Beautiful Sorrows (16 page)

—

She didn’t make the next two meetings. But she had left a note taped to the underside of the bench. He’d waited quietly for her, and then dropped to his hands and knees, looking for something that might explain her absence. The note led him on a scavenger hunt, and at the end he opened a present wrapped in red paper. There was a new pair of sneakers inside. Angelica had drawn a heart on the underside of each tongue. This made Ben feel pretty good.

—

“What are you good at, Ben?” she asked him one day. He wasn’t sure what to say.

“Math, I guess. And I like taking things apart. I like seeing how they work, and putting them back together.”

“Like cars and stuff?”

He shrugged. “Sure. I work on cars.”

The winter had ended, and spring bathed the park in flowers. Angelica wore a simple white daisy in her hair. Ben wondered if her husband had given it to her.

Angelica turned to face him, her eyes wide. She gripped his hands, and he was shocked at how cold they were. He rubbed them to warm them. It felt natural.

“We’re moving,” she said.

Ben’s hands stopped mid-rub. “What?”

Angelica’s pink mouth trembled at the corners. “We’re moving. Soon. In about a month.”

“Where?”

“Michigan.”

He started to ask why, but it didn’t matter. How could she leave him like that? Was this hard for her?

“Are you going to miss me at all?” he asked.

Her eyes brightened. “I’m going to die without you,” she said. Ben was pleased.

“Where are you in school?” she asked.

Ben reeled at the change of subject. “Uh, one more year. I’m a junior.”

A junior. And she was an adult. With a husband, a husband whose name she wouldn’t tell him, who was taking her somewhere far away. And he was still in high school, eating lunch in the cafeteria and learning about biology. Pathetic.

“Move with me, Ben. Finish your senior year in Michigan.”

He stared at her. She stared back.

“You want me to come with you?”

“I’ve thought it all out! You’ll transfer to a different school. Or you can get your GED with night classes.”

“You want me to drop out of school?”

She was getting angry now. “No! I said get your GED! You could be a mechanic, Ben. You like cars. There are classes that will show you how to...I’ll pay. I’ll pay the deposit on your apartment, and for your mechanic courses. I can’t live without you, don’t you understand? If you don’t come with me, I don’t know what I’ll do!”

She was crying again, but he was too numb to effectively calm her.

“But my mom—” he began. Angelica stood up and ran away. It wouldn’t be the last time, but it was certainly the first, and it hit him like a punch to the gut. She ran. She ran. This could be the last time that he saw her. Ever.

He stood up. “I’ll do it!” he screamed. His family, his senior year, it didn’t matter. Angelica mattered. Being her Big Ben mattered. He’d work as a mechanic during the day and throw his greasy arms around her every night, if that’s what she wanted. He’d do it. He’d do anything.

—

His mother didn’t understand.

“Why would you want to move all the way to Michigan? What could possibly be out there for you?”

“I want to try something different, Ma. I’m bored here.”

“You wouldn’t be bored if you did a few more chores.”

This was a lie. Ben was becoming a man, and men didn’t neglect the things that needed doing around the house. He had checked a book out of the library on home repairs. He’d fixed the leaky toilet and then put the closet doors back on their tracks. His mother had been very pleased.

But she sure wasn’t pleased now. “And dropping out of school? Are you crazy?”

“Ma, technically it isn’t dropping out. I’d get—”

She wouldn’t be dissuaded. “You think you’re going to get out to some new town, get all settled in, and decide to start going back to school? Think you can handle a job and school at the same time? It’s not going to happen, Ben. In fact—” Her eyes widened in horror. “This isn’t about a girl, now, is it? Is some girl going to Michigan? Is that what happened?”

Ben’s ears reddened. “Mom, it doesn’t have anything to do—”

She said that she didn’t believe him, that Ben was a terrible liar. And she told him that he had always been a terrible son. A selfish, lazy thing who spent all of his time wandering around at the park when he should have been home helping his hardworking mother. A dimwitted boy who thought more about some girl than he did his own family...

Ben’s intention had been to move to Lowell, Michigan, a month or two after Angelica did. As it happened, he moved out that very night. He didn’t have a choice.

—

“What have I done to you?” Angelica asked him. Her lips trembled, but Ben didn’t look away.

“You haven’t done a thing to me, Ang. You make me happy.”

“What kind of happiness can you have?”
With me.
He heard the words although she didn’t speak them.

“What kind of happiness could I have without you?”

She closed her eyes, leaned her head against his shoulder, and cried. His coat dampened with her tears, but instead of irritating or embarrassing him, it made him feel stalwart and useful. Caring. Her good, confident Ben.

