Remember My Name (26 page)

Jackson

“I’m going for a run before
I shower,” Ben says, waiting until I nod before he pulls on a pair of
basketball shorts and leaves me sitting silently on the bed. I listen as he
patters down the stairs. He still wears my shoes every time he runs, but it
doesn’t really bother me anymore. Definitely not as much as the wretched
screech of the screen door slamming behind him. It must be the worst sound on the
planet.

Restlessness steals over me.
I don’t want to go for a run or anything, God forbid. That’s Ben’s thing
anyway. But I do want to get out of the house.

Matt’s truck is pulling into
the driveway just as I let myself outside. I stare as he gets out. “Hi,
Jackson,” he says, strings of nervousness pulling at his voice as though it
were controlled by an amateur puppeteer.

Any remaining indecision of
how I should feel at seeing him is obliterated by his unease. He’s worried
about what I’m going to say. “Haven’t heard from you in a while,” he says,
revealing the edge of his lip that still has a dark red slit where Ben hit him
the other day.

“I haven’t heard from you,
either.”

Matt looks uncomfortable. “I
was going to call, but I figured I’d do this in person. I don’t know if we’re
really together or not, but in case you think we are, I’m breaking up with
you.”

I feel like he’s just
punched me in the stomach. It’s not like I didn’t know this was coming or that
it didn’t need to happen, but I expected it to be less, well, unexpected. “Just
like that? You realized that you can’t fuck me, so now you’re out?”

“Look, Jackson,” he says,
gesturing like he’s trying to let me down easy. “You’re really nice, and you’re
cute, but we’re not a good match.”

Cold determination emboldens
me as I glare at him. “I hate the way you treated me, but that’s the biggest
load of lies I’ve heard in a long time. We had a great time together, and you
know it. At least man up and tell the truth.”

He looks conflicted, then he
just shrugs. “Oh, what the hell. You’re right. I had a great time, but it can’t
work. I should never have gone along with this, because I’ve got a great guy
waiting for me back East.”

Rage seeps into my blood
like poison to a well, pushing me to seek answers when I shouldn’t. “You what?”
I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Sorry, man. I tried to keep
my distance in the beginning, but you’re persistent. And hot. I was hoping that
after we fooled around a few times, it would fizzle out. But it just got more
intense.” He sighs. “I figured if we had sex and you didn’t have a good time
that you’d decide we weren’t compatible and want to break it off.”

I wish Ben were here. Then
he could do what I don’t have the strength to. It’s not really Matt I’m looking
at. It’s not the guy that Ben and I hung out with this summer. Definitely not
the guy who came after me the night of the Fourth. Instead, it’s just some punk
who hurt me
.
Hurt me in a way that can’t just be forgotten. The kind of
hurt that doesn’t heal cleanly but scars.

“Just go,” I breathe,
turning back toward the house. My footsteps feel heavy as I move away from him.
Still heavy as my fingers grapple with the latch on the screen door. Heavier
yet as I stumble into the kitchen, thankful at least that Dad isn’t here.

*     *     *    
*

Legs crossed, I’m sitting on
the stone in the woods. The place that always used to bring me comfort now only
stares in silence at the shattered pieces of my insides. With the funeral and
Ben attacking Matt, it was almost possible to forget what happened last week.
But even if Matt hadn’t shown up tonight, the minutes and the quiet of this
place would have brought it all back.

I’m still sore – both
from what Matt did and when Ben held on to me so tight that day. By far though,
the agony inside far outdoes my physical pains.

I made only one stop before
fleeing the house. Across my palm I roll the mostly-full bottle of Glenlivet
21-year-old stolen from Dad’s private stash. I’ve never taken anything like
this before. I was always too scared.

