Life From A Distance

Life From A Distance

Ben

Chapter Twenty-One

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“Aren’t you being a bit hard on them, Ben?” My third visit with my counselor was not going well. “They’re human too, and they make mistakes. Parents aren’t infallible.”

“Look. They said they’d get help, that we’d all go to counseling,” I explained for the third time. “So far, I’ve seen you twice and they haven’t seen anyone.”

“It takes time to find a counselor, Ben,” the woman replied.

“They found you quick enough,” I said petulantly.

“I had a cancellation,” she said clipped fashion. “That’s why you got in so fast. We talked about this during your last visit, too.”

I stared at her. Dr. Brittain was older than my parents by at least ten years. She had obviously colored hair worn short, and the wrinkles on her face told of a life lived in the sun. I didn’t think that she liked me that much.

“Let’s talk about your brother,” she said in an attempt to change the subject.

“No.” My voice was hard and flat.

Dr. Brittain leaned forward and commented, “Ben, I’m worried that what happened to Mike is controlling your life and how you live it.”

“What’s more important is whether or not my mom and dad get a divorce! That’s what’s important.”

“It’s also out of your control,” she rebutted calmly, “which is something else you will have to come to terms with.”

“Yeah, it’s out of my control,” I retorted hotly, “but I’m the reason it all started in the first place.”

“You didn’t kill your brother, Ben,” Dr. Brittain said through a sigh.

I yelled, “Why do you think they’re fighting?”

“You tell me.”

“My dad thinks I did,” I said in a hot voice. “He even said so not more than ten days ago.”

“And then he apologized,” the shrink said in an unruffled tone.

“And then he said it again two days later when he and my mom were fighting again. The walls aren’t very thick.” Sarcasm laced my words. “So if I’m a little hard on my dad, you have to excuse me.”

“Is your dad still drinking?” She asked in an unflappable manner.

“Not yet.”

“You don’t sound very hopeful.” Dr. Brittain commented.

I slouched back in my seat.

“I’m not. If he meant it, he’d be getting help.”

“How do you know he’s not? Have you asked him?”

I looked away from the woman across from me, staring out the window.

“Why haven’t you asked, Ben?”

“I don’t have to. If he was he wouldn’t say he blames me!”

The shrink let a silence draw out for a moment, and then changed the subject.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Ben?”

I shook my head as though trying to keep track of the thread of our conversation.

“What? Where did that come from?”

“It’s just a question,” she said dispassionately.

“The answer is no.” I stated with harsh finality.

“Why so hostile, Ben?”

“Because even if I did, it’s none of your business.”

“I see.”

She watched me with cold, unfeeling eyes as the silence grew deafening. I returned my gaze to the window and the trees outside. When I could stand it no longer, I stood and walked around the small room, feeling Dr. Brittain’s eyes on me the whole time. On a shelf I saw a series of pictures exhibiting the doctor and different people, some of them obviously her family.

Near the center was a smaller picture of Dr. Brittain and a group of friends at a softball game standing in the infield. They were good friends judging by their arms around each others’ shoulders and the broad smiles they all wore. Another picture was of her and another woman I recognized from the softball picture. It was a professional portrait. The other woman stood behind the doctor and rested her hands on the doc’s shoulder. A large picture of her parents and a woman who must be her sister stood in one corner of the shelf. A picture of the sister and her family: a husband and two boys in their early years, stood opposite of the family portrait. They looked so happy in that picture. It looked like they had what I wanted my family to be. They even had their second boy.

As I observed the photographs, I said, “I don’t trust you. I don’t know what you’ll tell my mom and dad, so I can’t tell you anything even if I wanted to.”

“What I will tell your parents is your general state of mental health, your feelings in general, and if there is any chance you will hurt yourself. I may talk about specifics that pertain directly to how you feel about your mom and dad, but anything else that is said stays between us.”

I continued to gaze at the photograph with the two young boys. One was maybe six and the other might have been four.

“Is there something you wanted to tell me, Ben?” Dr. Brittain asked.

I had to grin as I noticed the younger of the two boys had poked the older in the side, which would account for the slight grimace of pain in the larger child’s expression. I was reminded of Ian and Rayray, but a stray thought of my twin erased my smile in an instant.

“No. Not right now. I’m not ready,” I softly replied.

“That is okay, Ben. There may come a time when you will trust me enough to let me in. I can wait.”

I cast her a curious glance and was surprised to see a slight smile on her face.

“Maybe,” I agreed.

