Neutral territory should actually be neutral.
Ben is already sitting in a booth near the back when I arrive.
He stands halfway when he sees me, seems to reconsider whether we're people who shake hands now, then sits back down.
Good decision.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
I take the seat across from him.
He looks tired.
Not dramatically transformed. No symbolic beard growth or visible evidence of profound self-reflection. He looks like Ben after a long week—creased shirt sleeves, hair slightly too long around his ears, coffee already going cold in front of him.
For some reason, that makes this easier.
I don't want a new person sitting across from me.
I want to know whether the person who actually hurt Cami has learned anything.
A waitress stops by. I order tea.
Ben waits until she leaves. “Thanks for coming.”
“You asked.”
“Yeah.”
He rubs both palms over his jeans.
Then stops, apparently realizing he is doing it.
“Tori and I are in counseling.”
I nod.
“She almost left.”
There is no appropriate response to that which would not either comfort him or sound pleased.
I don’t want to give him either, so I say nothing.
Ben looks down at his coffee. “She still might.”
“That is between you and Tori.”
“I know.” His jaw tightens. “She told me I needed to stop acting like what happened with Cami was one bad joke that got taken wrong.”
My attention sharpens. “Shocking.”
He exhales. “I know that's how I acted afterward. Like everybody else was being dramatic and you were trying to make me the bad guy.”
“You were the bad guy.”
His mouth twists.