I needed my Grams.

            There was just too much happening in my life, and I needed the one person who would understand, the one person who could walk me through it the way I so desperately required.  Of course, it would seem selfish of me to not consider the fact that Grams might have had a rougher deal than I at that moment, what with being deceased and all, but nevertheless, I was left wanting.

            There were many things I missed about her.  The way she could make a joke during a very serious situation, and it never came across as depreciating said seriousness.  How watching her in action, always so clear headed and resolute, never questioning her decisions, but always making the right one, made you want to do whatever it took to one day be just like her.  Her enthusiasm about everything, from minor accomplishments made by loved ones, to her love of birds down to the tiniest detail, and even things others would find dull and inconsequential such as a really good coupon for something she would regularly buy.

            This day however, I missed her way with words.  Her ever available shoulder to cry on.  The granny ninja tactics she used while talking with her that allowed me to come to my own conclusions without any vocalized advice or opinions from her.  I needed that, and for it not to be there in such a demanding time was an all too powerful reminder that it wouldn't ever be there again.

            They say, whomever they actually are, that you never know what you had until it is gone.  This was not true with my Grams.  I knew how valuable she was, and while I knew that one day she would be gone, deep inside, I never could bring myself to believe it.  The idea of a world without her seemed wrong, that everything had grown a shade darker, or that the collective senses of everyone she knew had become duller.

            I had to talk to her.  There was no just wanting or needing it to be so, the truth was that I had to talk to her.  I debated going to her gravesite and unloading to a tombstone, but I hadn't been there since the funeral, and it just didn't feel like Grams there.  That was merely where she had landed, not at all where she had been or who she was.  Since the reality of a reunion was in fact impossible, I had to figure out the next best thing.

            As I sat in front of the window, mug of tea in hand, wrapped snuggly in one of her many quilts, I pondered how to reconnect with her.  I was slightly embarrassed at how long I had allowed myself to sit there without realizing that I had been in the perfect spot from the beginning.  Whenever there was a talk to be had, it took place where I sat.  In our respective seats, we had worked through many a problem together, and it was the place that we could be as open as the situation called for.  At least it was the place where I could be that open, as Grams was always perfectly exposed, without ever being vulnerable.

            Despite my discovery of the perfect place, I was having an increasingly difficult time bringing myself to actually speak out loud.  Trying to imagine a discussion between us in my mind only served to have me lost in the tangle of thoughts again.  Was this something I could even do?  Would people find out and send the men in white coats for me for talking to those from the beyond?  Perhaps my reluctance was a sign that I needed to handle things on my own, I wondered.  The realization came about that I was actually stressing out on the proper way to de-stress, and it was then that I could almost hear Grams telling me to snap out of it, that stewing around never helped anyone with anything.  She never liked it when I would fret, and was never shy about telling me so.

            The imagined sound of her voice, so clear in my memories was more than I had been expecting, and I was overcome with excitement to feel her around me again, but also incredible pain that while this was a touching substitute, it was not, and never would be, the real thing.

            "I miss you, Grams," was all it took before the tears came.

            I stared at her chair through blurry, water filled eyes, picturing what she would look like sitting beside me, how she would be leaning against the arm, holding gently onto her mug, waiting patiently for me to continue, never once rushing me through, trying to make the uncomfortableness end, but allowing me to get it out.

            Leaving that kind of hurt inside is like choosing to give yourself cancer, she would say.  You are the only person who can decide to not let that eat you alive.

            "You know," I sniffled hard, wiping my eyes and chuckling to myself.  "I think I have cried more in the last few days than I have in the last five years?"

            I imagined her laughing kindly as I worked to pull myself together.

            "Really though," I sighed.  "I miss you so much.  Life just isn't as fun without you around.  I will admit it has certainly been interesting around here since you left.  I never would have thought that I would end up back in Biddleton, or even more freakish, that I would be enjoying myself here.  Believe me, I am just as shocked as you.  Um..."  I paused, not at all sure what to say next to my invisible companion.

