Life From A Distance
Ben
Chapter Seven
Copyright Notice - Copyright ©2003 by DeweyWriter Ltd.
This story is copyrighted by the author and the author retains all rights. This work may not be duplicated in any form, physical, electronic, audio, or any other form known or unknown without the author’s express written permission. All applicable copyright laws apply and will be enforced.
Life at home was very tense and very lonely. I continued to wear my brother’s clothing much to my parents’ dismay and disturbance. Mikey continued to “talk to me all the time as well, but I told no one that he did. Even Ed and Liz began to give signs that they thought something was terribly wrong with me. The only people who treated me normally were Ian and Murray. Ian asked me occasionally if I had heard my twin recently, but I lied and said no. I didn’t want him to treat me like a freak.
Mom and Dad went back to work the Monday after I came home. Ian called me later in the morning to see if I wanted to do anything with him and his brother but I declined. I wanted to spend time in Mike’s room making sure that everything that I didn’t want out was put away. Ian asked if he could help me and I told him I needed some time alone. He seemed to understand and take it in stride.
When mom returned home from work, I had finished moving everything around. I was firmly entrenched in Mike’s bedroom, reading his journal while laying on the bed. She looked in on me as she passed the open door.
“Hello, sweetie.”
“Hi, mom.”
She continued back to her room. I put Mike’s journal down and picked up the picture of him and me at the beach. He looked so happy. We’d been playing in the water that whole day, and we both looked rather pink. I looked closer and saw a pale spot in the middle of his chest.
“Are you hungry, Mike?”
Mom was standing in my door, having changed clothes. All I could do was stare at her with my eyes wide. I never thought she would call me by my twin’s name again after he had died.
“What is it, Mike?”
She was oblivious to what she had done. I sat up slowly and spoke softly.
“Mom, I’m Ben.”
She looked puzzled for an instant and then blanched before disappearing from the portal. I heard her bedroom door slam shut and a grief-stricken wail no child should hear uttered by his mother. I did not see her again until after my father arrived, nor did I leave what I was beginning to think of as “our” room.
A while later, Dad came into our room and shut the door behind him before taking a seat on the bed. It was seven-thirty that evening. He’d been in with my mom since he’d come home at five.
“Ben, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay in this room, and I don’t want you to wear Mike’s clothes any more,” he ordered sternly. “It’s hard enough for your mother to deal with Mike being gone as it is, and you aren’t helping.”
“Like it’s easy for me?” I barked. “You think I’m not having a hard time? You think it was easy for me to have you kick me out?”
“Now, Ben, we had to do that so your mom could come to accept what happened,” my father explained. His glistening eyes were tight with the strain of holding himself together.
“Oh, so it’s okay for her to be sad, but not for me?” I demanded with heavy sarcasm.
“Of course it’s okay, son, but that’s not the point,” dad said with a quaver in his voice. “The point is that what you are doing reminds her that Mike… that….”
“That Mikey is dead.” I finished his sentence in a cold, emotionless tone.
My father nodded and turned away from me.
“I have to be with your mother right now,” He declared softly as he stood, his voice shaky. I watched him retreat from our room and close the door behind him.
“What am I going to do, Mikey?” I asked the empty room. “I don’t want to let you go.”
You aren’t letting me go, Ben. I’ll always be with you in your heart.
“That’s not good enough!”
It has to be! It’s all you’ve got!
“No!”
My door swung open revealing my father, his eyes red and cheeks stained with tears. I stared at him, my face rigidly expressionless. His gaze scanned the room and came to rest on me.
“M- Ben, who are you yelling at?” He swallowed hard. I knew that he’d almost called me Mike.
“No one.”
“You were talking to someone…”
“I was talking to myself,” I insisted harshly
“Ben….” My father’s voice carried a note of warning. I’d pushed him as far as I dared.
I lay down on my bed and rolled away from him, hugging myself. He closed the door once more and all fell silent. No one fixed dinner that night, but that was okay. I wasn’t hungry anyway.
I refused to be moved from Mike’s room. Dad tried everything from bribery to brute force to evict me, but it was no use. I also continued to wear Mike’s things as a form of rebellion. My dad glared at me every time my mother had to leave the room because she thought I was her dead son come back to life. I returned his gaze impassively or ignored him all together depending on the situation.