The one time I really defied
him, he threw me across the kitchen and my hand almost got sliced off. The
second time was last week, when I told him I liked guys. That one has yet to
come back to me in full, but I figure it will. Taking us to the hospital for
Ben’s bruised ribs wasn’t about me or Ben at all. It was about him. About his
need to punish me for what I’ve done. He’s too smart to just – I don’t
know – hit me. But that doesn’t mean that he isn’t waiting for an
opportunity, because I don’t believe for a second that he’s letting this slide.
If he waits long enough, eventually he’ll find one.

So why steal the whiskey?
Especially this bottle. It’s probably the most expensive of all of them. I have
no idea what he’s been saving it for. It was already opened, but I know it’s
being saved. Whiskey doesn’t go bad. I roll the bottle back across my palm. I
didn’t actually mean to pick this one in particular, but I do know why I
brought it here.

Something about choosing the
impetus that finally brings Dad’s wrath down on me makes me feel like I can
still control something. It’s not much, but for a summer that has wrenched
itself away from me, it’s something at least.

I twist off the top of the
whiskey. Catching a whiff of the intense, spicy scent, I raise the bottle and
take a drink. A stitch of revulsion touches the back of my throat as the liquid
slides down. Breathing out through my nose, I feel the warm coolness of
evaporating alcohol in my sinuses. I take another swig, leaving the bottle to
my lips a little longer this time.

I know that what I’m doing
is fucked up. Drinking by myself… and why? Just because I need a distraction
right now? Maybe, but it’s more than that too. The last couple weeks have been
such a mess, and all I really want right now is
not
to feel.

I don’t see Ben walking
toward me until he’s almost right next to me. Adrenaline hits my veins the
moment our eyes meet. Feeling more exposed now than when he caught me jerking
off, I set down the bottle beside me, hoping to God that he won’t lecture me.
Not that I don’t deserve one, but I just don’t want to think about Ben right
now, which is a hell of a lot easier when he’s not standing in front of me.

He hops up onto the rock and
sits down. He’s still wearing the clothes he ran in, including my shoes.
“Jackson,” he says, concern filling his voice. “What are you doing?”

Sweat mingles with the fine
hairs on the back of his neck, giving him an air of athleticism that I admire.
Looking away, I take another drink and he makes no move to stop me. Instead, he
puts his hand on my knee. I want to tell him how much I need him, but all I
have is pent up anger, undiminished by all those times I hit him. I shift my
leg so his hand falls.

I lift the bottle again, but
this time he sets his hand on top of mine. “Jackson, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Take your pick,” I say
bitterly. Ben gives me a helpless look, probably because he has no idea what to
say. “Matt stopped by while you were running,” I state. “He told me he has a
boyfriend back at college and I was just his summer fuck or whatever.”

Without even a hint of
surprise, Ben whispers icily, “I’m going to kill him.”

“You knew?” The weakness in
my voice warns of tears like distant storm clouds herald the rain.

Following a long sigh, he
admits, “He told me at Cherie’s funeral. That’s why I started beating his face
in.” Scooting closer, he puts his arm around my shoulder. “You’re going to get
through this,” he whispers.

Am I really? It makes sense
in theory, but I don’t know what that could actually look like. I feel like
between Matt, Dad, and Ben, a huge crater has been blown in my life. And yeah,
Ben is responsible too. “You left,” I say. The words are simple, but saying
them gives me a sense of power. My fingers tingle with the rush of alcohol.
“You left me.”

 “That’s what this is
about?” He releases his grip on my hand and the bottle. “I mean,” he clarifies,
“not like this moment, but this whole summer. The reason you never let me get
close was because Mom and I moved away?”

Anger flares within me once
more. “How can you act like it wasn’t a big deal? Like it wasn’t the biggest
deal of our entire lives?” I try to glare, but I’m pretty sure it just comes
out soaked with sadness. “I missed you so much. I never wanted you to leave,
but you left anyway.”

Ben shakes his head quickly.
“That’s not what I meant. I know it was the biggest thing that ever happened to
us.” His voice lowers. “The
worst
thing that ever happened to us. But
that’s exactly what it was. It happened
to
us. I didn’t choose to leave
any more than you chose to stay.”

