The End of All Things Beautiful (15 page)

I slide over so I’m sitting as close to him as possible,
slipping my ice-cold hands up his shirt, he jumps and practically calls out in
shock.

“I need you to warm me up again, Benji,” I say seductively, my
hand sliding down his stomach and into the waistband of his jeans.

“Anything for you,” he murmurs, both of us eager now.

And I’m once again telling him to hurry, but this time, it’s not
because I’m freezing.

We walk in, both of us desperate for each other and I’m peeling
my clothes off as I make my way upstairs. Benji is behind me and when I look
back, he’s shirtless already. I can’t control the impulse I have to stop where
I am and forget the bedroom. I kick my pants off and as if Benji can see my
urgency, he loses his too. We meet halfway on the stairs and his mouth collides
with mine; both of us in need and I wonder if it will always be this way.

He’s standing on the stair below me, his mouth level with mine
and I can’t stop kissing him. This is the way we were meant to be and as he
takes me in his arms, I know there’s no place else I want to be. I want to be
with him forever. This is our second chance.

In his arms, Benji’s mouth on my neck, he walks us carefully up
the stairs and into the bedroom until I’m on the bed. I watch his beautiful
body cover mine and he silently enters me as I whisper, “Make love to me.” And
in the quiet stillness of the bedroom, dark and peaceful, he does just that.

The next morning comes far too soon and I know there’s no way I’m
going to get Benji to stay away from work for another day. He’s still asleep,
our arms and legs are tangled together and even though I’m warm, I can’t bring
myself to pull away from him. I also know I have to go back to Chicago
eventually. I can’t keep avoiding my life there; I told Jack it would be just a
few days I would be absent. I need to go back and break the news to him that I
won’t be coming back permanently.

I press my nose to Benji’s chest, taking in his smell as he
stirs in my arms.

“I love waking up with you in my bed,” he mumbles, still tired.

“I do too, but I hate to be the bearer of bad news. I really
have to go back to Chicago and talk with Jack, take care of everything.”

I still can’t believe I’m about to do this. Benji lives in the
middle of nowhere and I’m about to quit my job, rely solely on him for support,
and hope that nothing will go wrong.

Nothing will go wrong.

I need to stop being so pessimistic about life, about
everything. There’s a reason we found each other again. It was never over in
the first place. We were meant to be together.

“Can you at least give me until noon?” Benji asks, his words
pleading and I can’t say no to him. I’ve never been able to say no to him,
which is why I left all those years ago without telling him. “I’ll go to work
after you leave.”

“Okay,” I answer, and he pulls me closer to him. It hasn’t been
that long, only a few days, but I don’t know how I’m going to sleep at night
without him next to me. I’ve already grown used to the smell and the warmth of
his skin near me, soothing me and making me feel safe. I don’t want to leave.

“Anyway, you can’t leave yet, your coat is still wet and I’m
guessing it’s now smelly since we’ve left it in a heap on the floor.”

I laugh at him, knowing he’s just looking for an excuse to make
me stay.

“Fine, how about you go throw my coat in the washer and I’ll
make us some coffee?”

“No,” he responds immediately, and I push up on my elbow so I
can look at him. He’s smiling as he says, “I’ll go put your coat in the washer
and make the coffee. You stay here in my bed, naked and waiting for me.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I say, smiling back as I lean down and
kiss him.

 
I fall back on the
bed as I watch Benji pull on a pair of sweats and head downstairs. I listen to
his feet trudge down the stairs until he reaches the kitchen and starts the
coffee pot. I can’t imagine anything being as perfect as this moment.

A few minutes pass and he still hasn’t returned. I’m growing
anxious waiting for him and even though I told him I’d wait for him in bed, I
throw on his t-shirt, the smell covering me as I slip it over my head and make
my way downstairs.

“Benji,” I call out when I don’t find him in the kitchen, and I
get no response. I call again as I begin to search the house. Going toward the
back, I find him in the laundry room, my jacket in one hand and a piece of
paper in the other.

