Ask Ben Solo

Ben Solo, 25, UNaboo Class of 28ABY. Secretorial staff for the office of Senator Organa. JULY 12, 31ABY!!!!!!

[askbensolo]

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Hi, I’m Ben, Nice to Meet You (2025 novel) Posts by tag

What UP I’m Ben! Yes, my parents were Rebellion heroes. Yes, my uncle is the last Jedi Knight. Me…I’m just try’na make it through my twenties without succumbing to total cosmic darkness. Just kidding. Maybe.

I do still answer asks! I just don’t get many nowadays, so a lot of this blog is me sittin’ on my butt and flappin’ my mouth. Often while I’m working at Mom’s office. Don’t tell.

[askbensolo]

I think you did the right thing, Ben. Even if it did open up all these other, uh…boxes. That’s never something to joke around with. And judging by your to-do list, it sounds like Fannie is open to therapy finally? (COLLECTIVE SIGH OF RELIEF)

Curious what you could possibly have to share that would make it us all go “yay wedding full steam ahead” though. Besides just getting her citizenship and health insurance. I mean…you did just have her hospitalized dude. Usually people are having bachelor/bachelorette parties around this time. Not spending all night in the Space ER.

I do want to ask, how much is your family willing to help you with all the money stuff? I know they care about you a lot. I have a hard time believing they’d just let you go broke.

Thanks, yeah…that really means a lot to me. Fannie says she never would have gone through with it, and maybe she wouldn’t have…but I wasn’t gonna take that chance.

And yeah—she did finally agree to start talking with someone. Which I was also relieved by at first, but…well…I can tell you more about that later.

So…here’s the thing. You’re probably not gonna be on board with the wedding, no matter what I say. Even if I tell you how much better she’s seemed since getting out of the medcenter, and how much more committed she’s been to her mental health and the health of our relationship.

But I don’t care what anyone else thinks. It’s my call to make, and I’m making it. Wedding’s back on.

Fannie didn’t force me to prove anything before moving forward with me, so I’m putting my faith in what she says and moving forward with her. She says she’s had a change of heart; she looks to me like she’s doing better—I’m going with my gut on this. Yes, there are some logistical factors at play, all the stupid adulting stuff that will go a lot smoother if we’re married—but I don’t think that factoring those into my decision means my decision is automatically wrong.

Which…actually ties in perfectly with your question about my family.

So…you’re right. My parents have my back. They would never let me end up homeless or starving. I’m not worried about that.

What I am worried about is becoming entirely financially dependent on them. ‘Cause then I wouldn’t be able to go anywhere or do anything without their approval. And one thing they already don’t approve of—and yes, I know, hardly anybody does—is the wedding.

I had told my mom last week about possibly postponing the wedding. Mom was very relieved about that. Extremely relieved. Which meant that she’s been feeling iffy about it for a while, and was simply holding her tongue. (Holding her tongue when she has opinions about my life? Character growth.)

But her tongue was held no longer when I brought Fannie home from the medcenter, and announced, actually, we’re all good now and the wedding’s still on.

My mother is a politician. Two days after I brought Fannie home, I received this offer:

Cancel the wedding, and Mom will eat all costs incurred by Fannie’s little law-enforcement-defiance-and-hospitalization adventure. Plus pay into the wedding budget a second time, when we’re actually “ready” to get married, effectively ameliorating all my sunk wedding costs.

Or…

Don’t cancel the wedding. And Ben and Fannie get to pay for everything themselves, and probably have to live with Ben’s mom and dad forever.

I can’t help but respect a strong negotiation. She put me in a corner, all right.

And I hate being put in a corner. So guess which option I’m going with.

Yes, I know. I know I sound insane for picking Option #2. I know I will not be able to give Fannie the kind of life we might have wanted, to have a place of our own and nice things and an open horizon for the future.

But…think about it. Option #1 basically means my mom gets to decide when me and my wife are ready to be married.

My mom.

My mom has been trying to control my life ever since I came out of the womb. First it was the Jedi school thing. Seventeen years of her trying to ship me off to the Jedi school, and she only backed off of that after I had my own little hospitalization adventure. Then it was the opposite. Then she didn’t want me to leave home. She didn’t want me to go away to college; she wanted me to stay at home with her—I spent the next four years on Naboo calling her every day—SHE WANTED ME TO CALL HER EVERY DAY—and trying to prove to her I was an adult—and then freaking You-Know-Who came back, as if ONLY to screw with me, and when Mom found out about that, she forced me to quit my job—QUIT MY WRITING JOB I STUDIED JOURNALISM I LITERALLY FORGET I HAVE A JOURNALISM DEGREE BECAUSE IT IS NOT BEING USED AND WILL PROBABLY NEVER BE USED AGAIN I WORK AN ENTRY-LEVEL POSITION THAT I ONLY HAVE BECAUSE MY MOTHER PITY-HIRED ME SO YEAH MY MOM IS IN CHARGE OF MY CAREER TOO—and move back home and not only that, she had me sleeping in my parents’ room at age twenty-four—wouldn’t let me drive the speeder—made me come to work with her every day when I was still unemployed—policed my medication adherence—probably would’ve put me back in kriffing diapers if she could’ve—AND LET US NOT FORGET WHEN I TOLD HER FANNIE AND I MIGHT RAISE PENNIE’S BABY TOGETHER LAST SUMMER SHE JUST WOULDN’T SHUT UP ABOUT HOW I WAS TOOOO YOOOUUUNG EVEN THOUGH SHE WAS YOUNGER THAN ME WHEN SHE HAD ME SO I GUESS I SHOULDN’T EVEN BE SURPRISED—GEEZ LOUISE THE ONLY REASON WHY SHE DIDN’T GIVE ME HELL FOR PROPOSING TO FANNIE IN THE FIRST PLACE WAS ‘CAUSE SHE WAS SOOOOOO RELIEVED IT WASN’T PENNIE WHEN I TOLD HER (the G-rated version of) WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN ME AND PENNIE. NOW THAT I THINK OF IT YEAH THAT’S THE ONLY REASON SHE’S HELD HER TONGUE UP UNTIL NOW

…Sorry. Got real riled up there.