“That’s not true,” I shoot
back, tasting the whiskey on my tongue in more ways than one. “You chose to
leave. I know you did because Dad
told
me years ago. God I wish he
wouldn’t have, but I know and I can’t change that. But you know what? After all
this time, it was almost okay. Except now that you’re back, everything has gone
to shit. Dad won’t even look at me anymore, everything is fucked up with Matt,
and most of the time I feel like we’re not even brothers anymore.” I take a
deep breath. “You left me, and I wish you had just stayed away.” My voice
breaks.

Ben takes a deep breath. “I
don’t know what Dad told you, but there’s more to it than that.”

“What do you mean?” He would
have to be pretty ballsy to lie to me right now.

“Before I knew about the
divorce, Mom asked me what I thought about if she and I went on a trip, a
longer trip for just the two of us. She asked if I’d like that.” He pauses.
“And I told her yes.”

Above us, the leaves tap
against one another, rustling to tell us of a change in the air. High summer
has just shifted into late summer. I’ve always loved the way the wind rushes
through the trees here. It’s reliable, and it’s strong, and it always has
something to say.

“Jackson,” he says. “Say
something.”

If only the wind could speak
for me. “What do you want me to say? You left.”

His eyes drop to the hard
stone beneath us. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t realize what I was agreeing
to. Their divorce was really fucked up. I don’t know exactly what happened, but
by the end, Mom was ready to do anything to get out of here. She wanted to take
both of us with her, but Dad threatened to drag everything out in court if he
didn’t get to keep one of us. She didn’t have the money for that, and she was
set on getting the hell out of Minnesota. So she gave in.”

I swallow hard. That story
sounds a lot different than what Dad told me, but I’m afraid of what that
means. Everything he told me about Mom and the divorce… was it really all a
lie? My voice is tight as I ask, “Why did you agree to leave at all? You could
have said no.”

He’s quiet for several
seconds, and silence consumes the space between us. “Because of you,” he says
softly, the corner of his mouth turning upward. “Because you were always so
confident and independent. Everything you did was cooler and better than what I
could do. I wanted to have a chance to see what I could be without you. For
once I wanted to be able to come back and impress
you
with something.”

He sucks in a breath to
continue his monologue, “But hell no did I ever think it was going to be
permanent. By the time I figured it out, we were already living on the other
side of the country. Once I knew, I hated it just as much as you did. I
begged
Mom to let me come back, but she didn’t want to lose me, just as much as I
didn’t want to lose you.” An irritated look appears on his face. “I wanted to
stay in contact. I called you, I tried to get you to visit, or to visit you,
but you never wanted that. If you were so hung up about me leaving, why did you
push me away?”

“I was so angry that you
left. Even more so when I found out that you’d done it voluntarily. I’ve been
mad for so long that I couldn’t stop feeling that way.” My eyes wander away
from Ben, getting lost in the sprawling acres of wheat. “I guess I wanted you
to feel abandoned like I did.”

“That’s really shitty,
Jackson.”

Wringing my hands together,
I whisper, “I know.”

“Don’t ever do that again.”

I meet his gaze. “I won’t.”

We stare at each other for a
long time. Finally Ben breaks the silence. “Now tell me what the hell you’re
doing out here with a bottle of Dad’s…” He picks up the bottle. “Oh shit,
Jackson, this stuff is expensive. Do you know what this is?”

I nod. “I know.”

“What were you thinking?” he
asks in disbelief. “Dad’s going to... damn, I don’t know what he’ll do.”

“Kick me out? Because that
wouldn’t be the worst thing. I hate it here.”

Ben laughs nervously. “Don’t
joke about that.”

I scan the edge of the trees
ringing the clearing. The leaves catch the wind a few seconds before it blows
over us, bringing a welcome relief from the day’s heat. Evening is already
pressing down on us, and it’ll be dark soon. “It would be so easy,” I whisper.
“I could run, just run away and never come back. Leave him and everyone else
behind.”