Tommy’s letter.

The moment I lay eyes on it, I stop breathing, my heart breaking
in my chest as I try to find the words to explain myself. And when I finally
tear my eyes away from his hand, I’m met with a look on his face that not only
says he’s confused but hurt and angry too. The letter is crumpled in his grasp,
his mouth set in a firm line as he looks at me with wide questioning eyes.

“What is this?” he asks, and I say nothing, just staring at him
wondering what to say, wondering how to explain myself, how to explain it all. “Campbell,
what the fuck is this?” he asks again, this time harsh and accusing.

“It’s a letter,” I say meekly, and it only adds to his anger.

“I can fucking see that!” he screams, and I startle at the tone
of his voice, all of this reminiscent of the accident, the way he spoke to me,
the way it made me feel back then.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Benji asks, but although his tone is
still laced with anger, I see the sadness in his eyes. I nod my head and he pulls
his hand through his hair as his chest heaves with each breath he takes. “We
said no more secrets. You kept this from me, Campbell.” The hurt seeps through
into his words as he clenches his teeth.

“I… I…” I can’t even begin to figure out where to start. It wasn’t
supposed to go down this way. I was going to tell him, but after everything we
had been through, I was struggling to break the news to him that someone else
died, that we’d lost someone else we both loved.

“Fuck!” he screams, and now I’m crying. “Say something,
Campbell.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” I sob. “I never wanted to hurt you…”

“It’s too late for that,” he says, my letter clutched in his
hand as he pushes past me. I reach out and he avoids me, moving farther away.

“Benji, please,” I beg and he says nothing, just disappears into
the other room. I follow him and when he turns around, he’s still furious with
me, but more than that he’s hurt by what I’ve done and what’s happened. We can’t
keep pushing each other away. We can’t keep running from this, but that’s
exactly what he does.

He’s pulling on a pair of boots and a sweatshirt that was left
on a chair as I try to figure out what to say next.

“I’m sorry,” I say, trying to keep my voice even, but the
shakiness and the worry come through. I can’t lose him again. This time it will
kill me.

“See, Campbell, you made me believe you came back because of us,
because you wanted what we used to have, that you loved me. And I fucking find
this.”

He holds up my letter, all tattered and taped back together. I
know how this looks to him and while Tommy’s letter was the catalyst I needed
to find Benji, it was not the reason I stayed or the reason I found myself
falling back in love with him. I’ve always loved him.

“Guilt made you come back. This fucking letter made you come
back,” he hisses and again the tears begin to fall.

“No,” I cry. “It wasn’t like that.” But right now, it doesn’t
matter what I say, he’s furious with me and I’m sure if I were in his
situation, I’d feel the same way: used, misled, and hurt.

He doesn’t give me an opportunity to explain, even though I feel
like after he told me he loved me, and knowing the way I feel about him, I
deserve his time, deserve to have him hear me out. Instead, he leaves out the
back door, and as I chase him outside, my feet bare, wearing just Benji’s
t-shirt, the snow and cold air stings my skin.

I stand, freezing, as I watch him turn around and glare at me. “I
can’t be here with you, Campbell,” he growls, and he gets in his truck and
drives away, leaving me brokenhearted and devastated.

I’m not sure what I expected to happen, but after everything
that went on between us over the last few days, I thought we would endure this
together, that we were over shutting each other out. This is the Benji I ran
from all those years ago and after letting him back in, I won’t make that
mistake again.

My chest aching and the tears pouring from my eyes, I head back
in and gather my things. I won’t be here to have him scream at me when he gets back.
This is why I stayed gone and why I shut everyone out. It left me emotionless
and right now, after what I’m feeling and what just happened, I regret ever
coming here.

I’m ready to go in just under a few minutes, tossing on my
clothes and shoving everything into my suitcase, but as I head to the front
door, everything in me is screaming to stay, but with my heart breaking, I
leave Benji a note.

B-

I love you. I’ve always loved you.