But surely you can SEE. Why now that I’m GETTING MARRIED. I do NOT want her to have her hands in this at ALL.

“But Ben what if you just cancel the wedding and then elope—” That would be breaking the deal and Mom wouldn’t pay for anything.

“But Ben what if you just cancel the wedding and then elope and don’t tell your mom—” First of all, I learned my lesson and I don’t lie to my family anymore, not even when I’m having issues with my mom. Second of all, I am over emulating my grandfather we are not doing the secret marriage thing.

“But Ben what if you do just cancel the wedding and accept her deal it really seems like the better option for your future and you and Fannie probably could use more time anyways” OH SO YOU’RE JUST ON HER SIDE YOU’RE JUST ON HER SIDE WELL EVEN IF I WAS GONNA CANCEL THE WEDDING I SURE WOULDN’T WANNA DO IT ‘CAUSE MY MOM WAS HOLDING MONEY OVER MY HEAD LIKE ARE YOU KIDDING ME

…Sorry. If you couldn’t tell, I have a lot of feelings about this.

And to make it even worse, Dad is on Mom’s side. ‘Cause he has to be.

Ugh…I haven’t explained any of this to Fannie yet. I haven’t even gotten to explaining to her the financial situation at all. I’m scared it’ll make her feel really bad. I know how bad I felt when I learned how much all my medical stuff cost.

But…it’s like I told you. I wasn’t gonna take that chance. End of story.

I did get Greer to approve my time off so I can stay with Fannie for the rest of the week, but…I’m outta sick leave, so I have to take it unpaid. Which definitely doesn’t give me even more money anxiety.

Anyway…I may not post much this week. I really just wanna focus on being there for my wife.

MY WIFE. DID YOU HEAR THAT MOM I SAID MY WIFE

[askbensolo]

Well that was a fricking rollercoaster. Just double checking, everyone is alive, safe, home, and not on the verge of suicide?

You’re tellin’ me. Yeah, everyone is safe now, and thanks for asking…but the ride sure ain’t over yet. The brain dump page in my notebook is insane:

Fan - find therapist - Twi’lek culture, understanding of Jedi beliefs - couple’s counseling?

Medcenter bills - be prepared to see a lot of zeroes. Ask Mom and Dad if I can take out a loan (I will be paying them back literally until they die)

Work - request sick leave to take care of Fan for a few days - ugh, I already took time off for Coruscant, Greer will hate me

How much to tell Fan about money stuff? Don’t want to make her feel guilty - wedding, therapy, mandatory medcenter adventure, follow-up visits, bail for little miss misdemeanor, legal counsel, fines(?)

How to explain to Fan she has to appear in court for chopping off robocop’s arm

Logistical benefits of July wedding: help w/ her naturalization process/help her not get deported - qualifying event to get her on health insurance, wouldn’t cover past stuff but could help with paying for future therapy/treatment - lowkey not gonna be able to afford another wedding after this

Amalia - move to Coruscant - can’t afford anymore :( unless Mal doesn’t charge rent

Fan - open to going back to work? But she doesn’t have normal education credentials or job experience

Convince Connie and Ginnie to attend wedding? Get contact through Mikal (check how he’s doing haven’t talked in forever)

Fan - set aside time to talk about Pennie (I wish she’d just talked about it earlier this is not what we should be spending our time on anymore)

Fan - open to meds? I doubt it

Social worker visits - explain to Fan - help her not freak out if they come to the house while I’m at work

Lightsaber - ask Uncle Luke - how to get it back from the police - Jedi mind tricks unethical?

Write post about convo w/ Fan so my friends don’t think I’m insane for going through w/ the wedding

Convince self I am not insane for going through w/ the wedding

Fan - plan some Regular Normal Bonding Time where I will NOT bring up any legal/financial/medical/wedding planning/unresolved Pennie stuff

Buy blue milk

[askbensolo]

05.31.31 - i guess you could say it didn’t go quite as well as it could’ve

Sorry. I wrote this yesterday and meant to post it earlier, but I’ve…uh…had a lot going on.

The main thing you need to know is that, at 10:15 PM on Friday, May 29th, 31 ABY, I called the cops on Fannie Pentarra.

How did that happen?

Don’t worry. I’ll explain.

Didn’t have anything better to do while I was waiting for her to get discharged.

—

So, on Friday, my plan had been to wait till after dinner to talk to her. One reason for that was, well…I was terrified and wanted to procrastinate a little. A second reason was that I wanted a little time with her beforehand, so I could assess how she was doing and figure out how to approach the conversation. The third reason was that I was starving. I hadn’t eaten all day ‘cause I’d been too nervous to eat, which is all fun and great till your knees are wobbling as you walk up to your house and you feel like you’re about to keel over—in fact I had already caved and eaten one of the chocolates I was bringing home for Fannie.

