Page 64 of Limbo

I don’t argue with them deciding for me. I don’t even put up a fight when Benji leads me out of the house without either of us saying goodbye to Felicia or Jess. I just follow along like a catatonic puppy.

Within a few blocks, Jordan’s Jeep comes into view.

“We wouldn’t all fit on Johnny’s bike, and my car doesn’t do well over forty.”

We stop at the passenger side. I stare through the window, not making a move to get in.

“You have to let go, Calico,” Benji says.

My eyebrows pull in. “What?”

“Unless you know a very creative solution to how we are both getting in the car…” He lifts his hand, bringing mine with it. “I need my hand for a few seconds.”

I release the grip I unknowingly held on his hand this entire time. He waits for me to get in before he rushes around to the other side. While I buckle my seat belt, he digs around in the backseat.

“Here.” He lays a jacket in my lap.

Like a lovesick middle schooler, I smell Jordan’s coat, breathing him in. A move that doesn’t go unnoticed by Benji.

“Stubborn-ass people, man,” he says, pulling away from the curb.

He doesn’t push to talk. We ride in silence with the music playing in the background. I use the coat as a blanket and watch road signs out the window. I thought my mind would be replaying what had happened. Reliving it over and over again. But I just stare, a little number than usual. Like all the years spent burying these awful things has rewired my brain. I’ve trained myself to not only hide it all from other people, but also from myself. Experience the hurt and then hold it deep inside, pretending it’s not there until it becomes too much and threatens to destroy me again.

“My father manipulates me into visiting him.” The words rush out, and as soon as they do, I tense and peek over at Benji.

He stares straight ahead, his expression unchanged. “He sounds like a dick.”

I laugh, oddly relieved by his response. “You have no idea.”

“Want to talk about it?” he asks.

I don’t even need to think it over because, for the first time in my life, I really do.

Benji nods along, every now and then interjecting a muttered, “Jesus,” at something.

He develops a death grip on the steering wheel when I tell him about Jordan’s birthday and the last few weeks, and he officially loses his calm demeanor when I tell him about Tyler.

“You’re fucking kidding, right?” His fingers further tighten around the wheel. Even in the dark, I see his knuckles turning white. “You’re not going to tell anyone what that fucking prick tried to do to you?”

“There’s no point in telling Lauren what happened. My word against his would mean nothing to her. She’d call me a slut and accuse me of trying to fuck her boyfriend.”

“Johnny should have killed him.” He glances over and tugs Jordan’s coat over to cover up my arm. “We’re listening to some tunes now before I turn our asses around and finish the job.”

I sink back in the seat, and he cranks the volume. Music blares from the speakers, the world flashing by us out the window. After a while, he turns off the highway and stops for gas. When he gets in, he starts the engine, but we go nowhere. He fidgets a few seconds before he hits the knob to shut off the music.

“I call bullshit,” he says. He shifts to face me. “Don’t get me wrong. I think what you’re doing for your little brother and sister is admirable. Most people would just bail. And the second you decide on the route of patricide, I’m here to help, but you’re letting your old man win, and it’s bullshit.”

I turn toward him, not sure how to respond. Not that he gives me a chance.

“Right now, that piece of trash can tell you to be in a specific place at a specific time, but his control should end there. Instead, you’re giving him all this power over you and choosing not to fight for your own happiness.”

Benji’s intentions are pure, but he doesn’t understand. I’m tired of fighting against Graham. Tired of trying to keep him and Lauren from tainting everything around me. Tired of the emotional drain. Tired of wanting to escape my own life.

Just so fucking tired.

I stare down at the gearshift between us, not wanting to cry in front of him. “The worst part of my life can’t destroy the best parts if there aren’t any.”

He tips my chin up, so I look at him. “For starters, get rid of the absolutes. Life is hard enough without living it all or nothing. You need to blur the lines a little. Seek out those gray areas and let the positive dilute the negative.” He shrugs a little. “When it gets too dark, search for some damn stars, you know?”

---