Page 10 of Born Into Trouble (Occupy Yourself)
Ben had smiled when he'd responded, “Well, yeah! He’s my big brother.”
“No shit?” Shaking his head in what looked like incredulity, Harddrive had put the truck in gear and pulled out. With a bag of fast food sitting on the bench seat between them, they'd motored out of town in a comfortable silence broken only by the old man asking for one of the sandwiches, then urging Ben to eat the rest. That soothing quiet lasted until they'd sat along the curb in front of his grandparents’ house, listening to the last growl of the truck’s engine die away.
Ben had turned to thank Harddrive only to meet an intent stare. His mouth, opened to offer his gratitude, snapped shut when the old man had started talking. “Few people get dealt fair hands in life. I know your brother, so I know all about the shit hand you got dealt. I also know your shit just got yards worse with him leaving town.” Ben had wondered how Harddrive knew this, and then belatedly put two-and-two together, realizing Andy had probably bought his bike from Harddrive’s shop.
“Andy didn’t share a lot, but I did me some pokin’ around. I’m old; I can do what the fuck I want, so I did. People look at me, see a harmless old man, they’ll talk to me. Found me some people, they talked. Didn’t like what I found out, dug a little deeper, tried to sort things as best I could for Andy. But Ben, I’m still going to do what I want, and that want right now is me needin’ to make sure you’re good when you plant a foot outside my truck.” The stare had intensified, and Ben had felt it raking through his head, stirring up the things he’d been able to put to bed for the day. Benita. The drinking. The drugs he knew he’d been given the previous night. The women she'd brought to him when he'd been so plastered that saying no hadn't been a real option.
Andy leaving. Their mom and all her problems. The fact that even after a decade of living with them, he still felt like an overnight guest in his grandparents’ house.
Feeling alone. His dad dying, the only real memories left of him tied up in Andy making sure everything was okay. All his life, Andy’d been there, making sure things were good, even when they were total and absolute shit.Until now.
All alone. Nearly a decade of feeling alone, since he was five and standing on the raw dirt surrounding a hole in the ground, knowing life would never be the same.
“Oh, son. You ain’t good, are you?” Those gentle words had pulled a sob out of Ben. With fumbling fingers, he'd reached for the door handle and flung it open. He'd jumped out, feeling cold gravel bite the bottom of his feet and then stood there a moment, looking in at an old man who had offered him nothing but kindness. An old man who'd made him feel like he belonged where he’d been today more than anyone in his life ever had, outside of Andy. “You need a place to rest your mind like you did today, you know where we are.”
That last bit of gentle was more than Benny could take so he'd slammed the door as tears spilled over his lids. Harddrive turned to face front, and the truck’s engine had roared before it pulled away from the curb, made a U-turn, and drove away, leaving Ben sobbing.
Benny gritted his teeth as he tried and failed to stop the flashbacks rolling through his head.Parties with Benita, her handing him a brimming glass of amber liquid, telling him to, “Drink up, Benny.” Upping the game when he'd found out he’d never play college ball, letting her show him how to roll a joint. Holding his hand out for more and stronger ways to forget. Unable to control his shaking hands, he could still maintain an erection for as long as she demanded. Fucking no longer enjoyable; with how Benita wanted it, sex had become his job in her bed. Waking in her bed, in her car, in the beds of her friends, some of the memories impossible to wipe away, while whole days were irrevocably missing in his mind. Coming to in strange hotel rooms, detritus of debauchery all around—hating himself more every time he allowed it to happen. Not knowing how to end things because she’d been guiding him for years. Benny without Benita? Impossible.
Music had saved him. Music and Harddrive had kept him from the edge of the precipice with their easy acceptance of who he was. Music didn’t care as long as he did what it demanded, playing or writing. Letting the beast inside him loose for a few minutes at a time, giving it room to breathe and grow. Harddrive checked in with him nearly as often as Andy did, listening for the things Benny didn’t say.
Frustrated, Benny gave up on the run, turning his feet back to the motel. Sweating heavily and panting for air, he swiped the keycard and leaned into the door, shoving the handle down to open it. Harddrive was a long time ago.Lotta miles under those wheels, he thought, and then his forward momentum halted in place as the light from the door illuminated Benita’s naked form. Straddling Danny, she looked over at Benny and smiled, never missing a bounce.Fuck.
Stuck in place for a moment, he was torn between turning on his heel to get the hell out of there and sinking to his ass in tears. Neither were real options. He didn’t have anywhere to go for the first, no escape for him. Ever. No schooling, no money, no job—all he had was the music, and to make the music, he needed Danny. Tears wouldn’t solve anything, wouldn’t change what he saw, what he heard, what he knew.
Without another glance at them, he stalked past and into the suspect safety of the bathroom. Through the closed door, he heard Benita’s invitation, taking only a split-second of “Hell no,” to turn her down. Shower on, he stepped under the spray, closing his mind to the questions and thoughts flooding through. He slid down the tiled wall, resting forehead to knees, finally taking option number two, but only because no one could hear him.
