9
Beth
Beth sat in the center of the bed, staring at a blank TV. It had taken her almost all morning to find the motivation to get dressed, her mind set to repeat Ben’s words. Only a few stood out, flicking through her brain on a loop. Moping, distant, different… she was all of those things, but she couldn’t find the fix-it button. If she had the answer, she would’ve given it to him. She would’ve given him anything to make this… whatever it was… go away.
She linked her fingers behind her head and pulled her face down into her lap. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked herself, hoping for the answer to magically pop into her mind, but all she got was the buzzing sound of silence. Yesterday had been nothing short of perfect, and the night they shared was equally as beautiful. She had drifted off into a dreamless sleep, with a bright hope for when the sun rose.
But sleep… sleep was her reset button, in the worst possible way this time.
A knock came at the door, and she barely lifted her head. The only visitor she’d had was Bertha, wondering if she planned on ordering breakfast. She was in and out so quickly Beth had forgotten she had even been there.
She tilted her head to look at the time… just past noon. But food didn’t even sound appealing.
“Nothing for me, Bertha, thanks,” she tried to say in a voice that would carry through the thick wood of the door. Her lips pursed together as she waited for a response, though Bertha didn’t seem like the type to make unnecessary chitchat.
There was a curious scratch, followed by the high-pitched whine of a dog. Beth straightened on the bed.
“Hello?”
“Beth? It’s Amanda. Do you have a second?”
She bit her lip, unsure if she really wanted company. The tipping point was the fact that Amanda had been so sweet and helpful over the past few days, the least she could do was give her a few minutes of her time.
Her knees cracked as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, pins in her feet from sitting for so long.
“Hey,” Amanda said brightly when Beth opened the door. Her black lab sat diligently near her leg, panting a little from the walk across the property. “I heard Ben was working on the car all day. Thought maybe you’d like to get out, explore the town? We can grab some lunch, on me.”
Beth felt a small smile twitch in the corner of her mouth, and she tried as hard as she could to widen it. “That’s so sweet of you to offer, but I… I’m okay.”
Amanda arched an eyebrow, brushing a strand of golden hair across her forehead. “You worried about all the attention you might get after your epic day?”
“That was insane,” Beth said with a laugh. “I still can’t wrap my head around how Ben was able to get a town full of people to help complete strangers have a good time.”
She shrugged. “It was only a few of us.”
“It felt like the entire town… who are all the nicest people ever.”
Amanda chuckled. “It was partly selfish. Community coming together to make sure the visitors have a good time. I expect a good rating on Yelp.”
The joke lightened her mood, even if it was just a little bit. Beth decided to play along. “I’ll make sure to highly praise everyone at Mountain Ridge. Even Bertha, who honestly, kind of scares me.”
“Ha! She’ll love that. She’s nice, too. Just very no-nonsense.”
“And Ben and I are two very nonsensical people.”
“That’s why we all like you.” She reached down and patted the lab’s side. “Well… I promise to keep you far away from JT’s. Shelby will probably want the 4-1-1, and if you’d rather not talk about the big date—”
“It’s not that,” Beth quickly interjected. She didn’t mind the attention, if she was being honest. It was the fact that she didn’t mind much of anything, and that felt extremely off. She wanted to find her personality again before going out and meeting new people.
Amanda tilted her head, her dog following her lead almost so perfectly it made Beth giggle a little.
“I’m just… I don’t mind eating here, watching TV, reading till Ben gets back.”
“You sure? Final offer.”
She nodded, almost like it was a reflex, even though she wasn’t sure at all.
Amanda smiled, lifting a shoulder slightly. “Okay. Just give me a buzz if you change your mind. I’ll be around.”
A wave of guilt crashed through her, which was as unsettling as it was welcomed. Even though she felt angry at herself for being so standoffish to someone who was so genuinely caring, she was grateful to be feeling an appropriate emotion.
The black lab’s tag jingled as he got to his feet and followed his owner down the two steps she took to get to the ground. Before Beth could fully close the door, Amanda swiveled and pinned her with a look filled with concern.
“Sorry if I’m overstepping, but… are you okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“I know a fake smile when I see one.”
Her heart fell flat. She knew she’d been obvious with Ben—how could she hide without him noticing—but she thought she was pretty good in front of other people. In fact, she had been pretty sure she had it down to an art.
“I…”
“I’m sorry,” she said, and she looked like she really meant it. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’ll keep my nose out.”
She patted her thigh, beckoning the dog to start walking. Beth tapped the doorframe, heart beating so fast she felt it in her throat. Back in New York, she’d had plenty of girlfriends, and she was rarely ever shy about sharing any tiff she’d gotten into with Ben with them. They’d always made her feel better about it.
But was this different now that she was different? Was talking to a person she’d only known for six days even going to help?
Before she could argue with herself any further, she dropped her hand from the doorframe and took a step outside.
“We got in a fight,” she blurted. Amanda stopped in her tracks.
“You and Ben?” Two wrinkles appeared above her nose. “After last night, I didn’t picture you two fighting for another hundred years.”
Beth’s shoulders slumped, and she covered her eyes with one hand. “It was my fault. I… I think I have a problem.”
Pine needles and leaves crunched, and Beth looked up to see Amanda slowly making her way back to her. She waved an arm, inviting both her and her lab inside. This conversation was probably worth sitting down for.