            Come on sweetie, just spit it out, she would insist.

            I took a deep breath, "Okay, well.  Mom has lost her mind.  Like, drove-several-states-over-with-her-scary-trucker-guy-of-the-moment-to-extort-money-from-her-daughter lost her mind.  I know that she normally would have gotten the best of me, and I would have rolled over and given it to her, but for some reason, last night, I was able to hang on.  I think you would have been really proud of me for that.  I am sure it isn't over or anything, I mean, you know mom, she isn't one to just let things go.  I still can't understand how someone as awful as her came from someone as amazing as you."

            And yet, someone as amazing as you came from someone as awful as her, she had once said.  So, I guess it is a crap shoot.

            "Sometimes, I think you did that on purpose," I smirked.  "That you left me that money knowing how she would flip out so that maybe I would finally stand up to her.  You were a sneaky old woman, that’s for sure.  If we didn't figure out things on our own, you would find a way that we would!  About that money though...  What am I supposed to do with it?  That is a lot of flippin' money Grams, I never even knew you had that kind of cash lying around!  As I said, sneaky, sneaky.  I don't want to waste it though, but I don't have a clue what to do with it.  I keep wondering if you had some amazing master plan that I am supposed to figure out, some magical perfect thing that I am supposed to use that for, and I am so afraid I won't get it right.  I wouldn't want to disappoint you by messing it up.  I wish you could just tell me, you know?"

            I am sure you will do the right thing with that money, Max, would be her response.

            "Of course you couldn't just tell me." I rolled my eyes.  "Then I wouldn't learn anything would I?  You were always like a walking fortune cookie, you know that?  It would have been irritating if you weren't always right, that's for sure."  I took a moment, stopping to sip my tea, fiddling with the corner of the quilt, running my fingers over the carefully stitched design.  "I don't know what to do here.  I don't know whether to stay or go.  Every inch of me is wanting to scream that I should go running as fast as I can in the opposite direction of this place, but I am not sure if I am ready to leave just yet.  It feels different here now.  It is weird though, everyone has changed a lot, but they are somehow exactly the same.  It is hard to explain."

            Maybe you're the one who has changed.

            "I have changed, but when I am here, I feel exactly like I used too.  Like an awkward fourteen year old who is waiting for someone to throw gum in her hair.  I don't see how I could have grown up to be this perfectly normal, semi-sane person in the real world, but I come back to Biddleton and it is this warp speed regression.  It's so strange that I hate this place more than even you knew, but I can't seem to make the choice to leave yet."

            There must be a reason then.

            "Well, yeah.  Do you remember Callie Davids?  Okay, you can't answer that.  Anyway, Callie for reasons that I cannot begin to understand seems to want to be my friend.  And I just adore her, but it feels so bizarre that for one thing, anyone here would want to be a friend of mine, but also that it would be someone as amazing as her.  We actually hang out, and talk to each other.  In fact, she was there last night when Mom came by.  Wow, I wish you could have seen that, Callie wasn't scared of her at all!  I was shivering in my shoes, but there is little Callie, ready to throw down with the scariest woman I know.  It really was incredible.  Mostly I can't believe that somebody stood up for me.  Other than you, and don't get me wrong, I will always be eternally grateful for your always being on my side, but no one else has ever tried to defend my honor so to speak.  I have never had that kind of friend before."

            What else?

            "I know this is going to sound nuts, well more nuts I guess since I am sitting here talking to an empty chair, but I can't bring myself to move any of your things.  It feels like I am keeping some Grams shrine, and I know that is odd, but I just can't bear to touch anything.  I don't want to disturb everything that you worked so hard to put in place.  I mean, am I supposed to sell the house?  That breaks my heart, even the thought of it, but what if I can't stay?  I wouldn't want to just leave it here.  And if you were here, I know you would be looking at me like I had gone nuts, which, again is a real possibility right now, but everything that I do like that, all it does is remind me that you are gone, and I am taking away what little pieces of you that are left."

