I Wish You All the Best

by Mason Deaver

  I went up to my room, slamming the door behind me. And I hardly saw them for the rest of the weekend. They made sure I ate, and that was it, I didn’t leave a lot of room for them to stick around and talk to me.

  At least they didn’t make me go to school today.

  Nathan: Good afternoon!

  Nathan: Just want to see how you’re doing!

  Nathan: Missed you today, I got your homework from the office.

  Nathan: Mel and Sophie wanted me to check in, see if you’re okay.

  Nathan: Did you know it’s male peacocks who have all the colorful plumage? the females are sort of bland looking.

  I can’t help but laugh at the last one because it screams Nathan. I really don’t deserve someone like him.

  No one does.

  Nathan: I can keep sending random facts if you want!

  Nathan: Or videos of puppies!!!

  He’s sent five, and I watch all of them. I want to reply, to let him know that I’m at least safe. But something in me is just keeping me from typing the simplest of messages.

  I am okay.

  For some reason, it’s easier to text Mariam. The words come easier with them.

  Me: hey

  Mariam: Hey Benji, what’s up???

  Me: Something happened…

  Mariam: uh-oh

  Me: I met with my parents.

  The little bubble beside Mariam’s name appears and reappears over and over again for almost a full minute.

  Me: you okay?

  Mariam: me? Okay? Ben are YOU okay????

  Mariam: sorry, I just…

  Mariam: Couldn’t even think of what to say to that

  Mariam: Ben… what happened?

  I tell them everything. The message, meeting with Mom and Dad, them showing up at the art show and the fight with Hannah. The texting already feels easier. Maybe it’s because Mariam isn’t actually here. I can’t see their face while I tell them this, and they won’t run over from their house to come and try to comfort me or whatever.

  Mariam: Are you safe?

  Me: Yeah, they’re gone.

  Mariam: Ben… I don’t even know where to begin…

  Me: They wanted me to go back home with them.

  Me: I told them no

  Mariam: THE. FUCK.

  Mariam: Send me their address, I’m going to go kick their asses

  Mariam: What can I do?

  Me: keep me company?

  Mariam: You got it, want to Facetime?

  Me: Not right now.

  Me: Just keep talking, not about them.

  Mariam: Well…

  Mariam: me and Shauna made it official, which sucks because my tour will take me out of California next week and she can’t come with me.

  Me: That’s great! The official part, not the separating part.

  Nothing feels faker than typing out false enthusiasm while I feel like I’m rotting from the inside out.

  Me: I don’t think you told me how you met.

  Mariam: The usual way. I kept seeing her at a Starbucks and I melted slowly into a puddle of anxiety until she actually came up to me and we started talking.

  Me: Love at first anxiety attack

  Mariam: That’s how I roll.

  Mariam: What about you, what’s going on with your boy troubles?

  Me: I don’t know… he was there, like he saw the fight and stuff.

  Mariam: Please tell me they didn’t out you

  Me: They didn’t

  If there was a silver lining in all of this, I suppose it was that.

  Me: But I…

  Me: I think I like him. Like really like him. Maybe more than that.

  Mariam: That’s great, Benji! I’m so happy for you

  Mariam: Now how do we make the grand declaration of love? I’ve got those cannons that shoot t-shirts.

  Mariam: Or a flash mob? We can all dance to a Carly Rae Jepsen song and then you pop out in the middle with one of those ‘Will You Go Out With Me’ signs

  I want to laugh. I want to laugh so badly, but I can’t make myself do it.

  Me: It’ll never happen

  Mariam: Why?

  Me: I’m too messy

  Mariam: Messy?

  I take deep breaths. There’s that weird feeling in my stomach again.

  Me: He deserves something simpler.

  Me: And I’m not that

  Mariam: Don’t you think that’s his call to make?

  Me: I don’t want to hurt him

  Me: And I don’t want him to hurt me.

  Mariam: sometimes it’s worth it

  Mariam: Never know until you try right?

  Me: maybe.

  “Ben?” Hannah’s voice almost makes me jump. “You okay?”

  I don’t answer.

