She didn't laugh.
Instead, she glanced at the nurse standing beside her.
My smile faded.
"Did something happen to him?"
Neither woman answered.
My stomach tightened.
"Where's Ben?"
Still nothing.
I could feel myself getting angry.
Not because I thought they had done something wrong.
Because everyone was suddenly acting like I had walked into the middle of a conversation I was the only person not allowed to hear.
Then I saw Ben's colleague Arnold walking toward me.
I had met Arnold dozens of times.
He was normally calm.
Professional.
The kind of person who never seemed rattled by anything.
But that afternoon, his face was as white as a sheet.
I lifted the lunch bag.
"I'm so glad you're here," I said brightly. "Can you tell me where Ben is?"
Arnold stopped directly in front of me.
He looked at my face for several seconds.
Like he was trying to decide what to say.
Then something happened I had never seen before.
His eyes filled with tears.
"He hasn't told you anything, has he?"
My grip tightened around the lunch bag.
The apple pie shifted inside the container.
And suddenly, every missed dinner, every overnight shift, every tired excuse, and every moment Ben had looked away from me felt completely different.
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