Life From A Distance

Life From A Distance

Ben

Chapter Twenty

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“Benjamin Michael Foster, where on earth have you been?” Came her voice from the entryway.

I shrugged in the face of my mother’s fearful anger. I knew she was scared that I had left in the first place, and then when I didn’t come home she must have really lost it. I met her gaze for a moment. Her eyes conveyed the depth of her distress, which mirrored the chaos hidden in my own heart.

The man behind her shifted uncomfortably. I allowed my eyes to meet his. He, too, was obviously worried about me, but I simply stared at him, my face betraying nothing of what I felt inside. Ian stood by me, his arm around my shoulder in support as we confronted my parents from a distance.

“Where did you go, Ben?” My mother asked.

“Lots of places,” I said evasively.

“We looked all over for you,” she said. “We looked at school, we looked at the park, we looked here…. We had no idea where you were until Richard called us, and when we went to pick you up, you were gone again.”

“Where did you go, son?” My dad asked.

“What do you care?” I demanded.

“Where did you go, Benjamin,” Dadtwo asked with an edge.

“I went to talk to Mike,” I said, a hint of the betrayal I felt creeping into my voice. “Then I called Mark and Matt. They asked their dad if I could stay, and he said yes. He called you sometime after I went to bed.”

“Why did you leave then?” My mom asked.

“I didn’t want him to find me,” I stated unrepentantly, indicating my father.

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Ben…” Dad began as he took a step toward me.

I matched his movement with a step backward, closer to the glass door leading to the back yard. He halted where he stood.

“Son, you have to understand…,” my father started in a conciliatory tone.

“I understand just fine,” I grated.

Another step forward was matched with another step back. Ian now stood between us. He turned to face me.

My boyfriend whispered, “Give him a chance to explain, Benji.”

Ian’s father spoke over his son. “Why don’t we sit down and talk. There are some things that need to be said here, I think.”

I glanced at Dadtwo. His face demanded I do as he said. Without comment or change in expression, I walked into the kitchen and brought a chair back to the family room, placing it deliberately by the glass door. Ed frowned but made no comment. The significance of my action was not lost on either of my parents. My mother glanced at my father, her expression troubled. They sat on the couch, placing my dad in an uncomfortably close proximity to me. I didn’t trust him. As far as I knew, he blamed me for Mike’s death and wanted to make me pay for it.

Rayray, Liz, and Ed each brought a chair into the room and sat. An uneasy silence fell over us. Ian’s dad looked from me to my father and back again. Seeing neither of us was going to say anything, he cleared his throat and started the dialogue.

“Ben, why did you run away?”

“I told you,” I said flatly.

“Tell me again.” Ed’s words were sharp. “Everyone here needs to know where everyone else stands and what was perceived. You may have heard something that wasn’t said or meant as you think it was. Now, why did you run out of the house?”

“Ask him,” I insisted shortly, glaring at my father. “He knows. If he can remember.”

“I asked you, Benjamin,” was Ed’s reply, his voice low and tight.

A pause.

“He blames me for Mike’s death!” I barked.

“I do not!” My father denied the accusation immediately.

“You do to! ‘It’s his fault Mike is dead and you know it!’” I spat, mimicking my father’s voice. “‘The little punk’s gonna get what he deserves.’ Remember that, dad?”

“I didn’t mean it, Ben,” he said quietly, his eyes meeting mine.

“Couldn’t prove it by me,” I rejoined derisively. “And then you chased me outside yelling at me!”

“Steve?” Ed asked after a short silence.

My father’s head drooped. “Yes. I said those things. I wish I hadn’t. I was drinking… it doesn’t excuse anything. I wish I hadn’t, and I’m sorry.” He raised his eyes to meet mine. “I’m sorry, Ben.”

I stared at my dad, my eyes hard and my jaw set. Whether he meant what he said about being sorry wasn’t really relevant any more. I didn’t feel safe around him.

Dad continued, “Your mom and I have talked a lot since you ran away, Ben.”

He looked at her and she took his hand in tacit support.

“When you left, I was so afraid I’d lost you, too. I can’t lose you, Ben. I love you, and I’m sorry.”

Tears filled his eyes as he spoke. Unmoved, I simply stared at him.

“We’re going to get counseling. We know we have problems, son. We’re going to work things out so we can be a family again. It’s not going to be easy sometimes, but we both want to make this work.”

“And you want me, too?” I asked bitterly. “The person who killed your son?”

“Ben, you didn’t kill Mike. I know that.”

“That’s not what you said!” I accused.

“I know, Ben. That was the liquor talking, not me. I’m not going to drink anymore, Ben. I promise.”

Tears rolled down his cheeks and fell into his lap. He leaned forward and spoke earnestly. I shrank back reflexively. His face contorted with the pain my reaction brought him.

“We need you, son. We love you and we need you. You have no idea how sorry I am for what happened, and I hope that you can forgive me and give me another chance. Please, Ben. Please, son, come home.”

Mom placed her arm around his shoulders and he sat back, leaning into her. I watched him, weighing the sincerity of his words. I wanted to trust what he said. I wanted the love of my father. I needed that love.

He loves you, Benji. He’s our dad. Don’t leave him alone.

Mike’s words broke through the lingering doubts. I felt tears form in my eyes.

“Okay,” I whispered, answering both my father and brother with the same breath.

My dad rose from the couch hesitantly and nearly stumbled before kneeling before me. The tears still flowed freely down his face. My own tears began to flow as I realized how much my dad meant to me. A sob threatened to overwhelm me.

“Please come home.” he whispered gruffly, a catch in his throat. “I need you so much, Ben. We both need you.”

“I need you too, Dad, but I’m afraid!” The sob hit me hard. “I don’t want you to hate me!”

Dad swept me up into his arms and hugged me tightly.

“I don’t hate you, Ben. I love you so much. I’m sorry, son… so sorry.”

Dad began to cry with me while the rest of my family looked on. I felt mom wrap her arms around us a moment later and felt her tears join ours. Ian’s hand was on my back, letting me know he was there for me too.

There wasn’t a dry eye in the room. After recovering sufficiently, Rayray had hugged me and whispered his unwavering support. Ian’s embrace was long and tight, conveying his love in the only means available to him at that moment. Momtwo and Dadtwo added their love as I moved to sit between my parents on the couch. I stopped before them, my gaze going from one to the other.

“What is it, Ben?” My mother asked.

“You’re really going to get help?”

“We’re all going to go to counseling, baby,” mom answered. “We all need it to help us deal with Mike’s passing.”

I pressed on, “You’re going to stop arguing?”

“We’re going to try, son,” dad replied. “We may still argue from time to time, but we’ll work on it.”

“And,” Ed inserted, “If it gets to be too much for you, Ben, you can always come here no matter what. We’ll show you where we keep the key so you can get in if we’re not here.”

I looked at my parents and saw that they were nodding in agreement.

“You’ll always have a place in my room, Benji,” Ian said with a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“Or mine,” Murray interjected.

“I hope that you won’t need to take them up on it, though, son,” my father said quietly. “We’re going to really try and make this work.”

My mother added, “For all of us.”

I could only hope it would be so.