lfad03

Life From A Distance

Ben

Chapter Three

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What greater pain could mortals have than this: To see their children dead before their eyes?

-Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882)

Dadtwo knocked on the front door to my house. My father’s car was not in the driveway as it had been that morning, so my mother answered the door as I expected.

“Benjamin! Where on earth have you been? We’ve been worried…”

Without waiting for her to finish her statement, I shouldered my way past her and went straight to my room. She called after me a couple times but I heard Mr. Kettenger stop her as I closed my door and leaned against it. My room was nearly identical to the room Mike had. The rooms were large compared to most houses, but that was the way the dwellings were built by the Elyssum Heights developer. A double bed and side tables were against the front wall of the house, and a dresser stood in front of the door next to the closet to the left of the bed. A desk, chair and two bookcases filled the wall the door was in, and another set of shelves stood next to them on the far wall. Even with all the furniture there was still plenty of room to stretch out on the floor. Mike, Ian and I had done that plenty of times before because the bed didn’t accommodate three boys very comfortably.

I crawled over my bed and lay down on the floor on the other side, hiding myself from view from the door. My emotions were still running high from visiting Mikey at the cemetery, and I wanted to be alone so I could calm down. I closed my eyes, but a knock sounded a moment later.

“Ben,” Ian called, “Can I come in?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to see Ian. Every time I looked at him I felt a stab to my heart. My memories of Mike were inextricably tied to him and being around him, even for just the short time I had been that day, was excruciating.

The door opened and closed again. Ian had come inside and sat on the bed. He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t have to. Already the tears were falling from my eyes and into my ears. An unexpected sniffle caught me up short. The bed began to shake. Ian was crying, but I didn’t want to look at him or talk to him. I especially didn’t want to touch him. It was unbearable to do so. His touch had broken me at the gravesite, and I didn’t want to be that vulnerable.

A loud sob was followed by the quiet, airy keening that was the misery of a twelve-year-old boy who had lost his blood brother and best friend. It was more than I could take and sobs began to wrack my body as well. We both wept, alone but together in my room. It wasn’t long before Ian spoke through his moans and tears.

“Why do you hate me, Ben? What did I do?”

His words struck a physical blow. I didn’t hate him. I loved him! He was my other brother. How could I possibly hate him?

“Ian, I don’t hate you,” I asserted softly.

“You do to! You do or you wouldn’t have avoided me like you are! I miss Mikey! He was my brother, too!

I sat up and hissed, “Yeah? Well he was my twin!” My voice raised from a fierce whisper to a thunderous roar. “I’ve known him since before I was born! It’s like half of me is dead! I should have been the one! I should have died, not him! Every time I see you, I think of him! Every time I look at you, I think of Mike and how I killed him!”

Ian yelled right back at me, “You think of him when you look at me, but I see him when I look at you! I loved him just like I love you, but don’t let him take you away from me too! Please, Ben, don’t leave me. I’ll d…”

He stopped mid-word as I stood. I knew what he was going to say, and I had a good idea of why he didn’t say it. My fury drained away as I studied his tear-streaked face etched with an indescribable sorrow. Indescribable, that is, if you haven’t experienced it. I moved around the bed and sat heavily, feeling numb. Ian was next to me, still sobbing.

“Why did he have to die, Ian?” I asked, my voice flat and featureless. “I didn’t want him to die.”

I turned to face Ian. His expression was sad beyond measure as he met my eyes.

“I don’t know, Ben. I really don’t.”

Something snapped inside of me, and the tears and grief came pouring back.

“I didn’t want him to die! Oh, God, I don’t want him to die! I don’t want him to die!” As my tears took over, the words became a mantra until I could no longer speak for the sobs.

Ian caught me as I fell into him and wrapped me in his arms tightly. We began to rock gently as we cried, allowing more of our pain to seep away. The warmth of Ian’s body and the feel of his arms around me let me feel just a little bit safer, and a little bit loved.

Another knock at the door startled me so badly that I jumped. Ian and I had somehow lain back on the bed and more fully embraced one another. Perhaps we had even fallen asleep, but the sound had awoken us. The door opened. Mr. Kettenger’s voice came through the opening without him looking in.

“Boys, may I come in?”

Ian looked at me and I nodded. Dadtwo came in as we sat up and leaned back against the headboard. Ian did not take his arm from around my shoulder and I absently rested my hand on his leg. No matter what assertions they had made, I still felt responsible for Mikey’s tragic death. Ed pulled the chair from my desk over and sat by the bed. His eyes examined us for a moment before he spoke.

“Benjamin, you must pack some of your things in a sack. Your mum and dad have agreed to allow you to stay with us. Ian can help you, but don’t take too long. We’ll be leaving in ten minutes.”

“What if I don’t want to go?” I asked tremulously.

Ed looked me right in the eyes with a sad, compassionate expression. “You don’t have a choice, lad.”

I blinked as the ramifications of that statement sunk in. My parents didn’t want me anymore. I killed Mike and now they didn’t want me. Tears came again as I climbed out of the bed and got a large duffle out of the closet. When I turned around, the man who was my second father stood in front of me. He placed his hands on my shoulders and lowered himself until we were eye to eye.

