Reaping Me Softly

expensive suit. Her first thought: God, he’s so sexy. Her second: What’s he doing here? Alarm infused her third: Why does his skin look gray? She ran to him without thinking twice, crossing traffic as if cars couldn’t kill her.

“It’s just not possible,” she said to her empty room, moonlight her only visitor.

With sleep a forgotten dream, she got out of bed, grabbed her robe, and left, shutting the door behind her as quietly as she could. Her father’s snores down the hall made her pause.

Awkward had joined the two of them for dinner. They’d eaten in silence until her father spoke up.

“You look like you’re either about to cry or run out of the house, honey.” He sprinkled more parmesan onto his lasagna.

“I’m just tired, Dad, that’s all,” came the lie. “School’s been a total pain lately.”

He stared at her. “Is it about Carrie?”

“Carrie? No!” She checked herself. “She’s fine. I left her all smiles.”

“Then what’s really bothering you? And don’t insist it’s school.”

Arianne stared at the ceiling before meeting her father’s steady gaze. “Have you ever been worried about someone?”

His fork hovered above his plate. “Someone?”

She squirmed. “This boy—”

“A boy you like?”

She checked her dinner for habanero peppers. Her neck felt too hot for just lasagna. “No!”

“Honey, it’s fine to like someone. You’re at that age.” He resumed eating, all worry gone from his features. “So, tell me about this boy.”

“No, Dad, it’s not about that. A friend looked sick and I’m worried about him. That’s all.”

“My Ari, always caring for the welfare of others.”

The goofy grin on her father’s face earned a flying chunk of garlic bread that hit him on the chest. Her initial salvo triggered a food fight that had them cleaning the kitchen for the rest of the evening.

Back to the present, her father’s soft snores reminded her of what she needed to do. She hurried down the stairs, shrugging on her robe as she went. After tying the belt tightly around her waist, she slipped into her sneakers and escaped via the back door.

Arianne stared up at the creepy Queen Ann house Ben called home. She’d forgotten to check the time when the impulse to go see him hit her.

Underneath the moonbeams, Ben’s house looked more ominous than it seemed during the day with its turrets and large chimneys. She stood there for a moment longer, debating between going home or climbing up the ladder leaning on the side of the house under Ben’s window.

He won’t be happy, her conscience said.

Who cares? I really need to talk to him.

In the end, her restlessness had her making the climb. She’d been in Ben’s room a thousand times, had witnessed its evolution from toy trucks and comic book superheroes to a baseball fan’s shrine. He had Atlanta Braves posters all over his walls. A bat signed by Dale Murphy lay on a stand at the top shelf of his bookcase. And his most prized possession—a baseball signed by Phil Niekro—sat on his bedside table next to his tomahawk lamp.

Ben slept on his stomach. He’d already kicked his blanket off and his even breathing poured guilt into her gut like liquid fire. Nevertheless, like the good, inconsiderate friend she’d been all these years, she bounced into his bed. Easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

Ben yelped, falling off his bed. “What the hell!”

“Shhh!” Arianne crawled to where he sat. “It’s me. Don’t want to wake your dad now, do we?”

“Ari?” He rubbed his eyelids with the heels of his hands. “What time is it?”

She bit her lip to keep the grin from winning. He seemed coherent enough to hear her out, even if he normally needed hours to get his brain pumping on all cylinders.

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

Ben made a whimpering sound akin to a hurt puppy and climbed back into bed, not caring if he edged her to the side. “You’re going to pay for this.” He reached for a pillow and placed it over his head.

“Ben, come on.” She grabbed his shirt and shook him. “I need to talk. It’s really important.”

“What’s so important that—” He sat up so fast, Arianne almost fell off the bed herself. He grabbed her shoulders, eyes wild and hair standing on end. “Is it Carrie? Is she okay?”

“Eh?”

Her reaction deflated his immediate concern. He glanced at the baseball mitt digital clock on his desk and growled like a poked bear. “Jesus, Ari, it’s four thirty. I have to be up in an hour.”

“Coach managed to reel you into morning training?” Arianne’s eyebrows nearly joined her hairline. “That’s impressive.”

“Big game coming up. But seriously, why are you here?”

He sounded so tired that Arianne hesitated for another second.

“Come on, Ari, spit it out. You didn’t wake me up for nothing.” Ben sat cross-legged, hands clutching his ankles.

Arianne scratched her ear. “It has something to do with Niko.”

His groan almost sounded pained. “Ari, this is ridiculous. You woke me up just to gush about Niko Clark? That’s just cruel, even for you.”

“No, no. Ben, listen. When I saw him at St. Joseph’s today—”

“He was at the hospital?” Ben interrupted.

Arianne waved her hands between them. “No, he was sitting on a bench in a suit.”

“A suit? Ari, did you hit your head or something?”

“Something weird’s going on with him. His skin looked gray, and on the bus, he was fading, and then his basement had a horde of dead people in it.”

Ben stared at her with a blank expression. He blinked once then a second time. Then he pouted and said, “Let’s get our ducks in a row, shall we?”

Arianne nodded reluctantly.

“You saw Niko sitting on a bench outside St. Joseph’s.”

“In a suit.”

“Yes. Then you noticed his skin looked gray.”

“Like sickly gray.”

“And somehow you got on a bus with him.”

“He asked me to take him home,” she answered in all seriousness.

“And he was fading,” Ben continued.

“Yeah, like first his hand, then his arm, and leg.”

“And when you got him home, you saw that his basement has a horde of dead bodies.”

“No! Souls. You know? My kind of ‘dead people.’”

Ben sighed and closed his eyes. “Go back to bed, Ari.”

Her jaw dropped. “You don’t believe me?”

“I’m not in the mood to process right now.” Ben hugged his pillow and yawned. “Let me have my last few minutes of sleep and we’ll revisit this again at lunch. Okay?”

As soon as he lay down, Ben had fallen asleep. Arianne sat on his bed, frozen and dumbstruck.

Arianne walked into the kitchen with a tension headache following close behind. Her conversation with Ben a couple of hours ago baffled her as much as what she’d told him about Niko. It didn’t seem like Ben believed her. Or maybe he did and he was more annoyed with the fact that she’d woken him up too early. She chose to believe the