When Fan had moved in with us at the beginning of the year, she had assumed the responsibility of making dinner for my family. Unlike me, she never struggled to complete this task—no matter how long she spent in bed—and dinner was always hot and ready and delicious at 6 PM (though as the months went on, Fannie herself was not always guaranteed to be present).

She was not present at dinner that night. Usually, I would go up and check on her, and sometimes I would convince her to come back down and sit at the table. Sometimes I would bring up a plate of food for her, but I eventually stopped doing that ‘cause she would always say she had eaten while cooking. And as much as it concerned me that she had started only eating in private…well, she was clearly telling the truth, and I was glad she was eating rather than not.

I should have checked up on her, probably. It would have aligned with Reason #2—assessing her mood so I could figure out what to say—but unfortunately, Reason #1 (procrastination) was very compelling and Reason #3 (hunger) even moreso at that point, so I sat down at the table with my family and ate dinner with them. They had been waiting on me, anyway—I had walked home instead of taking the airbus like usual.

Oh—hold on. Amalia’s calling me. I’d better pick up—I still haven’t really explained to her what happened. Apparently Fannie designated Amalia as an emergency contact instead of me, because she was afraid I wouldn’t want to come to the medcenter for her. Which…would normally make me feel terrible, but I can see how being apprehended by the police and forcibly put in a hospital bed might make her think I was out to get her.

—

Okay, I’m back. I tried to tell Amalia everything is under wraps, but I don’t think she’s fully convinced. She also told me I seemed really weird and checked out. Whaaat? Pshhh I’m totally fine. Anyway.

I finished dinner, and then I helped my dad clear the dishes. My dad may not be Force-sensitive, but he’s gotten to be pretty attuned to me, even if he doesn’t always understand me fully or have all the words to say. He kept looking at me as he washed and I dried, and he glanced backward at the bouquet of flowers and the box of chocolates and the card I’d left on the Solo Family Table For Random Stuff near the front door. And he observed the expression on my face, which probably looked like I was about to be strapped down and subjected to a probe droid, and I think he knew at that point my gifts weren’t just me trying to be sweet.

Dad turned off the water and dried his hands on his pants, even though there was a towel right there. (I do that too; use my clothes as towels and tissues—always drove Fannie nuts back when she was well enough to care.) He didn’t say anything, but he took the plate and the dishrag from my hands, and set them down on the counter, and wrapped me in a hug.

It used to be that when he held me, my face would be buried in the folds of his shirt, and I would take in the scent of mechanical grease and human muskiness and really cheap old man body spray, and feel surrounded by him—like my dad could protect me from anything. Now I was twenty-five-and-a-half, and my chin fit over his shoulder, and he didn’t engulf me like he used to.

But it still meant the world to me, and I hugged him back, surprised by the gesture.

“Listen, kid, I’m proud of you,” he said softly, just next to my right ear. “It’s all gonna work out in the end.”

I really hoped it would.

I really hope it does.

Oh, hold on a second, I gotta go again—they just told me I could see her finally. I haven’t seen her since she, well…jumped out the window, so it’s kind of important.

Sorry. I haven’t gotten to that part yet, have I?

Well, I’ll get to it eventually. Be right back.

—

Okay, I’m back now. It took a little longer than expected, ‘cause after I visited Fan, the police station commed me right after. They had a lot of questions about the, uh…the lightsaber. I guess they don’t see a lot of ancient magic laser swords.

Fannie’s okay. The problem is she’s new to the involuntary hospitalization game, and doesn’t know you kinda need to lie a little sometimes in order to get released.

“I thought you were upset at me for not being honest,” she said, scratching anxiously at her wristband ID like an animal in captivity.

“Yeah—I want you to be honest with me,” I told her. “I don’t mind you making the truth a little more palatable to healthcare workers. They can’t release you till you answer all their questions the right way.”

“But I told them: even though I may wish I were dead, I’m not going to…”

“Fannie, all they hear is the ‘wish I were dead’ part. They are waiting for you to not say that. I get what you mean—better than anyone, believe me—but they can’t let you go till you stop saying that. It’s protocol.”

I didn’t tell her the part about how it costs money to be hospitalized. Or how it costs more the longer you stay. Or the part about how she’s not named on my health insurance since we’re not married, and also she’s not eligible for any government-assisted programs since she’s not a New Republic citizen. All of that is for me to deal with later. I’m trying not to think about it.

But—back to my story, with me and my dad in the kitchen.

“Listen, kid, I’m proud of you,” Dad said, holding me tight. “It’s all gonna work out in the end.”

“I hope so,” I whispered. “I really hope so.”

I got my flowers and my chocolates and my card from the Random Stuff Table, and headed upstairs to find Fannie. I figured she was probably in my room, which was where I could usually find her, and usually I’d find her in bed.

I did find her in my room. But she wasn’t in my bed. This was also not yet the point at which she had jumped out the window. She was backed up against the corner beneath my desk, hugging her knees to her chest, drawing in deep, gasping breaths and staring up at me in fear.

I had been panicking out of my mind going into this interaction. But when I saw her she looked so frightened, it scared my own fear right out of me.

“Fannie, what’s wrong?” I asked, dropping everything and getting down on the ground in front of her.

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face.

“Are you sick?” I asked.

She shook her head again and managed to breathe out a few rasping words. “Don’t leave me,” she said. “Don’t leave.”

