Life From A Distance
Ben
Chapter Thirteen
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.
“Benjamin, wake up.”
I opened my eyes. I had dozed off while reading Mike’s journal. Mom and dad stood at the door to my bedroom, neither of them looking very happy. Rolling over, I put Mike’s journal on the side table and then sat up, leaning against the headboard. They stood there watching me as I moved, and when I’d settled in they continued to observe me. I mutely returned their gaze.
Nothing I had done the night before was wrong in my estimation. I escaped their arguing and visited my brother’s grave. The fact it had been in the middle of the night was irrelevant.
The silent standoff continued. My father was growing agitated while my mother maintained a calm demeanor. At last, when he couldn’t take it any more, my dad spoke.
“Well?” He demanded. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
I shrugged.
“Answer me, Ben,” he commanded, his irritation growing. “Now.”
“I have nothing to say,” I replied evenly. “You know when I left and why, and where I went. There’s nothing more to tell you.”
“That’s not good enough, Benjamin!”
“What do you want from me, huh?” I asked, a little heat entering my voice. “Do you want me to tell you that I hate it when you guys fight? That I can hear every word you say? That I know you’re arguing about me? That… that… that you’d rather it was me that was dead instead of Mike? Huh?”
“That’s not true, Ben,” mom said urgently. “We never thought that. Not even once!”
I simply stared at them.
“You’re changing the subject, Michael,” my father said in an accusatorial voice.
“See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” In spite of myself, I felt a tear form in my eyes.
When he realized what he’d done, my father blanched. He turned around and walked across the hall to his room. My mother looked after him, sad concern etched on her features. When the door closed she walked in and sat on the bed next to me.
“Ben, your dad doesn’t mean what you said,” mom shared quietly. She placed a hand on my knee and continued. “He doesn’t wish you were gone instead of Mike. You two looked so much alike… I have to remind myself every time I see you that you’re my Benji and that Mikey is not with us.”
“I’m sorry that me being alive is such a burden,” I spat sarcastically, and then continued more seriously, “Maybe I should…”
“Benjamin Michael Foster you stop that talk this instant!” She barked, her voice hot. “No, you shouldn’t. What would that do? It would destroy me and your father completely. It would devastate the Kettingers, especially Ian. What would Mike say to you about such a thought?”
I didn’t answer her. I turned away and curled up on my bed.
“Ben, honey, that wouldn’t solve anything. All it would do is hurt the people you love and who love you. You taking your own life wouldn’t show anybody anything, it wouldn’t prove anything, and the only thing it would make people feel is sad.”
“I’m not going to off myself,” I told my mom. “I promised Mike and Ian I wouldn’t.”
“I’m glad to hear that, honey. Very glad. I couldn’t handle it if I lost you too, Ben.”
I turned back to look at her. Her eyes were full and tears streaked her face. I sat up again to face her.
“Mom, why did Mike die?” It was a question I had been wanting to ask for months.
“I don’t know, sweetheart. Maybe his task was complete and God called him home.”
“Why would God take him away from us?” It was another question that I had wanted to ask.
She thought for a moment before replying, “We’ll never know that, Ben. Not until we’ve lived our lives and pass on. Maybe not even then. But you know, Mike is watching over us and protecting us all the time.”
“I know. He was with me last night at the cemetery. He kept me safe and warm.”
She smiled and put her hand on my face to caress my cheek. “You see? He loved us in life, and he loves us even now that he’s gone. We’ll never be without him. He loved you so much, Ben. He talked about you all the time when he and I were alone. He was always so excited to be with you.” She chuckled. “It got to be annoying at times.”
“I know,” I agreed. “He was so hyper some times. We were supposed to be identical, but there were a lot of differences, too.”
“Remember those, Ben,” she said. “That is what keeps Mike alive in your heart.”
“Mom, I love you. I mean, I really love you. I know I don’t say it often, but with what happened… you never know when it’s the last time you’ll see someone. So I want to tell you, so you know.”
“Oh, Benji…”
She engulfed me in a hug. It was the first embrace from her that felt real in what seemed like years. It was full of comfort, warmth, and love.
I hadn’t realized how much Mikey had written. His journal actually consisted of several dozen notebooks. He wrote just about a page a day, sometimes even more. As I read, Mike began to take on new dimensions in my mind. My brother, the boy I thought I knew, was much different than I thought. He had seemed very present-oriented without a care for the future, but in his journals I learned differently.
