by Jay Bell
Once he was downstairs again, his mother switched off her usual decorating TV program and hustled him into the kitchen.
“Chili,” she announced as she began pulling ingredients from the cabinets. “This is one of the easiest things to cook.”
Ben helped her to reach some of the items on the higher shelves. His mother was so short that she actually made him feel tall. He had inherited his small build from her, as well as the blond hair. Really, he didn’t resemble his father very much. “What did you eat last night at your friend’s house?” she asked casually as she turned the oven on.
“I tried making spaghetti, but it didn’t turn out so well.”
“So you cooked for his whole family?” His mother turned her lie-detecting gaze on him.
“No, they were out of town.” There was no point in lying. He never managed to get away with it. His mom saw through it every time.
“You didn’t mention that when you called last night,” she said. “You were supposed to be out with Allison but ended up at some guy’s house. Someone we’ve never met.”
Ben shrugged, knowing that the less he said the better.
“Did you actually know this guy, or did you meet him at a bar?” she pressed.
Ben laughed, feeling relieved at finally understanding the source of her worries.
“I wasn’t at a bar, Mom. I don’t even have a fake ID. I met Tim at school a few weeks ago.”
His mom didn’t respond. Instead she showed him the proper way to cut an onion, probably while rethinking her strategy.
“I just want you to be safe,” she said as she slid the diced onion off the cutting board and into a frying pan sizzling with ground beef. “If you need something, like condoms or lube, you just have to ask.”
Ben fought to hold back his laughter. His mother was imagining all sorts of illicit sex, when the most that had happened last night was a few board games. He was pretty sure that a condom wasn’t required to play Scrabble or Life.
“He’s not my boyfriend, mom. He’s straight.”
She set down the can she was trying to open with a loud thunk. “Then why are you cooking for him? And how come you haven’t been home all week? What exactly do you two do together?”
Now she was back to suspecting drugs. She would be twice as shocked to learn that he had in reality been doing many of the same chores that he had tackled today.
“I just really like him, that’s all.”
“Oh, Benjamin,” she said sorrowfully. “You need to find someone who can return your feelings. You’re just going to end up getting hurt.”
“That’s what everyone keeps telling me,” he responded tersely.
“You haven’t met any other gay boys at your school?”
He shook his head.
“None? Maybe we should get you a fake ID. We could go to the bar together.”
“Sure!” Ben laughed. “You can help me pick someone out.”
“I would, too! I just don’t think that’s the best place to meet someone. Have you thought about personal ads?”
“C’mon, Mom. Stop worrying about it. I’m sure I’ll meet someone. I just hope it happens before I’m thirty.”
“It will. It’s just a matter of time before someone realizes how special my baby is.”
Ben smiled as they continued making chili together. The recipe was easy. All he had to do was throw a bunch of stuff in a pot and let it cook. Even he couldn’t mess this one up.
“You should have been honest though,” his mother said, almost as an afterthought. “All that stuff about being out with Allison!”
Ben remained silent, wondering suddenly how she figured out that he hadn’t gone to the movies at all.
“She’s going to be in trouble with her father too, you know,” she continued in chastising tones. “He sounded furious when he called last night.”
“What? Allison’s dad called?”
“Late last night. After you called and said you’d be sleeping over. He asked if I knew where you two were, and, well …”
Ben didn’t need her to finish. The sinking feeling in his stomach told him all he needed to know.
Chapter Seven
Lunchtime couldn’t come quick enough on Monday. Despite calling Allison at least three dozen times Sunday evening, Ben had been unable to reach her. The phone only rang and rang, not even the answering machine picking up. Unless she had entered into a six-hour conversation with Ronnie, which seemed unlikely, her phone had probably been taken away, or maybe her private line had been canceled.
Ben’s apprehension increased as she failed to appear at their usual place in the cafeteria. Usually she was there waiting for him, since her third period class was much closer. Finally, ten minutes into the lunch break, she arrived looking haggard and stressed.