            They are just things Mackenzie, she would smile.  If you threw everyone one of them away, it wouldn't change a thing about who I was, or the fact that I am gone.  Besides, if you leave everything the way it was, you will never be able to move on.

            "Well, maybe I don't want to move on."  I could almost feel the incredulous look that she would have given me.  "Okay, I probably should, but I don't know where I am moving on to.  Perhaps unpacking a little bit would be a good start.  At least then I wouldn't feel quite as pitifully nomadic as I do right now.  And honestly, it hasn't been that terrible since I have been back in Biddleton, so I suppose it wouldn't kill me to stay around for a little bit longer.  Just until I figure out what I am going to do next, right?"

            So, what is the other reason you are wanting to stay?  I felt that this was less something Grams would say, and more of my guilty conscience getting in the way of my little experiment.

            "So maybe, just maybe, I want to stay for him too.  A little bit."  I blushed at no one.  "I can't believe you never told me how close you guys were!  Of all the weird things, I spent twelve years going to school with Ben Stevens, and the thing that brings us together as friends nearly a decade later is my Grandmother.  That is so amazing that you had each other like that.  I think he gets pretty lonely up here with his family gone, and I know he misses you a lot too.  I feel so terrible that I boycotted any conversations that included Biddleton stuff, and so I never knew about the two of you.  He is a very nice person though, I think we might be good friends at some point maybe.  I will say that it sucks a little bit being back to where I am pining unrequited after Ben Stevens, but the up side is that now I get to talk to him.  Clearly, my station in life is improving, ha!"

            Unrequited?

            "I know he asked me on the official date and everything, but it seems like maybe he changed his mind.  It felt like he was going to kiss me several different times, but then he just didn't.  I guess maybe he talked himself out of it.  Or came to his senses, depending on how you want to look at it.  It seems more reasonable though, I mean, I can assure you that the thought of Ben Stevens and I together wasn't in the minds of anyone around here, ever.  It is completely okay though, like I said, he is a really nice person and I am glad that we can at least hang out as friends."

            You could just ask him you know.

            "Yeah, just walk up to Ben Stevens and say what?  Do you like me, circle Yes or No?  No, thank you.  Really it is fine, we are just in that friendship zone.  He is a friend."

            ....

            "Okay, so he is a friend that I have mind numbing, soul crushing feelings for, but that is all the more reason not to risk it.  This way, I get to have a part of him, but if I push it, maybe I won't get to have any of him.  It may be the teenager in me speaking, but a little part of Ben is a far superior option to no Ben at all."

            I would think that missing out on an amazing relationship because I was too afraid to try would be an enormous waste.

            "Well, that is because you have always been the proud owner of a never ending supply of gutsiness that the likes of us mere mortals aren't privy to."  I couldn't believe I was trying to change the subject in an imaginary conversation.  "I hope I turn out like you one day.  I can't believe how much I hate the idea of not having you here."

            Staring out the window in a moment of quiet reflection, I was startled by a noise and searched the yard for the source.  When Ben appeared from behind the house, enormous bags of bird seed in hand, I smiled.  He was dressed more casual than I had seen him since my arrival, a grey t-shirt and worn in blue jeans, but he still looked just as proper as he did in his work suits.  I realized it was also the time I had seen him not clad in long sleeves, and very slowly took in the view that was his arms.  Lightly tanned from his time spent working outdoors, the color only served to accentuate the perfectly defined muscles that I had never even realized were there.  That we had spent that much time together and I had remained in the dark on those arms seemed like a terrible crime.  That those arms had been wrapped around me as tightly as they had, well that just hurt to think that it would never go beyond where it had already been.

            My thoughts about those arms were beginning to feel glaringly impure, and I realized I was still technically in a conversation with my imaginary Grams.  Having never attempted to speak to those whom have already passed, I wasn't sure how one politely removes oneself from these situations so that they may freely lust after the neighbor.  Was it like a phone call?  Did I need to politely excuse myself, thank her for her time, and promise to dial again soon?  That felt ridiculous, but at the same time, I didn't feel like I could just carry on with my afternoon and not acknowledge the ending somehow.  When I wondered if I would be leaving some cosmic line open that now Grams would be trapped in the house if I didn't properly disengage, I seriously began to worry about my sanity.

