Fade In (39 page)

Ben
: I'm still Ben.

Then I cried again, reassuring myself that it'll be the last night of crying. That the next day, I'm leaving my apartment and getting on with things.

I'll call Neil. We'll find me another personal assistant and a new optometrist. I'm going to go to work and start working on season openers for Just Kidding and try like hell not to feel the ache in my chest anymore.

Neil is more than happy to help me find another PA. He actually interviews everyone himself first and then lets me choose from three. Why didn't we do this before?

I don't bother calling Dr. Meade's office. Instead, I ask my new doctor, Dr. Meyer, have his staff call for my records. Charlotte leaves me a few voicemails and asks me to call her back, also leaving Dr. Meade's personal cell phone number for me to call him. I never do.

I'm still a clean-break kind of girl. Some things don't ever change, and I'm a little glad to find one of them.

The Devons have been working in the office for a few weeks already. Devon and Cynthia are an official couple, approved by HR and everything. They're very cute and I hate it. My desk gets moved to the other wall that very day so that I don't have to face reception and watch their heartwarming antics.

Winnie returns that Friday, bringing me chocolate and shoes. I let her in, having to know her side of story before I'd decide if our long-term relationship can rebound. Secretly, I know deep down that I have to forgive her and Cooper eventually. However, up until then, I’m just not ready to hear any of it.

“Can I come in?” she asks timidly in my doorway on my third day back.

“Whatever.” Yeah, not my most prolific moment. “Shut the door. Please.”

“I like the new arrangement. It looks bigger in here.” She noses around, feigning interest in the new furniture set-up.

“Cut the crap, Gwendolyn. What did you know? And when did you know it?” Still not in the mood for lighthearted banter, I go straight to the point. “Honestly, Tatum, I didn't know until our wedding night. After we—” I gag and that stops her before she says anything that will gross me out. She knows the rules. “Well, you know, we were talking about what you'd told me earlier about how you are in—” My hand flies up to indicate that there will be no talk of what I said. This was a bad idea. “Right. Anyway, we were talking about
that
and Cooper said that
he
had said
that
same thing
to him about you and spilled his guts to him a few weeks ago.” She sits in her favorite chair in front of my desk tentatively. “I was pretty pissed, Tate. Cooper told
him
that if
he
didn't tell you by the time we were back we were going to, but Be—” My now-shaking hand cuts through the air again, waving for her to halt once more. “Right.
He
said
he
was telling you after the wedding that night.”

Considering that she didn't know much sooner than I did, I side with cutting her some slack. She didn't even have a chance to tell me.

“Well, since you didn't have much time to tell me
and
it was your wedding day, you’re off the hook.”

She smiles before she thinks better of her timing and tames it down to a sympathetic grin. “What about Cooper? He's really worried and really, really sorry, Tatum. Will you please talk to him? He looks like shit.” Winnie's plight is pretty convincing.

And I miss my brother.

“All right, I'll call him,” I relent.

“So how are you?” I can see the earnest concern in her pretty brown eyes.

“I'm fine.” I brush some dust that isn't there off my desk and steel myself. “The season opener looks to be pretty badass. Wes will be in tomorrow and we can go over everything we have so far. The Devons shot a bunch of off-the-wall things over the summer. It's going to be a great season.” All of that is true, and it's all I've got right now.

“That's good, but you didn't answer my question. How are you doing?” Winnie asks, pointing at me, giving me the ‘tell me’ best-friend eyes.

I look to the sky for some help or something, because I have to tell her. That bitch won't let up. I can already feel that all-too-common swell of emotion in my gut.

“Well, I lost my personal assistant, my boyfriend, and my optometrist of over twelve years. What's left of my sight is tanking and my heart is broken.” I have to stop and take a deep breath. I squeak out, “So, I've been better.” My lip does that Goddamned twitchy thing that I know means the burning eyes are straight ahead and I try to stop, actively attempting to right my face.

Winnie brings herself around the desk and plops her big, beautiful ass on my lap, smoothing back my hair on my face. “Have you talked to him?”

“No. I don't want to,” I pout against my will. Why did I let her in here?

“Don't you think that he could explain things?” Her voice is soft and soothing as she tries to comfort me.

I break a little, and I don't hide the tears from her, because I can't. “He lied to me, Winnie. He was a therapist. He was probably just trying to fix me, but he just broke me more. I feel so stupid. I thought I loved him, but I didn't even know him. How dumb is that?”

Only good friends will cry with you, and Winnie's the best. She's blubbering and reaching for the whole box of Kleenex, putting them on her lap, which is perched on top of mine.

“It all couldn't have been lies. He loves you too. I just know it. Tate, he told Cooper does.”

“He didn't tell me.” Then I correct, “Well, he told me once.” My eyes meet her mascara-messed eyes. “When I left.”

She makes a sympathetic O-face, squeezing my shoulders in a hug. “You poor thing.”

“He was probably just saying it to get me to stay. I don't know.” That's that part that always confuses me.

I shake my head to clear it. I blow my nose and kick Winnie off of me.

“I'm going to be fine. I have you guys.” I hope that'll be enough. “Besides, he only texted me once and I haven't heard from him.”

“Cooper called him and left him a message. He didn't call back but sent a text the next day asking if you were okay.” Her voice rises towards the end. Winnie's hopeful face is asking me what I think.

“Did my ass-hat brother text him back?”

She shakes her head. “He didn't know what to say.”

When Winnie finally leaves my office, I send Cooper a message.

Me
: You're a dick. I still love you though.

He replies quickly.