It hit me like a sonic shock: the memory of Pennie tucked into the corner, just like Fannie was now—Pennie’s arms folded around her round belly and over her knees as I had entered the room.

Ben Solo…you came back for me…I feared you would not return…

“Don’t leave,” Fannie wept again, bringing me back to the present. “Don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t leave!”

“Hey…I’m not leaving,” I said softly, reaching out and rubbing her shoulders, but she recoiled from my touch as if it stung. “Who said I was leaving?”

“You did,” she sobbed. “You want to cancel the wedding. I know you do.”

Well, I wasn’t gonna concern myself with how she’d found that out. I’d been agonizing within an inch of my life over how I was ever gonna manage to start the conversation, and she’d just given me the perfect in.

“Oh, uh…y…well, yeah, actually, I’ve been thinking about it,” I said, sounding sort of relieved, because now it was finally all out in the open—although, looking back, I can see how my relief could have been misinterpreted. “I…I’ve kind of felt this week like we’ve been drifting apart.”

Fannie’s eyes filled with shock, as if I had charged her with a sordid crime rather than given her a gentle and honest appraisal of our relationship. Which for some reason struck me as the perfect moment to go, “Oh—I got these for you,” and drop the flowers and the chocolates and the card in her lap.

She stared down at them, then stared up at me.

“I—I—I’ll do better, Ben, I promise,” she said desperately. “I can do better, please—I can—I can try harder to be a better partner to you—I can—try to engage more with your friends and family—I can smile more—act happier—”

“Fannie, listen to me, that’s…that’s the problem,” I told her, grasping one of her hands as her other started going for the lid on the box of chocolates. “I feel like you’ve been hiding things from me. Is that true?”

Without taking her eyes off me, she took one of the bonbons and threw it back like a shot of whiskey. “I have been trying my best to keep everything peaceful between us,” she said through a mouthful of chocolate. “I can try harder—”

“Fannie, the wedding is six weeks away—”

“Yes, yes, we are so close, dear; if you would just hold on a little longer—”

“Fan, the wedding isn’t some sort of finish line. It’s the opposite,” I said. “Once we get married, we’ll be facing the rest of our lives together. Whatever issues we’ve got now are still gonna be there after the party. Do you really think getting married is gonna somehow make things magically different?”

“Of course being married will make things different.”

“Different how?”

“Well—we will share our bed, and we will shehhdhbfbbnn. Nfnd

Dbndmz

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,….,’mmm

zzz nnn..,,,.,,,,,……maclunkey

……..

…

…What the heck.

What the hell did I type.

Oh my gosh, I am SO sorry. I guess I straight-up fell asleep in the middle of writing. Saw the word “bed” on the screen and absolutely conked out. Yeah, sorry, I never actually went to bed—I’ve been at the medcenter all night, ever since they brought her here.

…Anyway.

“We will share our bed,” Fannie said, “and share a home, and we will belong to one another—

“Fan, we already share a home. Granted, we share it with my family—but even after we get married we won’t be able to afford living on our own. And we already belong to each other. That’s what your engagement ring means.”

“…But we don’t yet share our bed.”

She said it in earnest. She really did. I looked at her closely.

“Fannie,” I said quietly. “Do you really think having sex is going to fix us?”

She stared back at me, and I could tell the answer was maybe sort of yes.

The thing you have to understand about Fannie is that she believes so strongly in the immaterial. Nothing is ever just itself to her; everything has something under it and beneath it and through it. Everything holds meaning to her, and many things hold sort of a mystical power. It didn’t surprise me at all that she believed there was something supernatural about sex, some bonding of the souls beyond mere physical contact. She’s just like that, and even though I don’t always believe in everything she does, I can usually appreciate the poetry in them. But even if she was right, it wasn’t enough.

“…Do you really think getting married will fix us?” I asked again, more softly.

Fannie was quiet for a long time.

“…All I know, Ben, is I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter what,” she said.

“No matter if you even still like me or not?” I challenged.

I expected her to protest. I was shocked when she didn’t.

“Yes,” she said unflinchingly. “No matter if I even still like you or not.”

I blinked, stunned. I had not anticipated such brutal honesty from the woman who had just spent the entire last week (and who knows how long before that) hiding her feelings from me.

“Fan,” I whispered, hurt. “That’s…that’s not what I want.”

“Isn’t that what marriage is?” she asked, looking at me. “A commitment to one another, through good times and bad?”

“Well…yeah…but…I still want you to like me,” I told her, desperately searching her eyes for any sign of warmth. “In fact, I want you to like me way more than I want you to marry me.”

“But I do like you,” she insisted.

“Sure, but…be honest…are there times when you…hate me?”

Fannie didn’t speak. She only stared at me in silence.

Which…meant there was a “yes” in there somewhere she just wasn’t willing to say.

So she really did hate me. At least in some capacity. The nightmare was real. I couldn’t take it. I tore myself away from her and began to rise and immediately bumped my head on the underside of the table.

“Ow! Son of a—”

I stumbled to my feet and I tried to get my balance by grabbing the ledge of the open window, but accidentally stuck my hand out too far, and slipped a little before catching myself.

My bedroom window was missing a screen. That was because last October, when I was feeling reckless, I had removed it to climb onto the roof. The screen had fallen outward over the side of the house, and I had never put it back.

I think you can see where this is going.

Ugh, wait, now my mom is calling. Sorry…I really have to take this too. See…Fannie is kind of…sort of…guilty of assaulting a police officer.

…Yeah.