“I hate this town, Ben. I hate it so much! And you shouldn’t be here. You should be in school, and dating...dating girls...” Her pretty mouth twisted around the words, and this, too, made Ben happy.

“Do you wish that I hadn’t come after you?” he asked. His eyes were following a bird as it flew high above the park. Their new park. It seemed they were forever destined to sit companionably side by side on sleepy park benches.

“Yes. No. I’m glad, but only for my sake. I’m selfish, and I want you here for me, for my sake, but for you...”

He wanted to kiss her. In any other world that would be the correct thing to do. He’d take her in his arms and kiss her doubts away. He’d kiss his soul into hers. He’d kiss her husband out of their lives.

But no. There were rules. No kissing and no “I love yous,” and never knowing her husband’s name. He mustn’t follow her home. She wouldn’t give him her phone number. They communicated through hidden notes in trees like children, and occasionally a short “Meet me tomorrow” phone call that she’d make. It was like a game. It was playing house. It was capture the flag.

“Do you want to?” she asked him. Ben was caught off guard.

“Do I want to what?”

“Date other girls. Because you can. If you want to.”

It was a test. She was testing him. She was trying to keep her voice steady, but she wasn’t doing a very good job of it. She was staring at the tiny nick on his face where he had cut himself shaving because she couldn’t look him directly in the eyes. Ben was picking up on this sort of thing.

He put his arms around her, liking the way that she folded into them. He kissed her hair.

“I told you never to kiss me,” she said. Her voice was muffled by his coat.

“I’m not kissing you. This isn’t real.” He kissed her hair again and rested his cheek on the top of her head. “I don’t want other girls, okay? I want you. I only want you.” He glanced down at his watch. “I have to go to class. Are you going to be all right?”

She nodded, and he held her for a few extra seconds before he grudgingly pulled away. He smiled at her. She smiled back. All was right with the world.

—

He didn’t go to the GED ceremony. Angelica couldn’t come, naturally, and it was too expensive for his mother to fly out. But he received a pair of nice cufflinks in the mail, and his mother called him that night.

“Oh, honey, I’m so proud of you! You worked hard and finished up so quickly! Are you having a good time?”

Yes, it was good, it was lovely, and he was doing just fine. Yes, eating well enough. Yes, he had friends.

“Anybody special in your life?”

“Just you, Mom.”

The harsh words had long since been forgotten. Ben could see how his sudden desire to move had hurt her, could see that deep inside her body she was just a girl. Just like Angelica was a girl.

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, Benny.”

“Nobody calls me Benny anymore.”

“No, I suppose that they don’t.”

Ben saved up his money to buy a shirt nice enough to wear cufflinks with. He showed up at the park one day looking fine and dandy.

Angelica was sitting on a bench close to theirs, her head resting on the shoulder of another man.

Ben stood there awkwardly. He wanted to run. He wanted to knock the man over and steal Angelica away. Was he the husband? Another lover? Did she keep a stable of them?

He decided that continuing on would be less conspicuous than standing there, staring. He subtly summed up the fellow as he walked past. Neat, well dressed. About 40 or so, fairly grizzled. His arm fell about Angelica in a way that said possession. Ah, her husband.

You’ll never own her,
Ben thought, and nodded politely as he passed. Angelica’s husband nodded back. Angelica stared resolutely at the ground, but he saw her lips tighten slightly.

“You were nervous,” he said to her several weeks later. She hadn’t dared see him for that long.

“Extremely nervous. You have no idea how nervous. And you walked by like...didn’t it bother you at all?”

Ben almost laughed, but she wouldn’t like that. But he smiled, and he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to.

“I didn’t like seeing you with him. He looks too serious.”

She sighed. Ben had heard that sound many times, but it was uniquely hers. Her sound. When he’d think of her in the future, he’d think of that sigh and the things that it told him, when he was old enough to hear.

“He is very serious. But he’s a good man, and I won’t have you saying anything disparaging about him.”

Ben frowned. “When have I ever, Ang? I never have.” He stood up. “I have to go.”

She was surprised. He could read it on her face, in her eyes. She was hurt, too, and in a strange way it made him feel good. Little boys couldn’t hurt a woman, but a man could.

“So soon?” she asked him.

“I think it’s best.”

She reached her soft fingers toward him, but he hurried away. The steady thump of his boots were soothing. They reminded him of home.

—

Ben turned 21 in Oklahoma. His mother called and told him that she was proud of him, that she had always been proud of him. She reminded him how he had always loved a parade as a kid and used to follow the clowns down the street on his tricycle. She cried. She laughed. Her voice was wistful and soft and even a little angry by turns. She was alone. She was forgotten.