-C

I take my suitcase out to the car and as I’m putting it in my
trunk, Alex pulls in next to me. As he gets out of his car I mumble, “He’s not
here.”

“Is he at the shop?” he asks, clueless as to what has just
happened.

“No,” I answer sharply, and when he takes in my face, obvious I’ve
been crying, he stops in front of me.

“Campbell, what happened?” he asks, the concern flooding his
words.

“Nothing,” I answer back as I get in my car, my eyes falling to
Alex’s hand, a flash of white catching my gaze as I close the door and say
nothing more.

I can’t put myself through this again and although I’ve been
happier than I’ve been in years, this pain is more than I can handle. I need to
forget I ever came here, I need to forget Benji, but the stupid part of me
still loves him.

Too much.

And as I drive away, all I can think is maybe this is the end of
it all.

It’s after six when I finally arrive home, yet I still drive
straight to my office. It’s the one place where this life doesn’t exist and I
can lose myself in all the work that I know is waiting for me. It’s my
distraction and I need it in order to keep going.

Everything hurts as if I’ve been forced to run for days without
stopping. It hurts to breathe, my legs and arms aching as my chest feels tight,
like it’s closing in on me. It’s stifling and painful, and far too real for me
to focus on. I need it all to end.

I’m not sure what’s worse, my memories of the weeks after the
accident and my remembrance of walking away from Benji, or having it all happen
a second time. It’s like a horrible living nightmare that won’t stop, and I can’t
imagine what it’s going to be like when I go to bed tonight.

Jack’s car is still in the parking garage when I pull into my spot
and for some reason it pisses me off. I think right now anything would piss me
off. I park and take the elevator up to the office, hoping that for some
reason, he happens to not realize I’m back. But of course that fails miserably
as soon as the elevator door opens.

I come face to face with Jack as he stands in the lobby of the
office waiting for the next elevator. The doors open, but he’s looking down and
when he looks up, his eyes grow wide.

“You look like shit,” he says immediately.

“Fuck off,” I reply back and shove past him, heading for my
office.

I hear his footsteps following me before he says anything else.
The sound of them scraping along the carpet and then clicking when we hit the
tile floor that leads to the office. I focus on the sound so I can drown out
the thoughts that are running through my head.

How am I going to explain anything to him when I can’t even
explain it to myself?

“Campbell,” Jack calls, as I reach my office. “I have no idea
what’s going on and you’ve told me not to ask, so I won’t. I just need to know,
is this one of those times when you want me here or should I just leave?”

I look up at him, my eyes dry and itchy from crying and as much
as I want to unload everything right now, I can’t. I just can’t do it.

“Go away, Jack,” I say emotionless, yet barely holding on. “I’ll
be back at work tomorrow. Regular time.”

He stares at me for another minute before shaking his head and
leaving my office.

A long breath escapes my mouth as I collapse in my desk chair,
done with this day, done with trying to figure out where things went wrong, not
just with today, but with my life. It’s all a fucking mess that just keeps
getting worse.

I pour myself into researching several companies Jack had asked
me to look into before I left, allowing them to consume my thoughts, taking
excessive notes and making a plan for the three I was able to get through.

It’s well after midnight but I’m not even slightly tired. I
should be exhausted by now and because of that, I decide to head home. Back to
my home, the one I planned to leave behind just a few hours ago. I wasn’t going
to come back to this life; the one where I live miserable and lonely, shutting
down and only carrying on because my body just won’t fucking give up. But I
have no other option. I’ll bury everything and continue to lie to everyone
around me that my life is normal, that the way I live and the way I feel is
completely normal, but deep down I’m only lying to myself.

How much longer can I go on
like this?
I
think, as I pull in my garage, especially after the last few days I spent with
Benji. The reminder of what it felt like to be truly happy is almost worse than
the nine years I spent living a lie. And even worse than what I’m feeling now,
is the thought of being alone, again. I hate that I long to be touched by him,
to be held and comforted and made to feel safe…made to feel loved. I miss him
so much more than I ever thought possible. The pain of it all is so
unbelievably unending and crippling.