It was a police droid, mind you. But it’s still a planetary offense. It’s less of a crime than it is to assault an organic officer—though the droid’s rights groups are lobbying to change that—but it’s still…not…great. Anyway, Mom and I are scrambling right now because a) we’re trying to keep this from making headlines for the sake of our family’s privacy, and b) this could potentially impact Fannie’s ability to apply for New Republic citizenship or even cause her visa to be retracted, in which case they’d send her back to Ryloth only she doesn’t have anywhere to live on Ryloth because her father banished her from her home—anyway let me just call my mom and then I’ll be right back and oh by the way if I seem extremely casual about all this it’s because I’m dissociating harder than I have ever dissociated before and you know what maybe Amalia was right after all maybe I am super checked out. Oh, hey, they’re playing Max Rebo in the waiting area!

—

Okay, NOW I’m back.

So, to recap: I got up from under the desk and hit my head and caught myself on the window ledge (the window that was missing its screen, remember) and Fannie came crawling out from under the desk after me.

“No, no, Ben, I don’t hate you,” Fannie said, looking terrified. “Please, Ben, please—”

“Then why did you hesitate?” I demanded, rubbing my head, though my head wasn’t the thing that hurt most. “There is a part of you that hates me, isn’t there? You never really forgave me for what I did. You’re still mad at me, even though I gave you so many chances to talk about it and I asked you so many times if things were really okay. Yeah, what I did was bad, but at this point, things are kind of your fault. I gave you every opportunity to talk it out with me, I really did, but you just held it in and lied to my face and I know you’ve been talking about me behind my back to all my friends and now—what? You’re only marrying me so I can be, like, your sperm donor or whatever—”

“How dare you say that!” she cried. “I have never once brought it up again after I forgave you for it, so how can you possibly say I’m still holding it against you?!”

“Fannie, I don’t think you understand why I’m upset!” I snapped. “The fact that you never brought it up again is the problem!”

“Why would I bring it up again?! You’d only get upset if I did! Because I was supposed to have forgiven you, and believe me, I tried—it is not as if I lied to you on purpose and resolved to keep anger in my heart; it is simply that what you did was so dreadful it has tested the limits of my ability to forgive—but how could I ever tell you that it still wounds me over and over again when I was supposed to have forgiven you—you’d be angry, you’d be heartbroken—I truly did my best to keep peace between us—”

She had switched from denial to defense. So everything I had suspected of her was true. My stomach turned.

“Fannie,” I said, interrupting her as I looked her right in the eyes. “I really don’t think I feel good about marrying you anymore.”

Fannie fell silent. And then she went pale. I mean that all the blood drained out of her face, and she looked downright horrible. She looked like she was about to die.

Believe it or not, this was not the point at which she jumped out the window.

But it was the point at which she thrust out her hand and a shoebox came flying out from under my bed and her lightsaber hilt landed in her palm as she closed her fingers around it. (It’s also the point at which you say to me, “Wow, Ben, you really thought a shoebox under the bed was the best place to hide a lethal weapon?”)

“Ben,” she choked out, tears streaming down her face as her fist clenching the lightsaber shook, “please don’t say that. If we don’t get married, I…I don’t have anything else left. I have lost my family. I have lost the Force. I have lost myself. If I lose you too, I truly would be better off dead—I mean that; I really mean it.”

Believe it or not, this was not the point at which I called the police.

“Fannie, please, let’s…calm down,” I said, looking nervously at the placement of her thumb, which was about two millimeters away from the saber’s switch. “Don’t…do anything sudden, let’s just…”

I took a step forward, and she backed up against the corner between my desk and the wall, gripping her saber, and I had a distinct memory of this other time something similar had happened.

I’ve been having doubts about us, I had told Pennie, back in December. You can’t leave me, Pennie had whimpered, backing into the corner and desperately grabbing a bottle of liquor by the neck. She’d been nine months pregnant, and I’d thought she was about to drown her fully-gestated child in alcohol. Don’t do it, I’d begged, stepping slowly toward her. Pennie, please, don’t do it!

Aaand then Pennie had clocked me on the head and tied me to the bedpost. Charming woman, that one.

Of course, I didn’t think Fannie was about to do anything like that…but it wasn’t me I was afraid she was going to hurt.

“Fannie, please. I love you,” I told her urgently. “I promise I want to stick with you to the very end. That’s why I want you and me to be in a good place with each other, right? Isn’t that the most important thing?”

Fannie nestled herself further into the corner as much as she could, her eyes like a frightened animal’s.

“Please don’t cancel the wedding,” she whispered.

“You…you do realize it wouldn’t be forever, don’t you?” I said. “We could just…y’know…wait another couple years. We did rush into this. I’m willing to admit that now. We haven’t even ever been a couple for longer than six months. We could just wait a few years—”

“I can’t wait a few years, Ben; I can’t hang on that long; I wouldn’t make it,” she cried. “I can do better, I promise, please… I…I’ll get help. I’ll talk to someone like you wanted me to. I’ll tell you everything—I’ll do whatever you ask. Just…please don’t cancel the wedding!”

“Fannie, what’re you…you don’t get it,” I said, bewildered. “I’m not just trying to blackmail you into doing whatever I want. I’m telling you the marriage thing isn’t going to work if you still have things you’re holding against me. It…it honestly kind of sounds like you just want to be married more than you actually want me or us.”

And then it hit me.

Pennie had been the exact same way.

