Accidents Happen

2. Ben

I spent three sleepless nights, tossing and turning, thinking and crying. Trying to come up with some sort of idea of how I would deal with the situation I had found myself in. Because I was to blame. I had gone out that night with my friends and I had slept with some guy I'd only just met. It had been my choice. I knew the risks. How could I ever have thought it was a good idea to cheat on my boyfriend and fail to use a condom? Maybe the alcohol was the catalyst for that one. But even the day after, I could've gone to the doctors and got the morning after pill, but no. Because the idea of falling pregnant had never once crossed my mind. This wasn't supposed to happen.

Like losing my job at the bar because of being constantly late. Or getting into a relationship that I probably shouldn't have been in with a man I'd known for three days. Or moving half way across the world away from my family to live out some stupid dream of becoming an actress. A dream that with every passing failed audition was getting further and further away.

No, nothing bad ever happened to Allison Henry.

I text the only person I really knew in England. He'd been the only constant in my life since meeting him at one of the theaters I had ushered in while he'd been the sound guy. Two years had gone by since and we remained close. He was in a band about to hit the big time, who'd already toured and had a big internet following. I took great pride in telling everyone that I was friends with the keyboard player from To Kill A King.

'Ben.' I text. I wasn't sure if he was home or traveling or, judging by it being 3am, sleeping. But I needed to talk to him, to tell him what I'd done. And moments later, my phone buzzed.

'Al.'

'I fucked up.'

'What have you done now? :p'

'I need to speak to you when r u home?'

'Now. R u ok?'

'Can I come over? It can't wait til morning.'

'Of course. I'll put the kettle on.'

I drove across London through silent streets, the journey taking a quarter of the time it normally would without the traffic. I was shaking as my hands gripped the steering wheel. What would Ben think? Our friendship was strong, we'd shared a lot of details about our lives that other people would judge. But with us, nothing really mattered. He was a surrogate brother and best friend rolled into one. We were drinking buddies and someone you could text at 3am and he would drop everything.

He was at the front door to the house as I pulled up. He was wearing pajama bottoms and nothing else, a familiar sight. How was he not cold? It was November, and cold. He looked tired.

'I'm sorry if I woke you-' I began as I walked up the dozen steps. My voice echoed down the quiet road.

'You didn't. I've been in America and got some serious jet lag. I can't sleep for shit.'

'Same.' I smiled sadly, finally reaching him and falling into his arms. All at once I felt myself crumble under the weight of the situation.

'Hey, hey, what's this all about?' Ben squeezed me tightly against his bare chest and kissed the top of my head. He led me up to the first floor flat and directly into the living room. He sat me down and held my hand.

'I fucked up.' I repeated what I'd told him in the earlier text. I could hardly speak for crying.

'Whatever you've done, we can fix it. I can help. Do you need money?' I shook my head. 'Do you want me to beat someone up?' I laughed slightly and wiped my face with my sweater sleeve.

'I...' I couldn't find the words. I knew the words. But saying them out loud was the hardest thing I'd ever had to do.

'I'm here for you, no matter what Al.' I wasn't so sure he'd feel the same once I told him.