I walk in and find the mess that was left by Carson and I run my
hand through my hair. This is the last fucking thing I want to deal with, but I
also don’t want his shit in my house. I don’t want anyone in my house ever
again. I want to get back to what it feels like to live numb and detached.

The only saving grace of it is, that it’s a distraction, packing
Carson’s things is. If I stay awake, it can’t haunt my dreams, the accident,
Tommy dying, my letter, and losing Benji a second time. If I don’t sleep, it
won’t torment me.

I still haven’t stopped long enough to think about it and I won’t
start now.

I begin packing Carson’s things, in a rather strange and
obsessively organized fashion. Placing all his suits and dress shirts, still on
hangers and covered in plastic into a garment bag he used when he traveled for
work and then moving on to what is left in the drawers of the dresser. It’s not
much, but I still neatly re-fold everything and place it in the suitcase that
matches the garment bag.

I wonder what is driving me to do this, because I know it’s not
just something that occupies my time. There’s more to it than that and that’s
when I realize I’m crying. The tears are falling from my eyes and I understand
what I’ve become and I hate myself.

There is nothing left in my life; that small bit of hope I let
through when I was with Benji is now gone and as it left, it ripped my chest
wide open. This time, my whole heart went with it. Any shred of humanity and
kindness and ability to love went with it, too.

And for some reason, I think if I do this for Carson, he won’t
hate me. But like everything else, it’s a lie too. It just makes it easier to
live with myself. I’m a horrible person.

I finish packing all of Carson’s things, placing them by the
door so I can take them with me to work tomorrow. I’ll courier everything from
the office to where Carson works. This will save me the time and the stress of
having to deal with him and despite the fact that he cheated on me, I’m the one
who ultimately ruined everything between us and I’m not sure I can face him.

I didn’t love him and I never would have, but I did love Benji
and still do. Yet, I seem to ruin what I have; it all falling apart around me,
slow and painful.

I pick up my phone in the hopes that Benji has given me
something, but I find nothing. I won’t text him or call, because that makes me
seem desperate, like I’m clinging to the one bit of dignity I have left and I’m
torn as to what to do. I want him back, I want to feel whole again, but I also
know how quickly it can turn bad. It’s not something I want to deal with, and
after the way things ended, I’m certain I can’t put myself through it all again.

I’m avoiding sleep, and I feel my body beginning to shut down,
my eyes heavy, my head starting to ache as a feeling of nausea looms. I know I
need to sleep, but my life is a waking nightmare. I can only imagine what will
happen when I finally give in and fall asleep.

I climb into bed, the sheets cold and unforgiving, and in the
darkness of my bedroom, the loneliness only seems to be magnified. I’m done
crying, I tell myself, returning to the harsh exterior I’ve grown used to, I
need to protect myself. I can’t let my guard down again. I won’t find myself
here, crying and desperate, but I know I’m lying.

I miss Benji more than anything. I miss him more than I miss
myself.

I find myself falling asleep, but fighting it vehemently,
because each time I close my eyes I see his face. I hear his voice say my name
and feel his hands on my body, comforting me, and it hurts like hell.

I wake up, a silent scream stuck in my throat. My mouth is open,
but no sound comes out. I’m covered in sweat and shaking before I finally suck
in a rough, hard breath. It does nothing to calm me; the visions of the
accident replaying endlessly in my head, each image worse than what I remember.

This time it’s Benji’s body, lifeless and bloody, slumped over
the steering wheel and I’m standing in front of him crying, screaming his name,
but nothing happens. I’m alone and I leave him. It’s horrifying and disturbing
and I wonder if this will ever stop.

I can’t live like this. I can’t live without him.

It’s still dark out, but not nearly as early as I expected. It’s
after five, and as if I’m on autopilot, I do what I’ve always done and get
ready for work. Going through the motions of a regular life, but not
remembering any of it and by the time I arrive at my office, I can’t even recall
how I got here. Dragging myself off the elevator and into the dark lobby,
because I’m far earlier than most of the people who work here, I head to my office
and immediately close the door.