The entire time I had known Pennie, before we had lost contact with her, she had looked forward to her marriage to Ruut Pentarra as the thing that would solve everything for her. And it wasn’t as if marriage would have given her access to anything she didn’t already have. Unlike Fannie, Ruut never reserved anything for marriage (of which he had several concurrently), besides the title of “wife” as opposed to “mate.”

But Pennie had believed that becoming Ruut Pentarra’s wife would finally elevate her status above all of his other partners and playmates. She had believed that once she married him, all the jealousy and pain would go away.

And now, Fannie believed that marrying me would finally scrub the last of her sister from my lips and from my hands and from her mind. That once she married me, all the thoughts and memories that plagued her in secret, all the resentment and anger she had tried in vain to forget, would finally disappear.

Because on Ryloth, marriage was safety. Pennie had married for what she thought was safety—a secure and lasting position in her father’s favor; a way to make her father’s unnatural relationship with her somehow legitimate. Fannie had decried Pennie’s choice, seeing the marriage for the prison it was. It had killed Fan to watch her sister walk willingly into her cage. She had wanted something better for her sisters—for all of them—but especially for Pennie. Fannie had always spoken about how much she wanted to be different from her family; how much she wanted to marry for love, and not for any other reason. And Fannie held a deep and sacred honor for the concept of marriage in a way that the rest of her family did not: she believed in unswerving fidelity, and lifelong commitment, and shared respect and mutual sacrifice and putting one another first and enduring through difficulty and sharing in oneness and many, many admirable things—

…But, deep down, Fannie thought marriage would bring her safety, too.

In fact, it was her very last lifeline at the moment.

And in that, she was far more like Pennie than she realized.

They were sisters, after all. Sisters with the same father and the same mother and the same culture of origin and the same poisons in their blood. Fannie had learned a lot more than Pennie had, healed from a lot more, put far more effort into her growth…but no amount of Jedi training could completely remove what she and her sister had inherited together.

And I understood now.

I understood.

I slowly came forward, step by step, till I was close enough to carefully take Fannie’s non-saber-holding hand and bring it to my lips. A sob escaped her as I laid a kiss on her knuckles.

“Hey,” I said softly. “Listen to me, sweetheart. I’m not going to abandon you. I still love you. I still want to marry you.”

Fannie continued to weep, and I was able to get close enough to kiss her forehead.

“‘Cause as long as you’re still willing to have me,” I told her, “I am still willing to have you. No matter how much crap we go through. No matter how much we have to wade through together and work through. I will go through all of it with you, I promise, but we do need to go through it.”

Fannie trembled. Her arm holding the saber fell to her side.

“Because marriage alone isn’t gonna fix it, Pen,” I said. “We have to fix it. Together. And it’s not gonna be easy. It’s not gonna be pretty. But together, I know we can—”

“Wait,” Fannie whispered. “What did you just call me?”

I stared at her. “I…what?”

“What did you just call me, Ben?”

“Your…your name? What? What did I say?”

“You said Pennie,” Fannie uttered, but the way her voice sounded was honestly best described as a guttural gurgle. “You called me Pennie.”

Oh…crap.

Had I really?

You had got to be kidding me.

I replayed the tape in my head. I guessed I had. It hadn’t even registered—I must have still been thinking about how similar she was to her sister. That and it was all too easy to mix up her and her sisters’ names, even under normal circumstances—it certainly wasn’t the first time I had called Connie “Ginnie” or Pennie “Fannie” or Connie “Fannie” or Ginnie “Pennie.” (Fannie had even named her sister’s daughter “Bunnie”—that was the degree to which Fan was committed to this particular nicknaming convention.)

But this was the absolute worst possible time I could have called Fannie something other than her name, and Pennie’s name was the absolute worst possible name I could have possibly called her by. So of course I had. Because I can never do anything right.

Fannie’s eyes flooded with tears while the entire world, which had almost seemed like it would be okay for a moment, began to cave in under my feet.

And then Fannie said something awful.

“I’m going to kill myself,” she whispered. And yes, she said those exact words…right before she shoved me out of the way and—yes, you guessed it—threw herself out the open window.

“NONONONO FANNIE!” I screamed, rushing to the window as she disappeared over the edge.

Now, mind you—our house is only two stories high. It’s not a huge fall. You’d probably break both your legs if you fell from the second floor, but it wouldn’t kill you. However, because I was too busy freaking out over the very direct phrasing of “I’m going to kill myself” paired with the visual nightmare of watching my fiancée jump out a window, I temporarily forgot how tall our house was.

I leaned out the window in horror, fully expecting to see Fannie soup on the ground below…but she was not Fannie soup, and she hadn’t even broken both her legs, either. This was because, in my panic, I had also forgotten she was a Jedi. And for a Jedi, jumping out of a window is basically nothing at all. (In fact, anecdotal sources from the Clone Wars would suggest the Jedi back then were constantly jumping out of windows, for speeder chases and catching bad guys and stuff.)

But…maybe it would have been better if Fannie had broken both her legs.

Because then she wouldn’t have taken off running down the street.

Now…pause for a moment. What would you have done? Let’s say your fiancée has spent the last five months sinking deeper and deeper into a completely depersonalizing depression, then says “if I don’t have you I have nothing left,” then gets called your ex’s name by accident ‘cause you’re the stupidest idiot on the face of the planet…and then very audibly says “I’m going to kill myself,” jumps out a window, and starts running away as fast as she can with a lightsaber.

Well…I don’t know what you would have done. But I’ll tell you what I did.

I called the Republic City Security Forces on Fannie Pentarra.

