I'm halfway through watering my fledgling hops when I hear shoes scuffing up the steps to my porch. I grin, knowing Ben has arrived with the lead testing kits. I know he hates that I’m already growing my hops without permission, but I can’t just sit home all day watering my shower plants. Like I told Eden, the bines deter mites from her beehives. It’s really a service that I’m doing this.
I set down my watering can just as a loud crash followed by shattering glass echoes from my front stoop. I whip around to find Ben sprawled awkwardly across the uneven porch steps, various boxes and papers scattered around him.
"Oh my god, are you okay?" I rush over, unable to contain my amusement at his flustered expression.
"Yeah, sorry, I just...there's no handrail and I didn't realize..." Ben scrambles to collect the equipment, cheeks flaming.
A few empty pots shattered with his fall, and I gently extract a shard of ceramic from his palm. "Here, let me help."
He sucks in a breath when I touch him, and I apologize. “Sorry. I have this thing where I laugh when people fall down. I can’t help it.”
Ben shakes his head. “No, it’s not that.”
He stares as I rub the palm of his hand, looking for any additional shards. “Did I hurt you?”
“Not that either.” My cheeks heat as I remember that Ben declared an intent to “woo” me, and now I’m squatting here on my porch with his hand pressed to my bare thigh.
I stand up and reach for the porch broom. He gathers the testing kits and I sweep up the debris. As I dump it into the trash bin off the side of the porch, an indignant squeak sounds from the porch rafters. Before I can react, the bat nesting under the eaves takes flight directly into Ben's startled face.
He cries out, swatting at the agitated creature. I shoo the bat away as Ben inspects his scalp.
"Um, I think you're bleeding a little there," I say, peering at the red scratch.
Ben pales. "Do you think it broke skin?" His voice pitches high with anxiety. "There's a not insignificant chance that bat had rabies."
I wince. “Oh, buddy. I definitely know you’re supposed to call the CDC if a bat touches you. There was a whole thing last year with my sister Eliza and her goat barn.”
Ben starts breathing rapidly. “How quickly do symptoms set in? Shit. Rabies is 100% fatal, Eila.” He bends over, clutching his thighs, huffing and puffing.
I grab his uninjured hand, tugging him toward his car. "Let's not panic yet. You’ve got health insurance, right?”
Ben looks up, brow furrowed. “Of course I have health insurance.”
I smirk at him. “Don’t say it like everyone does. I don’t. Anyway, Mr. Benefits, since you have the good coverage we can probably get you the shots pretty easily.”
“Shots?” He pales and ducks his head back between his knees. “Ooooooh, god, no I hate shots.”
I glance up at the eaves, where there is no further noise and no sign of the bat. “Well, we’re not going to be able to catch the bat to test it for rabies, so I think you’re going to have to suck it up, Ben. Come on, we'll go get you checked out."
We both decide it’s better if I drive his car and Ben sits in the passenger seat with his forehead against the window as I blast the AC and distract him by listing all the amazing benefits of hops plants. “There’s such a narrow harvest window, but the aroma when the flowers are ripe … let me tell you, it’s heavenly. Even if you don’t drink beer.”
He keeps his eyes closed and says, “You know I do enjoy beer.”
“Well, then you’re going to love how my yard smells in a few weeks.”
“I will not be trespassing to sniff your illegal plants.”
I snort out a laugh and merge onto Boulevard of the Allies toward Mercy Hospital.
At the emergency department, we check in and a bubbly blonde nurse named Stacia ushers Ben away toward the triage cubicle after a few flirtatious winks in his direction. He shoots me a helpless look over his shoulder that morphs into a frightened yelp when Stacia holds up a thermometer. He seems really overwhelmed by the emergency department. Or the threat of potential rabies. Or all of it. Wanting to comfort him, I walk toward him and hesitate, not sure if I’m allowed. “Can my friend come in here with me please?” Ben’s words come out in a rush and the nurse nods. I hurry into the cubicle, squatting on the floor beside him.
“She’s just checking your vitals, Ben.” I try to communicate to Stacia with my eyes that Ben is pretty anxious about this entire situation. The man is high strung on a good day and now he’s convinced he’s going to die of rabies.
The trauma nurses here are used to gunshot victims and stab wounds, so Ben’s run-in with the bat either doesn’t ignite their sympathy or else they’re super ready for a shift change. Stacia’s eyes linger on Ben’s forearms as he clutches the edge of his chair and I note that the man has some pretty nice veins and musculature happening there. But now isn’t the time to be staring at them. Instead, I stroke his hand with my fingers, like I’m petting a feral cat.
