something very important, but I’ll call you later.” She paused, then added, “And please stop protecting this guy. Believe me, he’s not worth it. He’s only out for himself.”
“How do you know that? Do you know him?” Sara asked a third time.
Rachel thought a moment before she answered. “No. I don’t. I don’t know him at all.”
Ben
“Drink today, and drown all sorrow,
You shall perhaps not do it tomorrow;
Best, while you have it, use your breath;
There is no drinking after death.”
– Ben Jonson
ONE
IT WAS JUST PAST TEN in the morning when Ben emerged from his cabin, parched and hung over. He was on a Caribbean cruise ship docked off the shore of Aruba, still in the same coral colored t-shirt and khaki Bermuda shorts from the night before. His bloodshot eyes hid behind dark ray ban aviators, his hair a disheveled mess. He had a horrible headache. Each step he took reverberated in his ears.
Walking through the ship, he noticed a woman in lime green and white sundress and wide-brim straw hat attempting to get a signal on her cell phone by holding it above her head. His cell had died two days earlier. In his rush to get to the airport, he had forgotten to pack the charger. He had planned on buying a new one while on vacation, but the disconnection was a foreign peace just as enchanting as the Aruba shoreline. There was no need for the constant buzz in his pocket to disturb him with reminders of home.
He had spent the previous day snorkeling, sightseeing and shopping for Dutch-made porcelain and imported chocolates, followed by drinking and dancing in downtown Oranjestad. He and two of his friends staggered back to the ship sometime after two in the morning, tired, sun burnt and drunk. He was now making his way to one of the ship’s many gift shops to buy some aspirin and a large cup of coffee.
When he returned to his room twenty minutes later, he noticed the blinking red light on the cabin phone by his bed.
Homer . He immediately panicked. Homer was back in Maine, with his assistant, Janelle. Did something happen? He picked up the phone to listen.
It was Edward.
Ben, it’s Ed. Please call me as soon as you can. It’s important. His voice was low and serious, urgent.
This can’t be good , Ben thought. He sat down on the bed, took a deep breath and dialed Edward’s phone number. Waiting for the line to connect, he glanced at the daily newsletter on his nightstand. He was supposed to meet one of his friends for a morning spin class. He scoffed at the thought, knowing his day would be better spent by the pool, nursing his hangover until he could stomach, yet again, another dose of the island’s famous rum punch.
“Hey, brother, what’s going on?” Ben asked as soon as Edward answered the line.
“Hey.” Edward sounded somber. “I’m sorry, man,” he continued, stopping for a moment to clear his throat. “I don’t know how else to say this. Rachel’s….” He hesitated. There was a long, pregnant pause. “Rachel’s gone, Ben. She took her life yesterday.”
Ben narrowed his eyes and gripped the receiver, trying to piece together Edward’s words echoing in his head. “That’s not funny,” Ben replied flatly.
“I don’t know what happened. Everything seemed…. fine. She was distant these past few months, but I didn’t realize she was in trouble.” Edward’s voice cracked. “She didn’t let on.”
Ben fell silent as the reality of what Edward was saying began to sink in. His stomach dropped. No, he thought. He tried to recall the last time he had spoken with Rachel. It was just a few weeks ago, wasn’t it? When Rachel wanted to confess. Had she been depressed then?
“She—” Edward sniffled. “She jumped off Elena’s balcony.”
Ben was stunned. The room lost color. The air in the cabin turned stale; he thought he might vomit. Edward was crying softly over the phone. “You okay?” Ben finally asked.
“Ah, fuck.” Edward exhaled loudly. “I just need to
“How do you know that? Do you know him?” Sara asked a third time.
Rachel thought a moment before she answered. “No. I don’t. I don’t know him at all.”
Ben
“Drink today, and drown all sorrow,
You shall perhaps not do it tomorrow;
Best, while you have it, use your breath;
There is no drinking after death.”
– Ben Jonson
ONE
IT WAS JUST PAST TEN in the morning when Ben emerged from his cabin, parched and hung over. He was on a Caribbean cruise ship docked off the shore of Aruba, still in the same coral colored t-shirt and khaki Bermuda shorts from the night before. His bloodshot eyes hid behind dark ray ban aviators, his hair a disheveled mess. He had a horrible headache. Each step he took reverberated in his ears.
Walking through the ship, he noticed a woman in lime green and white sundress and wide-brim straw hat attempting to get a signal on her cell phone by holding it above her head. His cell had died two days earlier. In his rush to get to the airport, he had forgotten to pack the charger. He had planned on buying a new one while on vacation, but the disconnection was a foreign peace just as enchanting as the Aruba shoreline. There was no need for the constant buzz in his pocket to disturb him with reminders of home.
He had spent the previous day snorkeling, sightseeing and shopping for Dutch-made porcelain and imported chocolates, followed by drinking and dancing in downtown Oranjestad. He and two of his friends staggered back to the ship sometime after two in the morning, tired, sun burnt and drunk. He was now making his way to one of the ship’s many gift shops to buy some aspirin and a large cup of coffee.
When he returned to his room twenty minutes later, he noticed the blinking red light on the cabin phone by his bed.
Homer . He immediately panicked. Homer was back in Maine, with his assistant, Janelle. Did something happen? He picked up the phone to listen.
It was Edward.
Ben, it’s Ed. Please call me as soon as you can. It’s important. His voice was low and serious, urgent.
This can’t be good , Ben thought. He sat down on the bed, took a deep breath and dialed Edward’s phone number. Waiting for the line to connect, he glanced at the daily newsletter on his nightstand. He was supposed to meet one of his friends for a morning spin class. He scoffed at the thought, knowing his day would be better spent by the pool, nursing his hangover until he could stomach, yet again, another dose of the island’s famous rum punch.
“Hey, brother, what’s going on?” Ben asked as soon as Edward answered the line.
“Hey.” Edward sounded somber. “I’m sorry, man,” he continued, stopping for a moment to clear his throat. “I don’t know how else to say this. Rachel’s….” He hesitated. There was a long, pregnant pause. “Rachel’s gone, Ben. She took her life yesterday.”
Ben narrowed his eyes and gripped the receiver, trying to piece together Edward’s words echoing in his head. “That’s not funny,” Ben replied flatly.
“I don’t know what happened. Everything seemed…. fine. She was distant these past few months, but I didn’t realize she was in trouble.” Edward’s voice cracked. “She didn’t let on.”
Ben fell silent as the reality of what Edward was saying began to sink in. His stomach dropped. No, he thought. He tried to recall the last time he had spoken with Rachel. It was just a few weeks ago, wasn’t it? When Rachel wanted to confess. Had she been depressed then?
“She—” Edward sniffled. “She jumped off Elena’s balcony.”
Ben was stunned. The room lost color. The air in the cabin turned stale; he thought he might vomit. Edward was crying softly over the phone. “You okay?” Ben finally asked.
“Ah, fuck.” Edward exhaled loudly. “I just need to
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