Mom wasn’t the only one who occasionally called me by my twin’s name. Dad did it fairly regularly, and even Ian slipped on occasion. I idly toyed with the idea of taking Mike’s name, but Mike convinced me not to.
Saturday, July 26, 1997 is another day I’ll never forget. The day before I’d gotten my hair cut. It was on those days that Mike and I had looked the most alike because his cowlicks didn’t disrupt the style of his hair as much since it was shorter. I got up that Saturday morning early and sat at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal while watching a cartoon on the television. I was planning on going over to Ian’s that morning because a bunch of kids were going to shoot some hoops at the park before it got too hot. Accordingly, I was wearing some board shorts and a tee Mikey had loved.
Mom came in the kitchen and rubbed her hand through my short, bristly hair. She spoke as she was making the coffee.
“What are your plans today, sweetie?” She inquired as she filled up the coffee pot.
“I’m going to the park with Ian,” I replied. “We’re going to shoot some pick-up games and then we’ll eat at his house. I’ll be back for dinner.”
“That sounds like fun,” she commented lightly. “What is your brother going to do?”
I stopped, spoon halfway to my mouth. I didn’t move. I didn’t even breathe.
“Mike, what is Ben going to do?” Mom asked again.
She turned off the faucet and an exasperated sigh escaped her and I heard her turn to face me.
“Michael, I know you heard me.”
I put my spoon back in my bowl and slowly turned so I could see her. Her cross expression didn’t change.
“Mom,” I said, my voice suddenly hoarse, “I’m not Mike.”
Confusion was replaced by anger, and that anger was replaced by a crazed rage. Mom threw the coffee urn at me with all her might. It shattered on the back of the chair I was sitting in, spraying me with water and pieces of glass. She was screaming and yelling at me in some unintelligible language as she threw whatever she could get her hands on in my direction. Ignoring the pain from the impact of various objects, I ran from the kitchen, through the family room and out the front door. I didn’t slow down until I was standing on Ian’s doorstep.
The front door opened shortly after I knocked.
“Well, good morning, Ben.” Ian’s dad greeted me cheerily. His tone changed immediately. “What on earth happened, Ben?”
“Mom…”
“Hi… holy shit!” Ian exclaimed. “What happened to you?”
It was a measure of the concern that Ed felt that he didn’t correct his son’s language. Ian’s father stepped out of the door, followed closely by my blood brother.
The man said softly, “Okay, lad, let’s get you out of those clothes. Ian, go get Ben something to wear, and have your mum bring out the aid kit.”
“Okay, dad.”
“Ben, close your eyes and keep them closed until I tell you it’s all right.”
I did as I was told. Ed helped me remove the t-shirt I was wearing. There were small red stains on it here and there. Mikey would have been so pissed off.
“Okay, lad, now the shoes and socks.”
Other than being wet, my shoes looked fine. I kicked them off and Ed set them aside.
“And the shorts. Keep your boxers, though. There’s a good lad.”
“Here’s the first aid kit, Ed,” Mrs. Kettenger said as she handed him a white box with a red cross on it. “Are you hurt, Ben?” She asked sincerely.
I shook my head in the negative.
“I need a flashlight, too, Liz.”
She left immediately and returned just as Ian did with some of the clothing I had left there.
Ed looked me over using the flashlight. He’d pulled tweezers out of the kit and occasionally plucked a shard of glass from my body. He finished in short order and allowed me inside.
Now you go right in and get in the shower, Ben. I’ll be along presently to wash out your hair.
I made it to the bathroom but I hesitated at getting in the shower. Ian figured out what I was feeling without me saying a word and returned with a pair of swim trunks to wear while Ed scrubbed me down. I smiled wanly at Ian in thanks.
Afterward, Liz ordered me to the table for breakfast. It was only eight-thirty when I sat down to a full meal of eggs, bacon, toast and hash-browned potatoes. The adults allowed Ian and I to eat before launching into the interrogation I knew would be coming. I told them exactly what happened.
“I made my mom go crazy.”