            "Okay, Grams," I laughed.  "I'll let you get back to that eternity thing for a while.  Thanks for the talk though, I missed this."  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, as if to close the door in my mind.  "I love you."

            My venture into the sixth sense ended for the day, I turned my attention back to the man outside, working calmly around the bird feeders.  It was always entertaining for me to watch this.  He gave no inclination that he was aware he was being watched, and while my voyeurism served me with a twinge of guilt, it wasn't even close to being enough to get me to turn away.  I could have stared at those arms all night long and then some. 

            Again, my mind went to the place in which those and any other appendages of Ben's would only be offered to me in a friend capacity.  I had let myself believe that perhaps we were on a path to something different, dangerously against my better judgment.  I shouldn't have been surprised in the slightest, but was disappointed for obvious reasons.  It was as if I had been shown the most delectable dessert on the menu, and told that this culinary treasure had been chosen especially for me, and as I sat there, mouth watering, imagining the taste, the sensation of devouring it, at the last minute I would be presented with a week old cupcake from a grocery store.

            I wasn't sure if this analogy had left me hungry or in desperate need of sex, but either way, I was feeling a bit twitchy.

            This was his fault anyway.  He is the one who made such a big deal about asking me on official dates and such.  The thought of us in a dating situation never would have even entered my mind, and yet he planted those seeds, and now he was the one ripping them back out of the ground. 

            Maybe imaginary Grams was right.  Now there is a sentence you never want to hear yourself say...  All the same, the advice was worth further inspection.  I could talk to him, just to clarify our relationship.  That couldn't hurt anything, could it?  This way he could tell me for certain that he realized that maybe the spark just wasn't there, or that he figured out that we really were two very different people, and then I would know.  Then it would rip that damn band-aid off, instead of tearing out one helpless arm hair at a time as it had been going. 

            If I went about this the right way, I could engineer it so that there would be no awkwardness, I would agree with his assessment, and agree that obviously the friend’s route was the best path for us.  I might not have all of him, but I would have something, and I had grown too attached to let it all go. 

            This was a brilliant plan. 

            I stood up, smoothing myself out as I headed for the door.  I would go to him calm and collected, the picture of self assuredness and maturity, a grown up in every sense, the epitome of someone who understands that the dynamics of some relationships just don't fit the mold that we had hoped.  Maybe he would be so impressed by my cool demeanor and he would come to see me in a different light, one where he carried me romantically off into the sunset in those arms...

             I had just enough time to shake off my counterproductive imagery before he looked up and saw me.

            "Hey, Max!" he smiled the smile that poured through his eyes. 

            Alright, here it is, smooth sailing, perfectly calculated adult discussion.  I took in a nice deep breath.

            "Why the hell won't you kiss me!?" I yelled.

            Oh yeah, real smooth sailing.  Brilliant.

            "I'm sorry, what?" he half choked.

            "Why won't you kiss me?" I ranted on.  This was going swimmingly.  "You are the one who started this whole thing, talking about us dating, and acting like you were going to kiss me, and then you never do.  So, I want to know why?  Is there some reason?  If you aren't into the dating thing anymore you could have just said so, but no.  Instead you still come around me, doing things like being amazing when my loony ass mother and her free range body guard come strolling into town to put a hit on me.  Oh, and letting me spill my pathetic life and fall asleep with me on the couch!" I marched even closer to him, watching his face but seeing only shock as I unloaded.  "You kiss my cheek, and kiss my hair, but you won't actually kiss me!  These are some very serious mixed signals here you know, and quite frankly, it isn't polite.  For such a nice guy, this is pretty jerky way to act to someone, especially someone who has actual feelings for you!"  A normal person would have taken this moment to flee into the woods, never again to be seen by humanity.  "So, what is it?  I mean, just say it, just be a man and say it already!"

