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"Whatever. Are you coming to dinner?" Mikaela repeats.
"I'll be there."
Although I feel like once I'm there, I won't want to be.
The rest of my shift, I catch Regina a few more times looking like she did when the customer was here, in a bit of a trance, staring out the window. I wonder if his words are still running through her mind as much are they are in mine. I wonder if, maybe, she actually does know the truth, but just can’t admit it to herself. Can’t admit that Ben was someone she didn’t quite know.
There’s not a trace of that though when I show up to their house for dinner. Regina’s smile beams as she listens to Denise tell a story about Ben. I was right though. I don't want to be here, even if I can laugh along like I want to be.
"Wait, wait." Denise pants from laughing so hard. "Do you remember the time Ben got in trouble for putting sand all over the wrestling mats the day of the regional meet? All the wrestlers kept complaining that they were getting sand in their leotards."
"I don't think they're called leotards." Mikaela snickers.
"Whatever they're called, they had sand in them. In every nook and cranny."
"He got suspended for a week." Regina shakes her head, smiling. "I yelled at him for an hour, and he couldn't even keep a straight face while I was telling him to grow up."
They all turn and look at me, wanting me to join in, to expand on the story. I was there after all, got suspended with him for our little prank. But I can't speak. Because I remember it all very differently. I only went with Ben to do the prank because I could see that another one of his really bad episodes was coming. It always begun with him having a day where he would go against every teacher, making trouble for himself wherever he could. I thought if I stayed with him, even knowing I would get in major trouble with my grandma, then maybe this prank would be a pick-me-up. It was, for the few hours it took us to pour sand all over the mats and floors around them.
But then we were home alone, suspended for five days. Ben spent almost every minute of every day under his blanket, stare blank, barely mumbling a word, asking me what he had to live for. Asking me why he always had to be the one to endure, to struggle just to want to live, to bear what he felt like was a broken soul. I made sure he ate something. Made sure he didn't follow through with his thoughts of swallowing all the pills in the bathroom or dragging a knife across his wrists. I made sure that his mother didn't come home to a dead son.
So I remain silent because I have no merriment to add to this untrue story. It wasn't just another prank of a boy who liked trouble. It was another sign that he was a troubled boy.
But still they stare at me, waiting for me to fill in shoes I never asked to. Wanting me to do what Ben would and make the story even better, with another joke, with an even bigger story of something he’d done.
"Yeah, I remember that." It's all I can offer.
And their disappointment is clear. Denise leans back in her seat, giving a look to her mother and sister, as if to say he's no Ben. If only they would actually realize that.
"The school finally returned the tuition payment," Regina says. "Took them long enough. Especially since they're at fault for what happened to my boy."
"Mom," Mikaela grumbles.
"They are." Regina insists. "That door to the roof was supposed to be locked. If Ben hadn't been able to get up there, he would've have fallen. He'd be here right now."
Her voice raises on the last part, and I have to look away. My legs inch to stand and walk out of this room, to distance myself from the lies they tell themselves to provide their hearts with some type of comfort. But I know, if it hadn't been the roof, it would have been something else.
"I still have half a mind to sue them for wrongful death," Regina continues.
"There's no way to prove what happened up there, Mom." Denise adds, voice low, because we all know she's treading on dangerous ground.
Regina narrows her eyes at her. "What are you saying? You believe the police telling us that he meant to jump?"
"No, I just..."
Regina cuts her off. "He was drunk and went up to the roof and fell. That's all. If the damn door had been locked, he wouldn't have been able to go up there, and he'd still be here now, sitting at this table. He didn’t jump. He had no reason to. He had a great life, was popular, had girlfriends, a great family. What possible reason would he have had to kill himself? Hmm? Tell me?"
Regina's shouting now, and Denise and Mikaela share a worried look. Mikaela discreetly shakes her head, and Denise remains silent. Then, like I feared when this conversation started, Regina's eyes come to me, a question there, a plea for me to say she's right, to agree. When I don't say anything, her eyes harden, and I know what’s coming next. I’ve dreaded it.
"And where were you Elijah?" she asks the question she never has since the night she lost her son.
The croak in her voice though, tells me she's wondered it many times.
"In my dorm room," I answer.
"You were always with him, always right there. But that night, he was alone and look at what it cost him."
"Mom, that's not fair," Mikaela is quick to say but the damage is done.
