Ben is depressed

　　I think Ben is depressed. He doesn’t say it but he acts it. This whole thing has taken a toll on him. We have three more days before Sunday but there hasn’t been any progress.

　　The phone call hasn’t come yet. I don’t want to agree with Ben that this was a bad idea but seeing him retreat into a shell I never knew he had makes me question a lot of things. What if I was wrong to encourage him to press charges? Now, look at him. 

　　I poke his side and he looks up. “Hey.” 

　　“Hey,” he replies. We are camped in his room. The tension in the house is still unbearable. My hand slips into his briefs to caress his balls. We have only had sex once since we got to San Francisco. Ben doesn’t flinch. His penis remains asleep. Pulling out my hand, he tries to smile. “What are you doing?” 

　　“I’m trying to turn you on,” I whisper.