Time would tell.

I sat in the lobby of the doctor’s office while the shrink debriefed my parents. When they came out, they both looked troubled.

“Come on, son,” my father said quietly. “Let’s head home.”

As he drove us through town toward our neighborhood, thoughts of Mikey kept intruding. The heartache grew for several miles until I couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Can we go see Mike?” I pleaded with them. “Please?”

The fact that I was begging was not lost on my parents. They glanced at one another and I saw my dad shrug. He took the next right and headed south on Fir Avenue until we reached Eleventh Street, where we turned right. A half-mile later, dad turned into Legion Cemetery.

Mike had been laid to rest in the rear of the cemetery and to the right of the entrance. The car stopped about twenty yards from the pavement that criss-crossed the cemetery, providing access to the various areas. I got out of the car and walked unerringly to my brother’s grave. I was fairly certain I had been here more often than my parents had combined.

I knelt before the headstone and traced Mike’s name engraved in the cold marble. A single tear fell from my eye and struck the polished surface of the stone.

Hello, Benji.

“Hi, Mikey,” I said in a whisper.

You’re sad. Why?

“I miss you.”

I miss you, too.

“Everything is all screwed up, and I don’t know what to do.”

Do the best you can, Ben, just like you always do.

“I’ve tried my best to help, but my best isn’t good enough.”

Your best is all you can do.

“I can’t fix it.”

You aren’t supposed to fix anything, Benji. You’re supposed to be a kid. Take care of yourself, and let mom and dad worry about the rest.

“I don’t think they can fix it either.”

You don’t know that for sure. Neither do they. You have to give them the chance to see.

“I know they’re trying, but it doesn’t seem like it’s getting any better.

Everything takes time, Ben.

“I’m scared, Mike. I’m scared that mom and dad are going to split up.”

You can’t control what will happen, Ben. They both love you, regardless of what happens.

“I know they love me, but if they get a divorce, what will happen to me?”

My mother’s voice startled me enough to cause me to jump. She knelt down next to me as she started to speak.

“Ben, your dad and I are working to make things better,” she said, placing her arm around my shoulder.

It was all I could do not to break down at her touch.

“We see a counselor on Friday night, son,” dad said, kneeling on my other side. “I’m also going to meetings to help me stop drinking. I go every day during lunch. We’re really, really trying, Ben.”

“Then what about the yelling?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “I still hear you. I know you still blame me.”

Dad sighed, “I know in my heart and in my head that you aren’t responsible, Ben, but you were there. It feels like…”

“I should be dead and Mike should be here?” I asked in an emotionless voice.

“No!” My father barked, and then continued in a softer voice. “Never that. Ben, if you had died instead of Mike, I would feel the exact same way. I love you, Benjamin, and I always will.

“I don’t know if I can explain it so you can understand, Ben. No parent ever wants to bury a child. It’s… Ben, you and Mike looked so much alike we had trouble telling you apart. It’s hard to keep being reminded that he’s not here. It’s very hard because I still see you and think you’re Mike. Are you understanding any of this?”

I held my emotions under rigid control. My father’s words frightened me. What was he saying? That he didn’t want me to be around because I looked like my brother and kept reminding him of what he lost? That I wasn’t good enough for him?

You’re being stupid again, Benji.

I replied, “No, I’m not.”

Yes you are! You’re trying to convince yourself that he doesn’t love you when you know he does!

“Ben,” My mom said softly, “Your father isn’t saying that he wishes you and Mike would have traded places. Part of what caused my problem was you wearing your brother’s clothing. I thought you were Mike every time I saw you. That is what your father is trying to tell you. He loves, you, Ben.”

“How do I know that?” I fired back.

Because he’s trying to make things better.

“Because he’s trying to make things better.”

I felt like I had been hit by both barrels of an over-and-under shotgun. Mike and my mother had ganged up on me. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my eyes of the tears that had suddenly appeared.

I looked at my father for the first time since I’d stepped out of the car. His eyes mirrored mine down to the last drop.

“Ben, I love you. I don’t know what else I can do to prove it to you, son. I promise you that no matter what happens between me and your mother, I will still love you.” A catch formed in his voice. “Please, Ben. Please believe me. I don’t want to lose you too. I can’t lose you too.”

Tears fell from his eyes, running down his cheeks. For the second time in less than a week, my father was crying, begging me to love him back. How could I turn my back on him when we needed each other so much?

“Dad…”

I fell into his arms, and we wept together.