And I kind of wish I hadn’t, because it created about fifteen other messes besides the one we already had, but…I really don’t know what else I could have done.

However…there is one bright side to all this. And I wouldn’t have been able to say this yesterday (remember, I wrote most of this story yesterday and had to finish it up today), but…I was finally able to take her home from the medcenter yesterday evening, and we had another long talk—one where no windows were jumped out of and no police were called and nobody threatened to kill themselves.

And the bright side of all this chaos is this: as much as it has probably scarred her for life (which I feel terrible about, and also very in debt about), I think winding up in the medcenter and having to stare at the ceiling for eighteen hours finally forced Fannie to really take an honest look at herself and face all the things she hadn’t wanted to face.

And, well…I don’t want to jinx it, but…

…I think the old Fannie might be coming back.

[askbensolo]

Glad youre gonna talk to fannie, always good to reach out

All Im gonna suggest is to maybe not worry about everyone hating you...because maybe they dont? You messed up, you acknowledge that, but spiraling and thinking that all you can do is make mistakes or be a bad person is going to hurt you. It wont give you room to grow, it sets a standard for yourself that ultimately isnt healthy even if it *feels* correct. People make mistakes, some people make a lot of mistakes, people arent infallible, ben. People can grow and communicate while also acknowledging their mistakes and working to correct them. As long as you work on yourself, you arent doomed to whatever cycle you may think youre doomed to.

Hope your talk with fannie goes well

Right yeah right thanks…thanks I mean it maybe you’re right, I mean, I guess I don’t completely suck, at least not all the time, maybe

Yeah. I really do appreciate it, all of it, really, sorry I can’t say more I’m just literally turning the corner on my street right now

[askbensolo]

Okay lookie here. So this is gonna sound a little rough, but what if you quit stressing about it and made the first move? What if you did something about the panic and gave Fannie a hand to hold? Just. Reach out. Remind her "I love you", remind her "this isn't going to work if our friendship ends". Ask her how you can love her better. Ask her how she needs to be loved right now. Show her that you can be trusted and that it's safe to be honest with you. Do. Something.

Yeah I’m gonna talk to her when I get home

[askbensolo]

Hey Ben here's a potential silver lining.

My brother's first fiancee broke off the engagement about 10 weeks before their wedding. My brother at the time did have to send out "lose the date" messages. However the silver lining part is that he did end up getting married two or so years later and they have two kids together, so it's a happy ending after all!

But I—

I mean that’s great but I—

Look sorry I really am genuinely so happy for your brother that’s super awesome and I hope he’s living his best life but I—

I just don’t think there’s another chance for me if this falls through I’m not like other people I don’t like other people I have never liked anyone else the way I like her ever in my life yes there was the thing with—the thing with—well I can’t even hold it in my brain or think of her name right now because that’s what ruined everything that’s the reason this whole nightmare started but even that was different ‘cause it was built on mutual desperation and how bad we both wanted to claw out of the emptiness but what I’ve got with Fannie came out of what I already had with her how we’d been good friends for years she was the first person I ever felt something like that for I didn’t know I could feel something like that for anyone and I don’t know if I can ever feel something like that for someone again and I know everyone says that I know everyone says it but I actually mean it I mean it in a different way I actually mean it I really really mean it

[askbensolo]

Ben, listen to me. You are having an anxiety spiral. I'm well acquainted with them. I try to think of the old children's song "Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, I guess I'll go eat worms" because eating worms is ridiculous, and so are the other two ideas. And then I call my psychiatrist.

As far as the wedding, I am going to tell you what my aunt-who-has-been-divorced-and-then-remarried told us niblings: If you have any doubt about the marriage -- not general nerves about a big event or a life change, but concerns about the person you are marrying -- or at any point feel like you're making a mistake, call it all off.

She said she remembers walking down the aisle and thinking "I think this is a mistake but everyone is here already and I can't let them down and everything is paid for and it's probably nothing." She says this was the biggest regret of her life, and if she had to do it over, she would've turned around and walked the other day, deposits and party be damned. The short-term financial loss and emotional upheaval would've been a million times better than her first marriage (which ended in more financial loss and emotional upheaval).

Furthermore, calling off a wedding does not necessarily mean the end of a relationship. It doesn't mean you don't love someone; in fact, it can be the most loving thing you can do. And it certainly doesn't mean you are unloved or incapable of having a romantic relationship in the future. My aunt and uncle found each other later in life, and they're the happiest they've ever been.

So funny story I have actually eaten worms before. I understand this is beside the point but just figured I’d make it known

You’re right I think I need to seriously suggest we call this off I mean it’s six weeks from now I kept thinking we had time I kept thinking we had time we’re running out of time

But I’m still waiting for her to want to talk to me like she obviously doesn’t want to talk to me if she’s been venting about me and purposely hiding it from me so how I can I talk to her when she doesn’t want to talk to me how can I even think about talking to her when she doesn’t want to talk to me she doesn’t want to talk to me she doesn’t want to talk to me she doesn’t

[askbensolo]