  I want to, but I can’t right now. It’s too much. And in all honesty, Hannah’s one of the last people I want to talk to right now.

  I miss an entire week of school. Which isn’t smart since it’s getting so close to exam season, but I don’t care. It feels like I can’t move half the time, and there’s no way I can face everyone at North Wake yet. The only time I get up is to use the bathroom. Every other free moment is spent watching something on my phone. One of Mariam’s new videos, or Bob Ross painting something. Anything to take the edge off.

  Thomas brings me food, but I can only nibble at it, even though it feels like my stomach is trying to digest itself. I don’t have much of an appetite. “Hannah made an appointment with Dr. Taylor tomorrow. She has an opening after lunch.”

  I notice that it’s not a request. I’ll be going to this appointment, even if they have to drag me out of bed. I’ll have to tell Dr. Taylor I’ve been neglecting my meds. I know not taking them is only making things worse, but I just can’t bring myself to take them, I don’t know why.

  “Can you talk to me, Ben?” He reaches for my hand, but I bury it under the sheets. “Or at least talk to Hannah?”

  “Not right now.” I’m not angry with her, except that I am. I know it wasn’t really her fault, that Mom and Dad lied, just like they always did. Trying to make themselves the good guys. But it still hurt. “Just leave me alone.”

  “Do you think you want to try and go to school tomorrow? Hannah can pick you up for the appointment.”

  Nothing. My answer would be no. I can’t face everyone after all of this. I just can’t. I know I need to, and I know the actual probability of anyone giving a shit about what happened at a student art show over a week ago is slim. But I can’t get over the feeling.

  Despite everything, I force myself to go back. It’s the end of the year, and while I’d love nothing more than to wallow in my own misery for the next month, the idea of repeating a year is not something I find appealing.

  Nathan doesn’t try to talk to me in Chemistry. Maybe he knows I’m not in the mood. When the bell for lunch rings, I hang back for a few seconds.

  “Hannah’s waiting for you in the office, Ben.” Thomas waits for me to grab my bag. He even follows me the entire way to the office. No worries, Thomas, I don’t feel like running anywhere. Or I don’t have the energy, at least. I’d really rather do nothing but go home and crawl back under the sheets until I have to repeat all of this again tomorrow.

  “You feeling okay?” Hannah asks when we’re in the car.

  “Yeah,” I mutter.

  “I want you to tell her about the show, okay?”

  I really don’t want to talk about it again, but I think I should. Or I know I should. My guess is that Hannah’s already mentioned something to her. I hope she has. Maybe then I won’t have to.

  “Ben?” The way she says my name makes it feel like I’m a thousand miles away. I just stare out the window as we drive past the bright walls of North Wake. She doesn’t try to strike up a conversation again. I’m sure she knows it’s pointless. It takes every bit of effort I have left to crawl out of the car and make my way to the elevator. Hannah goes to her usual spot in the corner of the room.

 
“Good morning, Ben.” Dr. Taylor’s already holding the door open for me. “Or should I say good afternoon?” She chuckles and glances at the clock on the wall. “My, where does the time go?”

  I look back at Hannah. She gives me one of those half smiles that I think is supposed to mean she’s trying to be supportive. “Can Hannah come in?”

  They both look sort of surprised, but I just really don’t want it to be me and Dr. Taylor.

  Dr. Taylor just nods. “Of course. Hannah?”

  “You sure, sib?” Hannah asks, grabbing her bag.

  I nod and walk into the office, taking my spot on the ugly yellow couch. Hannah sits at the other end.

  “So, how’re you doing, Ben?”

  I shrug and listen to her write something down.

  “It’s been awhile since we’ve met. Has anything happened?” She asks it in a way that I can tell she’s referring to the meeting with Mom and Dad. I just shrug again. Apparently, it’s all I’m good for at the moment. I can feel the frustration in the way Dr. Taylor sighs, and I want to apologize.

  “Can I speak?” Hannah raises her hand and looks at me, like she needs my approval or something.

  “Of course,” Dr. Taylor answers for me.

