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This is why I don’t do this. This is why I don’t allow myself to be distracted by smiles and kisses. This is why I don’t offer my heart. This is why I don’t let myself fall for anyone.
Diane seems satisfied with my promise that I’ll walk straight home and go right to bed. Ben says nothing and I do not look his way again. I can pretend he’s just part of the background. I can pretend that I don’t want to throw things at his head. I can pretend that my soul doesn’t ache.
I pretend this all the way home.
I pretend this when I tell my family I have a headache and need to lie down.
I pretend this until I am alone in my room with the door locked and the white noise of my sound machine turned up so that no one can hear me sobbing.
Then I cry myself to pieces on my pillow and wish to be divided from this frail, breakable thing that is my own heart.
Ben
“I’m not going to school today.”
My mother stops reaching for the kitchen cabinet where her favorite coffee mug lives. “What? Do you feel sick?”
“No.” I dump out the bowl of dry cornflakes because I’d been staring at it for fifteen minutes. “I’m just not going.”
“Ben, I don’t understand.” She’s got circles under her eyes and yesterday’s makeup still sticking to her skin. Her robe is a rose colored satin tent that’s frayed at the sleeves and has seen better days. Kind of like us.
“I need a day off. So I’m taking it.”
Her mouth opens and shuts. She’s struggling with the argument that I need to get my ass to school because I’m a kid and school is where I belong. Then she remembers that I’m not really a kid anymore and there’s no way to force me to go anywhere.
“All right.” She leans against the counter and stares down at her hands, which are red and calloused and self manicured with green sparkly nail polish that’s chipped at the edges.
As I wash the cereal bowl out I can feel her eyes on me. I hope I haven’t just set off an episode of worry and hand wringing. My head is full of my own problems today and I just don’t have the energy to handle hers.
A distinct thump echoes from down the hall, followed by feet shuffling toward the bathroom and then the clear noise of guttural spitting.
My fingers tighten so hard around the cereal bowl it’s a small miracle the cheap ceramic doesn’t break in half. “I didn’t know he was here.”
“Oh.” She’s instantly flustered, whipping her head around to glance down the dark hallway where her boyfriend is doing gross things in our only bathroom. “Yeah, Darren spent the night on the couch.”
She obviously thinks I’m an idiot. An idiot with no eyes. There was no one on the fucking couch when I passed through the living room a little while ago.
But for reasons unknown she wants me to like the bastard so she gives me a nervous smile and says, “It’s my day off and Darren’s going to take me Christmas shopping at the outlet mall in Pennington.”
She says this like she’s expecting a diamond ring out of the deal when in reality he’ll talk her into buying him something she can’t afford and then stick her with the lunch bill.
“You guys are taking his truck?” I ask.
She beams. “Yes, he said he’d drive.”
“Can I borrow your car then?”
“Why? I thought you didn’t feel well enough to go to school.”
“I just need to borrow it today.”
She frowns, processing the request. I make an effort not to sigh with frustration. It’s very rare that I ask to borrow her car. It’s rare that I ask her for a damn thing.
“Look, I’ll have it back in the carport this afternoon and I’ll top off the fuel tank, okay?”
Finally she nods. “All right. You can borrow the car, Ben. I’ll call your school and tell them you’re sick today so you don’t get in trouble.”
I don’t care if I get in trouble. And I don’t expect to accomplish anything by ditching. I just don’t feel like pretending to be Ben Beltran today.
