I study his face briefly, marveling in how strong his features are. I know that he's not Noah's identical twin but there's no mistaking they're brothers. I wonder what it would be like seeing them standing side-by-side. "I'm not that hungry."
"We can split a sandwich." He motions towards a waitress standing near the cash register.
I sit in silence while he orders our lunch. My hands are sweating. Even though Alexa still knows nothing about Ben, I can't help but feel 'm betraying her. I spoke to her briefly on the phone this morning about having dinner together tonight. I'd balked at making firm plans because I wanted to see how my lunch with Ben would go.
"Tell me about Noah." He leans back in the wooden chair. "It starts with him telling you to avoid me at all costs, right?"
The sarcasm dripping from each of the words is measurable. I can see the disdain in his expression. He disapproves of Noah too, but it's not the same. Ben's never warned me away from his brother. "He did say that, yes."
"Did he say why?" He picks up a small glass of room temperature water that the waitress dropped off when she took his order.
I sigh deeply. "No, Ben. He wouldn't say why."
"You want to know why?" He sips a mouthful before resting the glass back down.
I do, don't I? That's why I'm here. I stare at him while I contemplate the gravity of the question. I don't really need to do this. I can get up, walk out and never look back. Ben Foster can become a distant memory and the secret of his silent feud with Noah can rest in peace. That would be the right thing to do. That would be the way to honor my friendship with Alexa and the man she loves.
"It started when our mother died."
The words are almost emotionless. His expression doesn't add anything to it either. They're just words that he's pushed out at me and now, I have to absorb them. Is that because he's a doctor and death is a natural part of his everyday life now?
"When did she die?"
"It's feels like a lifetime ago now." His long fingers tap a beat against the table. "It feels like yesterday."
"You were close." I know the assumption is based on the fact that he told me that Noah and his father shared a special bond. Maybe Ben loved his mother the same way. Maybe he was the shining light in her eyes.
"I took care of my mother." His eyes are empty. "I wanted to be a doctor because of her."
I smile at the knowledge. "She must have been lovely."
"She was beautiful and kind." His hand jumps to his chest. "She was sweet. She loved me very much."
"What happened to her?"
"She was ill for weeks before her death." His eyes dart up but move past me quickly, centering on a spot in the diner behind me. "The doctors said it was a virus. They sent her home."
"It wasn't a virus?" I don’t know what else to ask. I have no inkling of what it means or how it impacted her health. I have no baseline to judge by.
His eyes travel the path of the waitress as she drop off our lunch. I watch in silence as he takes a healthy bite of the sandwich. He motions for me to dig in, but I can't eat. I'm slightly miffed that he can considering the fact that we are embroiled in a serious discussion about someone he loved.
He watches me intently as he chews. No words are spoken between us. The conversation ended in the exact place I need and want it to continue so I wait patiently until he clears the entire plate.
"Kayla." He finally speaks. "This is very hard to talk about."
I nod. I know that it is. I want to hear it though. I need to understand the nucleus of his pain. "I know," I say quietly. "I care about you, Ben."
A trace of a smile forms on his lips. "I care about you too."
"What happened when she died?" I ask out of sheer need. I'm nauseous from the anxiety that is racing through me.
His eyes dart down to his lap. "She needed care around the clock. My father, Noah and I all took turns with her."
I can't imagine the pain that seeps into those who have to watch someone they love wither away like that. "That must have been very hard."
"The alternative was the hospital. She didn't want that."
"I understand." I'm trying to understand. I still don't have a clear idea of when any of this happened. The emotional strength of a fifteen-year-old boy is obviously much different than a twenty-five-year old. Judging by the depth of the fracture in Ben's family, I'm guessing she d