  “It’s been over a week and they’ve just been …” Hannah looks at me. “Like this, like …” She trails off like she’s searching for the right word.

  Has it really been over a week? I try to lay the time line out in my head. Days of lying in bed, not showering or eating or bothering to talk to anyone.

  It couldn’t really have been a week … could it?

  “Unresponsive?”

  “They haven’t been doing anything. No talking, barely eating. I checked their journal and I don’t think they’ve been taking their medication either.”

  Checking my journal? I want to tell myself that means Hannah cares, but all I’m hearing is that she’s been going behind my back, looking into things that aren’t her business.

  “What happened to cause this?” Dr. Taylor asks me. But Hannah does before I have a chance to.

  “Our parents,” she says. “They came to Ben’s art show.”

  “Oh. You met with them, didn’t you?” Dr. Taylor writes something down.

  “You knew about this?” Hannah asks.

  “I did,” Dr. Taylor says quietly. “Ben and I discussed it at our last meeting.”

  Hannah opens her mouth, but then she just huffs and sinks back into the couch. “I can’t believe you thought it was a good idea.”

  “I never suggested Ben meet with them, I simply gave my opinion.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Hannah.” Dr. Taylor holds up a finger. “I let Ben make their own decision. Now please.” Wow. I stare at Dr. Taylor, a little dumbfounded. And if I’m being honest, I’m a little jealous of the way she shut Hannah down. “Ben, would you mind starting from the beginning, so Hannah knows the full story?”

  “It started with a message.” I glance toward Hannah. “Mom sent it a few months back, but I didn’t see it until recently.” Then I turn back to Dr. Taylor. “We met and they … they wanted me to go home with them, claimed they’d learned and wanted to try.”

  “Try what, Ben?” Dr. Taylor asks.

  “To be a family again, I guess.”

  Hannah still isn’t really looking at me. “Why didn’t you tell me, Ben?”

  “Because I knew you’d overreact.”

  “Well, I don’t really think that’s a reason.” She crosses her arms. “You should’ve shared that message with me. I could’ve gone with you.”

  “Because the reunion at school went so well, didn’t it?”

  “Ben,” Dr. Taylor chimes in. “Why did you think Hannah would overreact?”

  “She always did when it came to Dad. I think she proved that at the show.”

  Dr. Taylor jots something down. “Okay, now that I don’t know about.”

  “I had an art show at school. And everything was going great until—” I start to say.

  And Hannah interrupts me. “They showed up.”

  “I see,” Dr. Taylor says. “And what happened?”

  “They made a scene.” Hannah pouts. “Embarrassed me, Ben, their friends.”

  I snort. “Yeah, they made a scene.”

  “Well, they did!” Hannah actually looks surprised. Like, really? She can’t be serious right now.

  “Hannah, none of that would’ve happened if you would’ve just stayed back. That’s why I sent Nathan to keep you away.”

  “They shouldn’t have been there, Ben.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” God, she’s really going for it. “I was handling it. They were going to leave before you saw them and started a fight. Just like you always used to.” I can hear my voice getting louder, but I can’t keep it back anymore.

  “Oh, so I started the fights?” Hannah growls.

  “Most of the time? Yeah! Were Mom and Dad kinda shitty? Of course, but you didn’t have to fight with them every chance you got. That’s what they wanted, Hannah. They thrived on that shit and so did you!”

  “Ben …” Hannah’s eyes are wet.

  “You always used to do that. You’d keep fighting with them even though you knew it was no use, that it was just a waste of time. And that’s what you did at school. Started a fight for no reason.”

  “No reason? Ben, they abandoned you—”

  “Well, they weren’t the only ones who’ve done that, are they?” I can’t keep it back anymore. It’s all about to flood over, the waves are lapping at the edge, and I can’t keep it back. “Ten years, Hannah. Ten years.”

  “What do you mean?” she asks, but she already knows. There’s no way she can’t.

  “For ten years you left me with them. With a note and a phone number, which might as well have been a big ‘fuck you, I’m done, you’re on your own now, kid!’” I collapse back into the couch, my shoulders lurching.