“Ben, this is only temporary. A lot has happened and your parents have things they need to get straight, and so do you. They need some time alone, and you need to be with people instead of isolating in your room. Your parents love you very much, but everyone needs some time to come to terms with Mike’s passing.”

I knew he believed what he was saying, but I wasn’t convinced that it was the truth. If they really loved me, they would have told me instead of letting Ian’s dad do it. The very real fear that I had not lost just my twin but my entire family lodged itself in my brain, and tears were still falling when he pulled me into a hug. I stood there passively, not moving. He released me and allowed me to go about packing my things while watching me for a bit. When he was satisfied I was doing as he asked, he opened the door and went out to speak with my parents again.

Ian and I did not trade a single word after Ed left the room. There was nothing I could say the could possibly express what I was feeling. There were no words to be found that could explain the love I held for Mike. The guilt, pain and sadness in my heart were beyond description. Ian helped me in silence. He would hold up items for my approval, and with a nod or a shake of the head I would direct him to pack it or put it back in its place.

We were done shortly before Ed came back to collect us. He opened the door without warning, startling me yet again.

“Finished, are you?” He inquired in a normal voice that was belied by his compassionate visage.

I swallowed hard and nodded, not willing to speak nor trusting that if I did it would be intelligible.

“Okay then, let’s go, boys.”

He attempted to take my bag but I refused to relinquish it. He looked down on me and smiled silently. A quick nod from him sent me on my way out of the room. When I passed the door to my brother’s room, I stopped and stared at it. There was a paper sign on the door in the shape of an orange construction sign. It read, “Disaster Area - Enter At Your Own Risk.” I turned the knob on the door, and it squeaked about half-way through the motion. It had done that since I could remember. A superhuman effort was required to open the door, and not because of some physical impediment.

I entered Mike’s room and looked around. It was set up identically to mine, of course, and it looked exactly as it had the day he died except for the bed. I had slept there every night since. A hesitant step took me to his desk. I opened the bottom drawer and dug behind the junk that Mikey had piled in there to find a book.

One of the things my twin did that I didn’t was to keep a diary. Mom and dad gave us both journals on our tenth birthday, but I never did anything with mine. I saw his all the time. It became so common to see him hunched over his journal that it usually passed notice. Out of respect for him I had never read a single word he didn’t specifically show me. Since I was leaving my home for God knew how long, I wanted to take it with me. I also grabbed his pillow off his bed, the pillow that still held his scent.

Slowly I turned away and walked back out of my brother’s room. It felt empty and cold, which matched my heart perfectly. Suddenly I ran back to my room and picked up a picture from my desk. It showed the two of us standing together in swim trunks at the beach on our last vacation. Mike’s grin was especially wide as he had slipped rabbit ears in behind me without my noticing. It was my favorite picture of him. I methodically went through my room and removed every single picture that showed so much as a hint of Mike’s presence, including the one he had shot of me with his finger in the way.

When I was done, I turned to see my parents standing in the doorway. They had their arms around each other and my mother was crying quietly. I stared at them for a moment before walking past them. My duffle bag in hand, I walked out the front door to Ian’s dad’s Cherokee and got in. A short time later Ian and Ed joined me, the boy sitting next to me in the back seat. At another time I would have been touched by the gesture. We buckled in and took the two block drive to the Kettenger’s residence.

The house looked identical to my own from the street, and in reality it was very similar inside as well. The interior layout differed in only one major way: a portion of the master bedroom which would have been across the hall from my room in my house had been converted into a media room. Also, the formal living room to the right of the entry hall contained a pool table and a dartboard along with an entertainment center, but none of this enthused me that day.

Ed pulled the Jeep into the garage and closed the door behind us. Mrs. Kettenger’s car was there, so I knew she was home. Reluctantly, I got out of the truck and followed Ian and Ed into the house.

Ian’s mother Elizabeth, or Liz as she preferred, was in the kitchen with Murray, Ian’s younger brother.

“Hello, Ben,” she said as if everything was normal. “Dinner’s just about ready. Go get washed up.”

I blinked at her for a moment and then did as she said. Ian led me down the hall past the game room and the family room to the back hall. His bedroom was in the same position mine was at my house. Ian led me into his room and placed my duffle on his bed.

“I’ll clear out some room in the closet and the dresser for you, Ben. Dad said you’ll be staying with me in my room.” He blushed a little bit. “He was going to put me and Murray together, but I asked him to let you stay with me. I hope you don’t mind. You can still have Ray’s room if you want it.”

His expression displayed some anxiety. He wanted me to stay with him. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to. Ian, Mike and I had played sexual games for the past two years or so, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to continue with Mike not being there.

As if he read my thoughts, Ian stammered, “It’s not… I don’t want…. Ben, I want you to stay with me because… I miss Mike, and I know you do, too. Maybe… maybe we could just hold each other? I don’t care about those other things. I just need you with me. Please?”

Somewhere deep below the shell solidifying around my heart I realized that I wanted Ian close too. Maybe it would be okay to be scared and lonely and sad with him. I really hoped I could. Only time would tell.