Beth took a spot on the fold out couch, Amanda sitting on the opposite end with her dog at her feet. She suddenly felt awkward, like she should ask if they needed water or something.
Yeah, that’s good. “Would you like something to drink before I tell you my life story?” What in the world had she been thinking?
Amanda must’ve picked up on the tone of the room. “You want to order some lunch?”
Yes, food would help fill any more weird silences. “I could go for that.”
“Okay,” she said, digging into her pocket for her phone. “You talk, I’ll text Bertha to bring a couple of lunch specials.”
The opening was just the push Beth needed. Without Amanda looking at her expectantly, she dove into what started it all.
“About a year ago, Ben and I moved from New York to Idaho. I lost my job, and we went looking for a place that was a little cheaper—a lot cheaper—to start a home, new life, etcetera.”
Amanda nodded, clicking her phone off and going back to her interested gaze. Beth bit her lip and tried to concentrate on just over Amanda’s shoulder.
“I used to be so lively in New York. It was where I grew up, where most of my friends and family live… and losing my job and having to move just felt like… failing. I tried to snap out of it, tried to remind myself that Ben was my life and that I had absolutely nothing to feel bad about. I got a new job right away making decent money, Ben was happy at his new job, our house is nice and the neighborhood is friendly. There’s nothing to be upset or distraught over, but…”
She stopped, trying to put into words exactly how her body felt. The truth was, it wasn’t sadness. It wasn’t anger or regret or disappointment, it was… it was nothing. It was the nothingness that was dragging her down.
“I just feel… nothing. And everything. Sometimes I feel completely overwhelmed and then other times completely empty. This morning I woke up and just knew… I knew it was going to be a bad day. There was this dark cloud in the pit of my stomach, and my limbs would barely move. I knew there was so much I should do, so much I should want to do… roll over and kiss Ben, thank him for the best day of my life, make plans to continue our trip, maybe go outside and see the town without the Disney decor… I had all these thoughts, yet I laid there, not acting on a single one, and not caring enough to change it.”
She paused, waiting for some sort of reaction from Amanda, but she received only the same sympathetic concentration. A low sigh escaped her.
“It’s like I’m a broken toy, missing a part that is buried somewhere no one can find, and I don’t know where to tell anyone to look.”
Amanda’s gaze finally dropped; the way she mindlessly stroked her dog made Beth believe she was either working up the courage to say what she thought, or she didn’t know where to begin.
“I know I don’t know you from Adam,” she started, “but… this sounds a lot like depression, Beth.”
Just like that, a blanket fell over her, cocooning her in its warmth. She’d thought that. She’d considered it time and time again, but dismissed it quickly. She had no idea how much she needed to hear someone else use the word, how much she needed that validation—that she was not just faking, she was not just imagining it, that she was not just moping around or acting like a child. This was a legitimate disease… a disorder she was dealing with, and a rush of hot, wet tears rose to the surface.
“You really think?”
Amanda bit her lip, probably unsure of the reason behind Beth’s tears. “Maybe… See, I lost my father a while back, and it wasn’t until I had people to talk to about how I was feeling, or not feeling, that I was finally able to move on. Get some closure.” She reached over tentatively and patted Beth’s hand. “Your life changed, you have new responsibilities, a new atmosphere, probably some pressure you didn’t have before—the pressure not to fail. Sometimes when we get so overwhelmed, our mind shuts down completely, thinking it’s going to protect us from it all.”
That made sense… and the fact that it made sense caused her heart to beat out of rhythm. “Does it ever stop?”
Amanda shrugged. “I’m not an expert. I know there are ways to have more good days than bad. And it all starts with talking to someone, not hiding it or keeping it so close to you. How many people have you told?”
“One.”
“Just Ben?”
“No…” She bit her lip, a blush creeping into her cheeks. “One including you.”
Amanda let out a long breath, almost sounding amused. “You’ve got to talk to Ben.”
She shook her head hard. “He didn’t sign up for this. What if this is a lifelong thing? What if I never get any better? I can’t do that to him. He deserves the girl he fell for—the outgoing, spunky Beth who’s buried under ten thousand layers of darkness.”
“That man loves you.” This time, Amanda grabbed her hands, holding them tight for emphasis. “Everyone can see it when they meet you both. It’s in your eyes, his eyes, in the way you move together, interact with each other and with other people. Trust me, he’s in it for the long haul… and so are you.”
“But I couldn’t…” A tear slipped off her nose, splashing onto Amanda’s wrist. “I don’t want to be this person anymore. Not for him, not for me.”
“Beth, you have to talk to him. He’ll give you the reassurance you won’t get anywhere else. He’ll carry this burden with you, and with both of you carrying it, things won’t seem so hopeless. Promise me you’ll go talk to him.”
Beth wriggled her hand from out of Amanda’s grasp, using the heel to wipe away some tear residue on her cheek. “Why are you so nice? I’m just some nobody who got stranded in your town.”
“Because you’re good people,” she simply said. “Because I think you need to hear it. And nobody is a nobody.”
She let that sink in, let it warm her heart and seep into her thoughts where she’d never forget it. Nobody is a nobody. Including her.
Her fear began to dissipate, replaced with urgency to go to Ben, tell him what she needed to, and let him help her through this. She blinked her final tears away and felt her lips tilt upward.
“Thank you.”
Amanda squeezed her hand before letting go. “Now that’s a real smile.”