Cooper
: I love you, too, Tater.

Cooper and I make up. He apologizes over and over, and frankly, I start feeling bad for him. He's my brother and I know that he didn't mean to hurt me. He even stood up for Ben, saying that I should have heard him out.

I put the kibosh on that that conversation and compromise that I'll only be his sister again if he doesn't bring it up anymore.

Just Kidding starts the season with amazing momentum and is bought into syndication. Reruns! That doesn't mean a lot to most, but to me it means that we did something right. The new shows are getting a lot of attention, and Winnie, Wes, and I even elect to hire a few new cast members.

A couple of weeks into the season, Winnie receives a movie offer and swears to keep her commitments to the show, but after Wes and I band together and promise to fire her if she doesn't take the offer, she finally accepts.

My little Winnie will be filming a movie this winter where she's the lead. It's a romantic comedy, so I'm not going to see it even if my stupid eyes still work. I still don't have the stomach to watch anything to do with fictionally happy people.

I've started seeing a Braille tutor, and I’m learning how to use a handy little device to type, should my sight fall away completely.

I'm taking care of business. And truthfully, I’m quite proud. I can either face this thing head-on or let it drag me under. It took a little while after Coop and Winnie's wedding for me to get back on track, but I'm actually feeling strong.

Still, the days have turned into weeks and then into months, but I haven't heard from him. Not once.

The only thing I have left is the damn letter. Phil pitched the flowers as instructed, but he didn't scrap the letter that had been tucked inside of them. Instead, he put it in my mailbox.

I knew it was from him, the handwriting too familiar. I left it in box, deciding that was a good place for it to stay.

I told my new assistant, Jenn, when she was hired to leave it in there when she brings my mail up, but she brought it anyway. I found it on the counter yesterday afternoon.

We're supposed to be getting a massive storm, and I've told Jenn to cut out early today. Everyone is making a huge deal out of it, but I just bought more wine and ice cream.

Sandy-schmandy. Hurricane Sandy will be yesterday’s news by tomorrow.

The weather stations are predicting it to be the biggest hurricane to hit New York, maybe ever. But I'm a tough New Yorker and pretty much think that they're talking bullshit. I saw people at the store buying water and milk just like they did for Irene, insisting that the world was going to end.

Most of the schools are already canceled for tomorrow, and we told everyone to just stay home. It began raining this afternoon, and into the evening it is still coming down in sheets.

Cooper calls to see what my plan is and to know if I want to go there. I refuse, saying that I'm fine and not to worry. It's just a storm.

The more wine I drink, the more Ben's letter beckons to me from the kitchen.

Read me.
Tick-tock. Drink.
Read me.
Repeat.

I finally break down and rip it open. I don't even bother sitting, choosing to stand and read it at the counter.

Tatum,

I wish I would have caught you before you left yesterday. I came by your room. It's killing me that I'm writing you all of this in a letter, but I'm at a loss for what to do.

My name is Benjamin Meade. Dr. Benjamin Meade—for the sake of clarity.

I know you don't remember the first day we met. You were leaving my brother's office. I'd met him in the city for lunch and you had an appointment with him after we returned. I know it wasn't right, but I eavesdropped on the whole thing. Something about you seized me. I couldn't help myself. I heard your voice laughing and I was so captivated. (I still am.)

My heart recognized yours even before we'd met, I think.

Then you left. Or I thought you did.

Then, you ran into me and knocked me down. Remember? That was me. Ben Meade. I was still a student. You were so frantic and perfectly insane. You had on a blue dress and looked beautiful. I remember, you had on these funny underwear and were running late for an interview. You were a force I couldn't tear my eyes from.

We parted that day, and I wondered for the longest time where the funny girl was or what you were doing. What would have happened if I'd taken that cab with you or got your phone number.

That one encounter always stood out in my mind. You didn't know it then, and you wouldn't know it now if I weren't telling you, but just the thought of you helped me through a lot of rough times.

My best friend, Keith Harris, who I told you a little about, came back from Afghanistan that week you ran into me. Well, what was left of him did. I don't think he really ever came back to tell you the truth. He was broken and hurt far greater than the hospitals could mend.

I had gone to school to become a therapist, mostly to help people like my parents deal with life and help trauma patients recover.

But I couldn't help Keith. I was there for him as much as I could've been, but eventually he died of an overdose.

I left my residency and job and Washington. I came to New York get away for a while and figure out things.

I was furious at myself. I couldn't help him and I’d been trained to. I let him down, and that was something I couldn't face. I didn't even know if I wanted to.

Then, I heard your voice again. I was in my brother's office bringing by some papers for my apartment and you were there. I stayed in the back.

That was another mistake. I should have just gone up and said hello to you that day. I should have. I didn't. I heard my brother telling you about seeing a psychiatrist and how you didn't want to. I heard everything you talked about. And I agreed.

It was the wrong thing, but I looked up your address in their files after you left. I had to see you. Somehow get to know you.

It was totally coincidental that you were having interviews that day. I still don't know what drew me to your door. I didn't know what I'd say when you opened the door or if you would even be home. That part is a mystery to even me.

I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I wanted to so many times. In Seattle, when I was dealing with grief about Keith, I wanted to tell you then. There were other times too, almost every day.

I'm sorry that I wasn't strong enough to be myself, to be a man you deserve. It was stupid. The irony of telling you to open up isn't lost me. I know how hard it was for you. Hell, it was so hard I couldn't even do it.

I was lost, too. I'd lost my best friend when I should have been the one to help him. So, when I saw an opportunity to start over, even for just a little while, I took it.