“We’re short-staffed, honey.”
“Ben?”
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.
