home, or is it?; ben⇝joey.
Ben feels nervous as he walks up the steps of the brownstone beside Joey. He keeps a safe distance from her, close enough in case she loses her balance, but with enough space that he isn’t overwhelming her.
She’d been discharged from the hospital that day, and he’d offered to bring her here to get clothes if she wanted to go to Avery’s where she’d at least have a familiar face as opposed to a home she didn’t even recognize.
He’d tidied up the place the other day that he was here, after sleeping a near sixteen hours straight. It had been his way of killing time before going back to the hospital, and ended up over cleaning the place, but he’s nervous because it’s her first time back.
He isn’t exactly sure where they stand. Or well, he supposes the distance sort of answers that question.
“Here we are,” he says softly, pulling out his keys to unlock and open the door.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. In the time she had spent at the hospital, not one luck of memories about Ben had returned to Joey’s mind. She’s learned a lot about him in the time being, like how kind he is and how he owns a flower shop and how Avery seems to be close to him.
Still, none of that triggers any kind of flash or spark or anything that would make this man stand out in her mind. It’s like he took it all with him and, as pity, left her behind with only the memory of her brother and things revolving him for solace.
It was jarring to find out her age, what she had accomplished, that she had been married (especially after knowing this wasn’t going to be in the cards for her)—and yet nothing brought him back. She wished, terribly so, that something would, if only to thank him for the kindness he’s shown her and apologize for the evident hurt she’s caused him.
She finds herself in awe of the brownstone they pull up to, the rickety old bug looking out of place against the row of cars on the streets. She had apologized to him, profusely, for having wrecked his truck in the process of whatever brought them to this place.
“This is your home?” she asks softly, clutching the plastic bag from the hospital filled with her belongings as she follows him inside. “It’s…beautiful.”
“Ours,” he clarifies, almost instantly wishing he hadn’t. He’s still figuring out the line between being helpful, and coming off like he’s attacking her for something that is absolutely not her fault.
He can’t imagine how hard this must be for her if he feels like pieces of his heart are shattering every day. Especially when she starts to apologize for things like his truck, and how another apology for not remembering lives on the tip of her tongue. He knows her almost all too well.
“We sort of picked it out together,” he continues carefully. He figures she should at least know the truth, even if it won’t help her remember just yet… or at all.
He slowly eases around her to shut the door, setting his keys into the bowl and going to toe off his shoes at the rack near the door before deciding against it. “Everything in here, really.”
“Everything?” she says in surprise, looking around the place. Her eyes catch some of the pieces here and there, accents and throws and colors of the wall she can feel herself trying to poke out of at times. Even then, nothing seems to click back into place. Not a single memory, speck, anything that would help her not hurt him anymore.
She hugs the bag a bit tighter against her, a small barrier and tether to what little she remembers, and take a further step into the apartment. She walks over to one of the tables, clearly devoid of things that once rested there. Except for a small trinket she doesn’t remember seeing since she was a kid.
Joey turns back to face him then, watching as he seems out of place in his own home. It’s her, she realizes. Her presence is making him unlike himself, that much she can tell. Yet she can’t forget about the small figure on the table. “Where did you get this?” she asks, turning back to grab it. “I had one like this when I was younger. Except my dad accidentally packed it with his things when he left us.”
His eyes dart to the figure in her hands, a housewarming gift from her father after they moved everything in, and his heart sinks when he realizes what an oversight it had been to not update her on that particular detail because. Joe and Catherine had come by to visit while she was out all those days, and hadn’t been back to visit just yet.
His ears feel like they’re ringing and for a second he feels like screaming. He’s realizing just how much unraveling their is to this whole thing.
“Um…” Ben starts, pausing as he tries to find the right words. “We should… sit down,” he offers, motioning to the couch beside the end table, the one they’d chosen together both on how unlike their old one it was (his choosing), and how cozy it was for naps (“More often than not you fall asleep here, and while I’m worried it’s some narcolepsy thing, you should at least be cozy”; her suggestion).
The memories sting more than he’s been prepared for, but he tries to push all of that down, instead focusing on her as he goes to sit beside her on the couch, leaving some space between them.
With a few deep breaths, he begins. “This,” he motions to the figurine in her hands, small and delicate. “This was a housewarming gift from your father,” he says carefully, hopefully allowing her to catch on without freaking her out.
That word throws her for a loop. Her father? She shakes her head, looking down at the figurine in her hands. “It’s not from him,” she says adamantly. “He...” Pausing, she takes a shaky breath. “He left us when I was little. I haven’t seen him since. He couldn’t have given this to me.”
Joey blinks back tears as a headache starts to form, the pounding in her head growing as she stares down. Why can’t she remember anything about this but the pain it’s caused her? Why can’t she remember anything else at all?
“I’m sorry,” she says quickly, handing it back to him. “I don’t...I can’t remember anything about this besides when he left. He couldn’t have given this to me.” She sniffles, pushing it into his hands. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should call Avery. I’m causing you more trouble here than I’m worth.”