given what he knew, felt like the most heartless kind of betrayal. Besides, he liked talking to Ben. He liked hearing Ben’s bright laughter and seeing his astonished joy at everything from walking outside to the ability to pause live TV.
He liked . . .
He liked having a friend.
The simple realization surprised him. After spending most of his life in Hollywood, he couldn’t name a single person other than Dylan who he counted as a kindred spirit. He’d always been comfortable with his solitude, and yet suddenly it struck him as rather pathetic that nobody but Dylan and Natalie knew or cared where he was. And with that startling assessment of his life came a new realization: he wouldn’t have traded the hours he’d had with Ben for anything.
He glanced over at his new companion. Ben stood watching him, a bare branch sticking absurdly through his translucent head. Jason couldn’t help but smile.
“Believe it or not,” Jason said at last, “this is the best day I’ve had in a really long time too.”
The next day dawned windy and bitterly cold, the heavy skies threatening snow, but never making good. In the warmth of his rose-festooned living room, Jason pulled out his laptop, determined to trace his family tree back to its Tennessee roots so he could find the place where his ancestors overlapped with Ben’s family.
“I guess the logical first step would be to call my parents.” But it was the last thing he wanted to do.
Ben must have heard the reluctance in Jason’s voice. “I’ve noticed you never talk about your family. You don’t get along with them?”
They were sitting on the couch, Jason’s open laptop on the coffee table in front of him. Ben had seen it before, but he always watched it warily, as if expecting it to misbehave. The wind buffeted the house, rattling the windows in their panes, and Jason sighed, not wanting to get into it. “It’s not that we don’t get along so much as we have no use for each other. My dad’s a stockbroker, and he’s always busy. And my mom . . .” He glanced over at Ben, remembering what he’d said about how children were viewed in the nineteenth century. “I was a commodity. And at this point, I have no value.”
“You mean you made money for them when you were a kid, but now your money is all your own?”
“Well, that too. But it wasn’t about money so much as bragging rights, and there’s no glamour being the mother of a has-been.”
Ben shook his head and scooted a bit farther away from the computer. “You’re not a ‘has-been.’ And
Similar Books