            I stood there panting, hands clenched into fists, staring at him, mentally congratulating myself for my cool head.

            "Are you... done?" he asked, his eyes very wide.

            "Yes, um," My words were coming considerably slower.  "Yeah, I guess so."

            "Okay, then," he sucked in a breath, rubbing his hand over his forehead as he walked slowly towards me.  "That was a lot of uh, information."

            I could only watch him as he moved.

            "Well, Max," he began.  "The reason I haven't kissed you is because I wasn't sure you were ready for me to.  You are going through an awful lot right now, so I thought that taking things slowly might be the best option.  I have actually attempted to kiss you, but the first time you fell down, and another time you looked like you were about to have an aneurysm, so I just took it as it wasn't the right time.  Also I was a bit worried for your safety.  And to be honest, I wasn't sure if you were even interested.  Some days you seem to be into the idea of you and I, but then it seems like you are trying to push that away.  I am just trying to keep up."

            Oh god.

            My eyes met his, and I had the sensation that I might throw up.

            "Alright then," I plastered a manic smile on my face.  "Well thank you for clearing that up!  I really have to be going, but thank you for your time."

            I turned to dart for the house, but as always he was faster than I.  His hand clamped around my arm as soon as I turned and he brought me back around to face him.  Facing him is term used loosely to explain this situation as there was no force in the universe strong enough to bring me to make eye contact.

            "You and your escape plans,"   I could hear the grin in his voice.  "Look Max, I am sorry if I gave you the wrong idea."  Without releasing me, he gently slid his arms around my waist.  Even in the midst of potentially fatal mortification, I was able to further appreciate the arms.  Far more impressive close up, it must be said.  "The truth is that I want to kiss you.  Of course I do, how could I not?  You are adorable, somehow completely confident and totally self conscious all at the same time.  You are clumsy, smart, an amazing conversationalist, once we worked out the concept of course.  You are honest, most people would have never have had the guts to open up to me the way you did the other night.  You are so strong, but you have no idea, which makes it that much more endearing.  You are beautiful and encompassing, and perfectly unpolished.  Of course I would want to.  All I have wanted to do since I met you is kiss you.  From the moment you walked into that house when you came back, it was all I could do not to grab you right then, but I figured it would be an inappropriate way to say hi after ten years.  Every second of every minute I spend with you is an exercise in self control, and if I'd had any idea, even the slightest notion, that you had been ready, I wouldn't have been able to stop myself."

            Somewhere in his explanation, I looked up at him, I couldn't not.  It was the most incomprehensible thing I had ever heard.  It was the other way around, it always had been.  These were things people said about Ben Stevens, not things Ben Stevens ever has to say. 

            It was also the most intensely romantic thing I had ever heard in my life.

            This was especially impressive to someone whose opinions of romance had been reared on a veritable buffet of cheesy chick flicks. 

            "I, uh, I..." I stammered, unable to break the hold the ocean of his eyes held over me.  "I don't know what to say."

            The corner of his mouth pulled up ever so slightly, and with his perfectly satin voice insisted, "Say you're ready."

            My head felt as if it were about to explode, I forced myself to breathe, knowing how this had been a downfall in the past. 

            "I'm ready."

            He pulled me in tightly locking me against him.  His head dropped until our foreheads were pressed together, and I struggled to control any breaths that I managed to pull in.      It wasn't until I pressed my hands into his chest that I discovered that his breathing was just as unsteady as my own.  His face tilted into mine, and his lips brush lightly against mine before he stopped suddenly.

            "I am warning you now," he murmured.  "That once I start, I may not be able to stop."

            "I think I can make my peace with that," I almost gasped.

            Before I could compose myself further, his lips were on mine.  The lips that I had dreamed about and longed for every day of my adolescence.  The beautiful, soft, perfect lips attached to the man that I had completely fallen for in a scenario that even as we stood, still seemed so impossible.  My fists clutched his shirt, trying to pull him closer still, while his

hands made their way up to my face, holding it securely in his palms as he kissed me. 