My computer is now sitting on my desk, open and starting up, I
remove my phone from my bag and see a missed called, three actually—all
from Benji. All of the calls coming in after two in the morning and I wonder
how I missed any of them and then I notice my phone is on silent. And despite
the rush of energy that ran through my body at the sight of his name, I’m not
sure I would’ve answered anyway.

My only thoughts are negative. What could he have possibly said
to me at this point? And while I know at one point there was hope for us, it’s
now gone. It’s too fucked up to fix.

Shit, this is not good; it’s really bad actually. Seeing his
name on my phone, knowing he’s trying to reach me; I just can’t do it.

I toss my phone back in my bag, ignoring his calls, ignoring him
and ignoring the way I feel, torn and lost, but adamant not to set myself up
for hurt. I’m not sure I could hear his voice and not breakdown immediately.

As soon as my day starts I begin to function normally again,
even though Jack keeps eyeing me from across the conference room table with a
look of pity in his eyes. It makes me sick and his stare is now becoming
uncomfortable. I look away from him as I feel my hands start to shake,
frustrated with myself for ever sharing anything with him and even more upset
that he can’t just let it go. The more I feel his eyes on me the more flustered
I become, making it difficult to carry on with this meeting.

“Excuse me,” I interrupt as the president of our marketing department
is in the middle of a presentation. His eyes quickly flash to me and he glares
as if I’ve just broken his concentration. I’m sure I have, but I can’t have
Jack staring at me all day, especially since we are about to close a huge deal
that I’ve been working on for months. “Sorry,” I say curtly as I turn my
attention to Jack. “I need to speak with you for a minute.” And Jack instantly
looks perturbed but I really don’t care.

“Now?”

“Yes, now.”

He lets out an irritated sigh before addressing the people
sitting around the table and following me out of the room and into my office.

“What?” he says tersely, as I close the door behind us.

“You’ve got to stop. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

My life has become all about hiding myself and right now I’m
failing miserably. Jack can see right through all the bullshit and I need him
to stop. He’s making this far more difficult than it needs to be.

“From the moment I walked in here today, I’ve been nothing but
professional and that should be your only concern.” I look away from him not
needing him to see the pain that hides behind my eyes. It’s now harder than
ever to hide it all.

“Campbell, please let me help you,” he practically begs and it
wrecks me. I wish he could help me, but this is so far beyond him or any help
he could give. Not to mention the fear of what sharing all of it with him might
do to my job, his view of me and our working relationship. I can’t and I could
never share this burden with anyone else. This is mine. I created this problem.

I shake my head as I answer softly, “No, Jack, please just let
it go.”

Neither of us speaks for a moment and then without warning he
leaves, which has me breathing a sigh of relief, yet at the same time I’m
crying inside.

An hour later, I step back into the same conference room I found
myself in earlier in the day with Jack sitting across from me, but this time
his face is stoic and he never once looks over at me.

He speaks firmly and professionally throughout our meeting and I
eventually find myself looking over at the man sitting next to me. He’s young,
probably about Jack’s age and I suddenly feel sorry for him. He’s about to lose
his company to us. I spent months researching him and his company as I watched
his stock plummet on a daily basis as he tried to restructure, firing most of
his staff and sinking more money in every day, only to find his company
continued to fail. At this point he’s so far gone, there’s no way to dig his
way out.

I’m certain he never thought he’d be sitting here with us as we
talk money and mergers and a way to buy him out without it looking poorly for
him. Jack bullshits him, coddles him almost and I hate it. This is what we’ve
become. This is what I’ve become to keep myself detached from life. A hardcore
bitch that takes people’s hard earned businesses and profits off their loss and
stupidity. It’s a job that requires time and focus, and one mistake could cost
Jack his entire life and maybe that’s why I work so hard at it. At least one of
us can be happy.