“He’s going to need the rabies vaccine series,” I snap at the nurse. “And he wants to do the follow up shots at urgent care rather than keep coming back to the ED.”
Ben turns to me. “Follow up shots?”
I pat his hand. “It’s a whole thing, Ben. But you can do it. I know it.”
By the time Stacia leaves to deal with vaccine paperwork, Ben is sweating. He’s got the hospital gown folded on his lap and seems to be resisting putting it on as if that will prevent him from having to get shots up and down each thigh.
“You gonna put that on? Want me to step out?”
Ben flashes me a look of such anguish that I’m worried he has a physical injury he’s not telling me about. “What’s up, Ben? I promise I’ll hold your hand during the shot. I don’t need to look while you change…”
He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “It’s not that. I mean, it is that. But…I really need to check on Maurice.”
“Maurice?”
He swallows. “My dog? He's home alone, he could be out of water or needing to go out..." He rambles anxiously about his dog until I grasp his trembling hands.
"Hey, do you want me to go check on him?”
“Would you?” Ben’s eyes water, like checking on a dog is some sort of heroic act.
“Sure. Give me back your keys and tell me what to do.”
He hands me a tidy keyring and sinks back into the chair, visibly more relaxed.
“You sure you don’t want me to stay while you get the shots?”
Ben presses his lips together and swallows. “I’d much rather you check on the dog and leave me to my suffering in private.”
“Private? You mean with Nurse Stacia?”
Ben’s jaw drops. “Are you implying that the staff will be inappropriate?”
I grin at him. “They better not be. Okay, I’m gonna go feed the dog and I’ll swing right back for you, okay?”
Ben's shoulders slump in relief. "Thank you, Eila." He squeezes my fingers before pulling his polo shirt over his head. The last thing I see is his hairy, taut stomach, which is the moment I realize that I desperately want to run my fingers through that dark mess of fur.
I dart through the halls of the hospital with that image in my mind, cheeks flushed. Since when am I that attracted to Ben? I remind myself that we’re friends now and I have to find his place and feed his dog.
I plug Ben’s address into the maps app on my phone and enjoy the view as I make my way up the hill to his Greenfield townhouse. Of course, his grass is neatly trimmed but his yard is barren of all interesting plants. All that’s on his front porch is a shoe brush, which I go ahead and use before I unlock his door.
I’m greeted by a mangy, weird-looking dog who does indeed have three legs. “Hey, you must be Maurice.” I sink to my knees and offer my hand for him. “Obviously I’m not your dad. But he sent me.”
The dog sniffs me and looks at me curiously. He’s so old, I wonder if he can actually see my face. “So, I’m going to check on your water bowl and take you outside for a poo.”
I walk through the living room, unsurprised by the lack of furniture but blown away by the presence of a piano along the far wall. I would never have expected Ben to be a musician, but I’m not sure why. Maybe because all the musicians I’ve dated have been pot-heads, and Ben is the furthest thing from that.
I spy Maurice’s bowls in the kitchen and dump out the water in his dish, filling it from the filtered water in the fridge door. “This is high class, Maurice. Fridge water.” When Esther installed a fridge with built-in water and ice, we all agreed that we had truly made it.
Maurice laps at the water and I look out Ben’s windows. This neighborhood is peaceful during the day, the only sounds coming from a few far-off kids shrieking outside. It suits Ben, the stark contents of his home purely functional and clearly meant for just one person.
I dig the dog’s leash and harness from the table inside the front door as instructed and turn to the dog, who must have heard the telltale sounds and tottered over to me. “You ready to go out?”
He yips. I grin and slip the contraption onto him, gingerly. “I think Ben is wrong,” I tell him. “You’d look adorable in sporting wear.” If I weren’t unemployed, I might even go buy him a sweater set from Heather’s shop. I'm certain he’d look dapper in it.
I open the front door and worry that Maurice won’t be able to hop down the steps, but that concern is quickly suppressed as he tugs me forward, ready to charge along what is clearly a well-known route. We head for the alley behind Ben’s house, Maurice stopping to pee on a lot of different bushes and utility poles along the way.
He stops to do his business in the grass at the corner, and I bag it all up and urge him toward home. “I’m sure you usually do more stuff, but I have to go back and get your old man.” Maurice yips, looking frustrated. I wish I could bring him with me to go back and fetch Ben, but I can’t take him into the hospital and it’s much too hot to leave him in the car while I wait for Ben to be discharged. “Sorry, dude. I’ll have him back to you really soon, okay?”
I snap a picture of Maurice wagging his tail and send it to Ben, locking up the house and heading back toward Mercy hospital.