  I don’t feel any better. In fact, I feel like I’m going to be sick.

  And then the tears come.

  “I was just a kid. I didn’t have a phone or anything. How was I supposed to call you without them knowing?”

  “I didn’t …” Hannah runs a hand through her hair.

  “But that was it. A phone number I couldn’t call, and an address to a place I couldn’t get to. I understand that you had to leave. That you couldn’t take it anymore, I’m not mad at you for that.” I wipe my eyes with my sleeve, and Dr. Taylor slides the box of tissues toward me. “But I was alone. I was alone and scared, and I didn’t really know what’d happened to you. You knew how bad they could get, and you just left me to fight for myself.”

  For a few seconds, the room is totally quiet, save for my quiet sobs. Hannah’s staring at the place on the floor, and Dr. Taylor’s looking between the two of us. I guess maybe waiting for the next explosion.

  “Ben?” Dr. Taylor’s voice is surprisingly calm. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m sorry, I just …” I shake my head. “I didn’t mean that, Hannah, I’m sorry.”

  “No.” She still isn’t looking at me. “No, I get it.” Then she buries her face in her hands and lets out this long groan. “Oh God, I can’t believe this.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, and then again. And again, like they’re the only two words left. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry?” Hannah asks, her voice made up half of laughter, half of sobs. “I’m the one who should be fucking sorry. The first chance I got I left that house and never looked back.” Her eyes finally meet mine. My eyes, our father’s eyes. “I fucked up.”

  “Well, to be honest, in the sort of situation you two came from, there are rarely winners,” Dr. Taylor says. “Tell me what you’re feeling, Hannah.”

  Hannah blows into a tissue, not the most graceful sound. “That I messed up.”

  “Yes, well.” Dr. Taylor chuckles. “That I understand, but you must be feeling something deeper than that?”


  “I’m just sort of confused, and angry with myself.”

  “About?”

  “How right Ben is.” She plucks another tissue, and wipes under her eyes. “When I left, I still thought about them, almost every day. Until, I guess …” Hannah’s voice falters, and she starts to shake her head. “My husband, Thomas, he didn’t even know about Ben until we’d been dating for a few years.”

  “You didn’t tell him?” Dr. Taylor asks. “How did he find out?”

  “We were unpacking. He found a photo album I took, and he saw Ben’s pictures.”

  “So, you really did forget about me?” I stare at her. I don’t know why I’m shocked. This was a truth I already knew. Maybe I thought she could prove me wrong. That she’d admit to fighting for custody of me or trying her best to mail me letters only to have them intercepted by Mom or Dad.

  But no. My own sister forgot about me.

  “I didn’t forget about you, Ben,” Hannah says. “I just … had other things on my mind.”

  “Ah.” I stare ahead. “Because that makes everything better.”

  “Ben, tell me what you’re thinking.” God bless Dr. Taylor. If she wasn’t here to mediate this whole thing, I think we might’ve started tearing each other’s hair out. “Are you angry with Hannah?”

  “I’m not angry,” I say. I don’t think I am, at least. “But it still hurts.”

  Dr. Taylor nods. “And that’s perfectly valid. Do you ever think she could make it up to you?”

  “She has, hasn’t she?” All the things she’s done for me. Jesus, I don’t have any right to be angry at her. The clothes, the food, getting me into school, giving me a bed.

  “You’re still hurt, aren’t you?”

  I nod.

  “It’s a hard thing to forget, isn’t it? Even harder to forgive.” Dr. Taylor asks, “Hannah, do you think that’s where your willingness to help Ben comes from?”

  “Well, they’re my sibling,” Hannah says. “I’d do anything …” Then she stops. “I like to think I’d do anything for them.”

  “Except make sure they’re safe?” It’s odd how Dr. Taylor can keep something from sounding like an accusation. Her words don’t sound mean or directed at Hannah in some sort of personal attack. They sound like the truth. Simple and easy. “I’m sure it’d be easy to help Ben now, you two have reconnected, and you’ve been able to have an actual relationship. But back in January? After a decade apart, was it really so easy?”