Chapter Nine — Ben
It's only about five hours of being at home on my own before I am bored and not sure what to do with myself. The thing is, I haven't had this much time to myself in forever—and whenever I do, I'm on the treadmill or at the gym or doing something else to better my game. I mean, I take breaks sometimes and play video games. But it's kind of lame playing video games against yourself and only slightly better playing against random people on the internet. But all my friends are at practice or the gym or…
I'm practically tearing out my hair with boredom, and then suddenly it occurs to me that there isn't really any way I'm going to be able to cook dinner for myself anyway. I mean, even when I don't have a huge, awkward cast on my leg, I don't cook for myself. So now, well.
I pick up the phone and call Marissa, whose number I have from when I had to pick her up for that charity event. She answers after the first ring.
“Hey Marissa,” I greet her.
“Ben?” she asks, sounding confused. “Uh, were you trying to reach someone else?”
“No, I was calling to talk to you,” I tell her, smiling a little at how oblivious she is to her charms. “Marissa, I'm bored. I don't know what to do with myself. And I'm hungry, but the doctor said that I'm strictly on bedrest.”
“So what do you want me to do, come over and cook for you?” Marissa asks, scoffing, and I'm struck again by how not like normal girls she is. Most women would be jumping at the chance to play nursemaid to me; Marissa sounds almost as though it's the last thing she wants to do.
“Well, you wouldn't have to cook for me,” I say. “You could just bring takeout.”
“You could also just order takeout,” Marissa points out. She sounds distracted, as though she's working on something else while she's talking to me. I can almost picture her there at her desk, her long hair falling messily out of its ponytail.
“I know, but that wouldn't solve my boredom,” I whine pitifully. “I just want to curl up on the couch with someone and watch a movie.”
Marissa sighs quietly. “Ben, I'm sure there are some other women that you can call up—even with that cast on your leg, you can probably arrange a whole orgy there in your penthouse.” She immediately makes a noise like she can't believe those words came out of her mouth, and I stifle a laugh.
“Are you at work right now?” I ask her.
“Yeah,” she says. “I'm trying to finish up the story about the children's hospital—but it has to have something about how you're out for the season now, I guess.”
“Do you have to remind me?” I ask with a grimace. I'd already had a long conversation that morning with Barry when he'd come to pick me up from the hospital. The last thing I needed right now was to spend any more time thinking about my job—and I would think she would know that.
“Sorry,” she says sincerely. “Fine, I'll come over after work—around six or so. But seriously, Ben, no funny business this time. I don't need-”
“No funny business,” I agree, before she can start listing anything out. Hey, if she doesn't specifically say I can't do it, it means I've never agreed not to, right? That's my philosophy, anyway. “I'll be on my best behavior.”
“All right,” Marissa says, sounding as though maybe she doesn't believe me. But she doesn't retract her offer to come over. “I'll bring some food.”
“And beer?” I ask, making my voice especially pitiful.
“I don't know if you should be drinking alcohol with all the painkillers that you're taking,” Marissa says, sounding uncertain.
“I'm not taking the painkillers anymore,” I lie, glancing towards the bottle sitting suspiciously close to my position on the couch. Sure, it might not be the most responsible thing, drinking while I'm taking painkillers, but it won't be the first time I've done it. Anyway, I'm out for the rest of the season, so. It's not like I'm going to get too drunk for practice or anything like that. I can't practice anyways.
That thought hurts—all the more reason to get some alcohol in my system, so that I can forget about that.
“Fine,” Marissa says, but I can tell even over the phone that she's shaking her head. “Is there anything else that you need, your majesty?”
I grin a little. “Well-”
“Never mind, I don't want to hear your answer to that,” she interrupts quickly.
I laugh. “Just get here soon,” I implore her. “I'm practically dying here.”
“All right, all right,” she says. “Let me get back to work so that I can finish up here.”