            The laws of the universe state that when something has been built up for so many years, with this much passionate fascination powering it, that should the object of the obsession ever come to fruition, it is destined to fall flat, never possibly living up to the hype. 

            Imagine my elation at being the one exception that proves the rule.

            Moments later, as the kiss dwindled down to smaller, softer brushes, I tried to force my brain into some form of action.  My entire body felt like putty, moveable, but not at all stable.  My brain was too taken by flashbacks of the last several minutes to form any kind of rational thought.  When he finally pulled away slightly, laying his forehead against mine again, we both strained to pull in oxygen. 

            "Soo...." I gulped loudly.  "Would you like some tea?"

            He laughed openly and nodded.  "Sure."

            I turned on my heel and walked zombie-esque into the house, Ben close behind me, his hand on the small of my back.  I wasn't sure if he was leading me, or hoping to keep me upright, but either way I didn't care in the least.  The only part of my body that seemed to have any feeling whatsoever was the few inches that his hand covered.

            In the kitchen, set the kettle on the stove and turned to grab some mugs out of the cabinet when Ben, who had been standing incredibly close anyway, came up behind me and looped his arms around my waist, and began dragging his lips along my neck.  I almost dropped the mugs.

            I spun around and wrapped my arms tightly his shoulders and allowed myself to be enveloped by him.  His levels of perfection indeed knowing no limitations, absolutely extending into his kissing abilities. 

            "Oh!" I exclaimed.

            Without breaking our lip to lip contact, Bed placed his hands on my waist and lifted me onto the kitchen counter, our eyes now level with each other.

            "Did you seriously just hoist me onto the counter?" I gasped.  "I didn't think guys actually did that!"

            "The smart ones do," he grinned before pulling me closer into him.

            I may have been rusty on the subject, but with the way he was holding my body against his, and the fact that we were making out like teenagers whose parents were out of town, I had a fairly clear of idea where this might have been headed.  My heart was fluttering out of my chest, and I sincerely wondered if I might have broken a rib.  My body was somehow completely numb and ridiculously sensitive all at the same time.  I couldn't say if my fingers were even still attached or not, but I felt every single minute sensation that crossed my skin. His hands found their way to my hips and  I pulled my arms up to his head, wrapping my fingers into his hair, and made the dramatic mistake of opening my eyes for a split second.

            I saw the pictures of birds scattered around the kitchen and living room.  I saw the pink hat by the door.  Most disturbingly, I saw all the framed prints of myself, Grams and all the various family members littering the walls.  An image of us moving into the purple room flew into my head and stopped me dead in my tracks.

            "Ben, wait," I pushed him away.  "I can't do this."

            "I'm sorry," he apologized, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his face twisted in concern. "This is too much, too fast?"

            "No," I blushed.  "It's just...  I don't think I can do, um, that," I cleared my throat, embarrassed.  "At my Grams house."

            A laugh burst out of him, and his face melted into relief and amusement.  "Well then," he could barely contain his delight.  "I do happen to know of a place nearby that we could go to."

            I giggled and twisted my arms back around his neck.

            "Do you think it would be too much if I were to throw you over my shoulder and take you to my place?"  He pulled one eyebrow up mischievously.

            "Maybe a little much."

            "Alright," he chuckled.  "We will just have to make a run for it then!"

            He twisted around and turned the burner on the stove off.  I had forgotten all about the tea pot.  Glad he was more composed than I had been, or I might have let the house burn down.

            He held out his arms to help me off of my perch, and taking my hand, led me quickly to the back door.  The race to his front door was a fast one, peppered with laughter and anticipation.  As soon as we reached his porch, he had me back in those perfect arms, picking up right where we had left off in the kitchen, and I wasn't sure who was dragging the other into the house, but we never broke away from each other.

            We didn't even make it past the living room.