I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live like this. My anxiety has been blatantly unmanageable this week and I have been trying to just pull through and carry on with all the plans I had but I feel like I’m driving down a road at full speed toward a solid wall. And I don’t know who to turn to anymore because I’m so ashamed and humiliated and I bet everyone saw this coming but me. And everything that’s wrong is all my fault. I’m the one who messed up and I’m the one who asked her to marry me anyway and I’m the one who’s been sinking more and more time and effort and credits into this…this mistake and I just don’t see the light at the end of the tunnel anymore. Either we go through with the wedding and I spend the rest of my life with someone who hates me, or we get a divorce in two years and have to undo all the sloppy stitches holding us together one-by-one, or I get out of it now and have to take the financial loss and uninvite everyone from the wedding and explain to them what happened because of how stupid and horrible I am and spend the next five years picking up the pieces and trying not to go into debt or…or…I don’t know. I just don’t know. I spent the last five months really believing my life could get better and that I could turn things around and that I could start over with a clean slate and that there were beautiful, exciting new things in my future, but now I’m terrified, I’m terrified—maybe I was wrong to hope and maybe I’m doomed to be nothing but a screw-up after all and I don’t see how I can ever believe in anything better for me ever again—and I don’t know how I can ever trust anyone anymore when they say they forgive me because maybe they’re still angry at me underneath, which they’ve a right to be, and because I have hurt every single person in my life at one time or another in all these horrible, horrible ways it’s entirely possible that everyone hates me beneath their “I love you”s and their smiles, and everyone I’ll ever meet will hate me even if I haven’t screwed up yet, because I always do in the end—I always screw up, I always screw up, I always screw up, I always screw up, always hurt people always do stupid stuff always make a mess always ruin good things always make the wrong choices I don’t deserve to be loved anymore I’ve lost the right to be loved I’ve lost the privilege of being loved everyone’s only pretending to love me everyone’s only pretending to like me everyone’s only pretending it’s all pretend it’s all pretend they all hate me everyone hates me she hates me she hates me she hates me and she won’t tell me but she hates me and nobody will tell me but they hate me everyone hates me and no one will tell me it’s all pretend everything I thought was real is pretend and I don’t know what’s real anymore and I’m so scared I’m so scared I’m so scared I’m so scared I’m so scared I’m so scared I’m so scared I’m so scared I’m so scared I’m so

[askbensolo]

Boy howdy Ben, this era will make a fun story to tell the grandkids one day

Oh yeah, super fun, I’m having a great time—wait, grandkids?! How can you be so sure about grandkids I don’t even know if there’ll be regular kids I don’t even know if there’ll be a mother to these hypothetical children I don’t even know—

[askbensolo]

i feel like throwing up all the time imagining daggers behind your eyes i need to know the ugly truth so please don’t feed me pretty lies

i can’t stop my hands from shaking as you describe your pretty dress i can’t stop my knees from quaking i think dying would hurt less

love is a choice, you told me a conscious act of will but even if you love me do you even like me still

i never wanted a wife, remember what i wanted was a friend your ring won’t mean a single thing if you let the friendship end

[askbensolo]

[askbensolo]

i didn’t think this was ‘cause of me. when you stopped smiling i thought it was ‘cause of everything else i thought it was ‘cause of her but i guess it couldn’t have been about her without it also being about me, and everything is my fault in the end i am building our future or trying to desperately like high-tiered cakes on tilting stilts and there we stand at the top, pretty enough to eat but bitter enough to choke on baby, i’m scared i’m scared of you i’m scared of your silence and how you’re always so polite because when she was mad, i knew and then i could do what i do best— get on my knees and beg for mercy let me get on my knees for you not just one knee but on both let me cry until i dry out and die so you know how hard i’m trying because i’m trying, baby, i’m trying but i’m not good enough i’m not good enough i’m not good i’m no good i never was and i never will be

[askbensolo]

We went cake sampling today but every single flavor was like sawdust in my mouth

[askbensolo]

i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry

[askbensolo]

Well... um...

I don't think it's my place to take screenshots of her posts or anything. That's for you and she to talk about and work through, and not for an outsider to meddle in. Hopefully, she'll let you read them when she's ready.

But she's been... how do I say this.

I think she isn't over all of her resentment about what happened with Pennie. I think you really, really broke her heart. And I don't say this to rub salt in the wound. I know how awful you feel about it, I've seen you become so, so much better (and I am beyond proud of you for that), and I know that you love her. But I'm also not the one who got hurt.

And I think you're going to have to let her confront you about it, openly, honestly, with all the pain and anger and vitriol that it's going to come with, because... well, to put it one way: I don't think the marriage is going to last long, if you don't get this out of the way before your wedding day.

[askbensolo]

Hey, Ben. Um.... I must be honest, I kind of put off sending this ask, but I think it's finally gotten to a point where I can't just sit back and not say anything anymore.

Are you absolutely sure that Fannie deleted her blog?

…Yeah?

I mean, when I try to open it, it says the whole “this blog doesn’t exist” thing. And I am very familiar with that error message, because every time I say something mean to someone online, they delete their blog. (Which always seemed kind of extreme. Like, I’m kind of a jerk sometimes and I admit that, but you could just block me or something instead of deactivating entirely.)

Anyway, I felt bad that people kept being so utterly intimidated by my superior debating skills and devastatingly witty barbs that they were always deleting their blogs, so that’s why I’m trying to be nicer and not send any more death threa—

…wait.

…

…Hm. Okay. So maybe I am just hated, and not reverently feared like I thought. Well, that rocks my world—

WAIT

…Oh no.

Oh no, oh no, oh no—

What’s she saying. What’s she saying?! Why would she have things she’s willing to say publicly but not want me to know?! You sound like it’s something bad. Is it something bad? It’s something bad. What’s she saying please we’re about to get on a two-hour flight together I will be trapped sitting next to her for two whole hours quick please I need to know