He wiped his face before turning around.
“Rough night, Chels. Go back to sleep.”
***
So that Tuesday, after watching him leave with his hospital badge clipped to his pocket, I decided to surprise him.
I packed his favorite lunch, added the apple pie, and tucked in the note.
“Go back to sleep.”
Then I drove to the hospital, imagining how happy he’d be to see me.
Instead, I found Arnold nearly crying.
“Where’s Ben?” I asked.
Arnold hesitated.
“Chelsea, you should talk to him.”
“I plan on doing that. Where is he? Not in surgery?”
“Chelsea, you should talk to him.”
He pointed down the hall.
I walked away before he could say anything else.
***
Ben’s office door was partly open.
I pushed it wider.
A folder lay open on his desk.
One page showed an Oregon address. Another showed a start date six weeks away.
He pointed down the hall.
Ben’s office looked half-erased.
Two shelves were bare. His books sat in boxes by the wall. The framed photo of Olive and me was wrapped in newspaper, and the mug she’d painted for him was already packed.
“Chelsea?”
I turned.
Ben stood in the doorway holding a coffee.
“Chelsea?”
I looked from him to the boxes.
“You accepted a job in Oregon?”
His face changed.
“I was going to tell you everything!”
“Chelsea, let me explain.”
I held up the lunch bag.
“You accepted a job in Oregon?”
“I brought you your favorite sandwich and apple pie because I thought you were exhausted. Meanwhile, you’ve been packing up your office.”
