“What’s Jason going to do after he graduates?”
“Play pro. He’s got scouts from New Orleans, San Francisco, New York, Kansas City, and Dallas looking at him.” I frowned, knowing there was one more he’d told me about. “Oh, and the Patriots, that’s the other one. New England.”
Nell seemed shocked. “He’s really getting scouted by the NFL?”
I blinked at her. “Nell, he holds national receiving records on both the high school and university level. He’s one of the best players in the NCAA, and he thinks he’s got a chance at a first-round draft pick.” I’d learned a lot about football over the years I’d been with Jason.
Nell, not so much. “Is that good? The first-round thing?”
I snickered. “Yeah, it’s good. It means he’d be one of the first people chosen to play for their team. The draft thing is complicated, and I really don’t get it all, but being first-round draft pick is a big deal.”
“So he’s really good.”
“He’s f**king amazing.” I was proud of my man.
Nell laughed at my vehemence. “Well, then.” She sighed and leaned in for a hug. “I should go, Becks.”
I pulled her against me, holding her hard. “I’ll miss you. Even if you’re all the way in New York performing, you can still call your BFF, right?” I shook her playfully. “We’re kind of fighting, you know. I can’t believe you play the guitar and I didn’t know.”
She shook me back. “Nobody knows. It’s not a secret—it’s just something I do for me, because it helps me cope. I can play and sing and not think and put all my emotions into that instead of needing to get it out…some other way.”
I hugged her and watched her drive away, knowing it would be months before I saw her again.
* * *
Becca
April 9th
I yelled a hello into my parents’ house and received silence in reply.
Since Jason and I lived in an apartment now, we weren’t going home for the summer after finals but were finding jobs to supplement our savings for our senior year. For Jason, it was a second job, and for me, it was something other than tutoring, since the program wouldn’t really need me in the summer. I’d settled on answering phones at a local law office, which was boring as hell but paid enough to be worth it. Jason was still looking, but had a line on a position with a landscaping company.
I poked my head into Father’s office, found it empty, and Mom’s as well. This wasn’t surprising, since they both often worked late. Ben should be home, though; his car was in the driveway. He’d moved back in with our parents after he’d lost the apartment, and I’d heard from Kate that they’d been trying to work things out, but it wasn’t going so well. She was worried about him again, since she hadn’t heard from him in several hours. He was still working at Belle Tire, but he’d resigned his position as assistant manager, going back to changing oil since it was less responsibility. A wise decision, I thought. The problem was, I had called Belle Tire before swinging by the house. He hadn’t shown up for his shift at nine that morning, and it was three in the afternoon. Kate had sent me a text asking me to look at my parents’ house for him
Cool conditioned air washed over me, and I heard the faint tick-tock-tick-tock of the grandfather clock in the den. My skin crawled, but I couldn’t identify the reason. Nothing was out of place. The kitchen was spotless, nothing was missing, the front door had been locked, and the patio and garage doors were locked as well. I licked my lips and tried to calm my breathing as I searched the main floor, finding everything in place. I made my way up the stairs, avoiding the creaking tenth step by habit. The door to my old bedroom was closed, and I went in. My old bed was there, made, an old quilt laid across it since I’d taken my favorite set of sheets and blankets with me to college. My dresser, now bare of knickknacks, and the desk, empty but for a Starbucks mug full of pencils and pens. The closet was closed, empty upon checking. No posters anymore, no pictures, nothing. No Ben, either.
I checked my parents’ room, which felt odd. I’d only been in there a handful of times in my life; their bedroom was a sanctuary, by unspoken rule. You just stayed out. My father’s slippers were, ridiculously enough, in the classic TV dad position at the side of the bed, neatly aligned. My mom’s blue terrycloth robe was slung over the back of her antique rocking chair. The rocker was a family heirloom shipped over from Lebanon for my mother’s fortieth birthday a few years ago.
The last place to check, of course, was Ben’s room. My dread increased to a palpable sense of stomach-knotting fear, my heart hammering, my hands trembling, my breathing coming in ragged gasps. I put my hand on the cold silver knob, twisted, and pushed…
The room was empty. It was also spotless, the bed neatly made, nothing out place, which was unlike Ben, who was a bit of slob. I don’t think his room had ever been this clean. Posters of rappers papered the walls, along with Sports Illustrated and Playboy centerfolds. A rack of CDs covered one entire wall, each jewel case aligned the same way, writing facing the left. It even smelled clean, and Ben’s room had always smelled, even through a closed door, of patchouli incense, which he used to cover the stench of his pot. The only sign of life was the open window I’d once escaped through to see Jason. A warm breeze blew, rippling the curtains.
There was a single sheet of notebook paper aligned square on the top of his dresser. I shook my head at the paper, denying even before I’d read it.
Becca,
I’m guessing you’re the one who’ll find this. I’m sorry. You’re honestly the only reason I didn’t do this a long time ago. I didn’t want to let you down. You always believed in me when no else did. It’s just not enough anymore. I don’t have much to say to Mom and Dad, except I wish you’d tried harder with me. Loved me as I was, instead of judging me and trying to fix me, and then just giving up on me. I’m sorry to everyone. I’m sorry, most of all, to Kate. I don’t deserve her, I never did and never could. I let her down, time and again, and I just can’t keep failing her. She needs someone better than me. Now she can find him. I do love her, but it’s not enough.
Goodbye.
Benjamin
P.S. Becca, you remember the tree? That’s where I’ll be.
I touched the paper, and the ink smeared on my fingers. I felt a bolt of hope at the sight of the smeared ink. If the ink wasn’t dry yet, maybe there was still time. The tree. God, the tree. Our house was at the far edge of the subdivision and backed up to acres of open land, part forest, part scrub, part endless grass fields. About a mile from our back door was a mammoth pine tree with straight, low-hanging branches, the lowest one just out of reach. We used to play beneath that tree for hours. Then, when Ben got older and his bipolar mood swings took hold, he would go out to the tree and get away from everything. He claimed he could feel whatever he wanted beneath that tree, instead of feeling like his moods needed adjustment. That’s where he’d go when he wanted to get stoned, too, until he realized our parents were either oblivious or were playing blind.