I also learned that he was terribly insecure just like I was. He had frequently asked me if I loved him, if I liked him, if I was happy spending time with him, and now I knew why. He was terrified I would reject him. I had always answered in the affirmative because it was true.
December came, and with it the first of the snow for the season. We didn’t get a lot in Le Grande, maybe thirty inches a year. School continued on as usual. I did enough work to get through with reasonable grades but no more.
My parents were still fighting off and on. Their arguments were getting louder each time, and that made me want to run away. I didn’t know where I would run to, however. I could always go to Ian’s, but that would be the first place my parents would look. If I wanted to get away from them, I had to go somewhere they would never think of.
Friday evening, December 5, 1997 was the first time I ran away from home for more than a day. I left home about five o’clock while my parents were arguing and spent the evening at the Grand Avenue Marketplace inside the mall to keep warm. The small amount of cash I had on hand was enough to feed me but the expenditure left me with nothing in my wallet. When the mall closed, I walked to City Park where I spent the night sitting under a low tree, well hidden behind the branches. It was surprisingly warm there in the cold weather, but I knew by morning that I wouldn’t be able to spend another night out in the open.
I returned to the mall the next day, torturing myself by hanging out around the food court when I had no money to get anything. I saw a couple people I knew as I wandered around. One said hello to me, but just in passing. I was wishing I’d brought a book with me when I escaped to help pass the time, but I couldn’t go back to get one.
The mall closed down at nine that evening. I had to find somewhere to go. I didn’t want to go to the cemetery again even though Mike was there. My mind kept bringing me back to Ian’s house, about a mile-and-a-half away. Reluctantly, I followed Seventh Street east until I hit Fir Avenue. A right turn took me south to Olympus Drive. Ian’s house was another half-mile down.
I didn’t let them know I was there because they would call mom and dad for sure, so I walked around through the side gate to the back of the house. The family room and kitchen were dark. Sighing with relief, I crept up onto the deck and curled up next to the house. Sleep was a long time in coming.
I sat straight up in panic, painfully banged my head into the hose bib hanging on the wall and collapsed back to the deck. My head swam as I tried to regain my bearings. Rolling away from the wall, I yelped as I barked my shin against a chair leg, causing it to slide across the deck and then fall over. With a curse, I sat up right under the table and struck my head again.
A light in the house turned on. I scrambled to gain clear overhead so I could run, but by the time I was unsteadily attempting to regain my feet, the deck light had been turned on and the sliding door opened. Ed stood there staring at me, a baton in his hand at the ready.
“Benjamin? Is that you, lad? What on thunder are you doing out here? It’s the middle of the bloody night!” Ed was definitely annoyed.
I finally found my balance and stood, facing away from him. The reality of the situation struck me. I had run away from home. I couldn’t really go back. I had no money and I had no place to go. My parents hated each other because of me and there was nothing I could do to change it. My shoulders slumped and my chin fell to my chest. I took a shuddering breath and turned to face him.
“Lad, are you all right?”
A sob escaped as I tried to hold my emotions in check.
“Ben, what’s the matter? Talk to me, son. What happened?” Dadtwo’s annoyance was now concern.
I shrugged.
“Well, come on in, Ben. You can stay with Ian and we’ll talk about this in the morning.”
I hesitated, and it was not lost on Ian’s father. He gently guided me into the house and examined my face, which I struggled to hold in a neutral expression. He raised his hand and fingered a mark over my eyebrow where I hit the table, and then pulled me into an embrace. I almost broke down, and I would have if he hadn’t released me when he did.
“Off you go, lad. Sleep well.”
I plodded down the hall, past Murray’s room to Ian’s closed door. I stared at the knob for a long moment. Ed, who had followed me after turning off the lights, watched me worriedly. I forced myself to raise my arm and open the door, and then I forced myself to move inside and close the door behind me.
Ian lay on his bed, bundled up in the covers against the chill night air entering from the barely open window. The small amount of light admitted by the shades barely provided enough illumination for me to see the bed.
I stared at Ian’s dark form for a long while before going through the motions of disrobing, and climbed into the bed next to the boy, trying not to disturb him. I failed.
“Who… Ben? What are you doing here?” Ian asked quietly with a pleased tone.
“Hi Ian. I… I’ll tell you in the morning.”
“Okay,” he said through a yawn.
He rolled toward me and threw his arm over me. After a moment, I spooned back into him. He sighed contentedly and pulled me tightly against him. The comfort his presence provided combined with the whole body contact gave me a feeling of safety that I hadn’t felt in a long time.
I slept well, all things considered.