Ben stood and embraced her, clutching her as he let loose a string of clumsy apologies.
“What are you talking about?” she demanded once he had pulled away.
Ben confessed his guilt in being a key factor in her getting caught.
Allison waited until he was finished and waved a hand dismissively. “I would have gotten in trouble anyway,” she said as she sat down. “My dad was waiting for us in the driveway.”
“No!”
“Yes! He’s completely psycho. I even had Ronnie drop me off further down the street, but not far enough I guess.”
Ben slid his Twinkie over to her as a gesture of peace, even though it was clear she wasn’t angry with him. “So your dad spotted you getting out of Ronnie’s car?”
“Yeah. He was sitting in the middle of the driveway in a fold-out chair, drinking his whisky like it was going out of style. He sat there waiting for me for who knows how long.”
“So what did he do?”
“Well, luckily I saw him running down the road in time to tell Ronnie to take off. He managed to get out of there before my dad caught up with him, but he did throw his whisky bottle at his car. Hit it, too.”
Ben sat in a stunned silence, taking in this news. Allison’s dad had always been a bit loony, but he seemed to be getting worse every year.
“Did it jack up Ronnie’s car?”
“No. I just saw him a second ago and he said it was fine. It’s the first that I’ve talked to him since it happened. Dad smashed the hell out of my phone in the process of grounding me.”
“So…” Ben hesitated, not wanting to ask if she and Ronnie were still dating. It wouldn’t be the first time her dad managed to scare away one of her boyfriends.
“I don’t know what he thinks of it all,” Allison sighed miserably. “He seemed okay. Concerned more than anything. He’s in my last class, so I’ll have a better chance to talk to him about it then.”
Because Ben skipped sixth period to take care of Tim, he didn’t have a chance to catch up with her after school. He didn’t hear anything else about it until the next day. Allison didn’t show up at lunch at all, conjuring the worst case scenarios into his mind. As psychotic as her dad might be, so far he had never laid a hand on Allison. Sometimes Ben thought it was only a matter of time before he did. With less than two years left before college, he hoped that she would be free before anything like that ever happened.
To his great relief, Allison was waiting for him outside fourth period choir. His reprieve didn’t last long when he saw how panicked she appeared.
“You have to help me,” she said, grabbing both his arms.
Ben’s mouth went dry. “What happened?” he rasped, feeling certain that his worst fears had come true.
“Ronnie is coming over.” Her eyes searched his, questioning if he understood the full implications. “Tonight!”
“Wait, you invited him over? Why would you do that?”
“No, I didn’t invite him! Are you insane? He invited himself!”
Ben pondered this for a moment before understanding what was going on. “He’s doomed.” He couldn’t help but laugh as he said it. Ronnie’s intention was obviously to introduce
himself to Mr. Cross and possibly get Allison ungrounded. The gesture was noble, if not suicidal.
“It’s not funny!” Allison hissed, casting an uneasy glance toward Mrs. Hammond, who had come outside the choir room to investigate.
“Is there any reason you two are so apprehensive of entering my domicile?” she asked in dramatic tones that were wholly unnecessary.
“We just have a few things to talk over,” Ben said.
The look of pleasant amusement fell from Mrs. Hammond’s face. Ben might be her star pupil, but her own ego came first. “What, exactly, is more important than my class?” she insisted, all theatrical traces now gone from her voice.
“The talent show,” Ben said, thinking fast. This was Mrs. Hammond’s favorite subject. She had high hopes for them to win last year until a tonsillectomy took Ben’s voice out the week of the show. Since then she mentioned the following year’s competition almost daily. “It’s not more important, of course. It’s just that I had a few ideas last night and--”
“Say no more!” Mrs. Hammond trilled, her mood instantly favorable again. “The talent show! Well! If you two would rather practice today, the auditorium next door is empty.”
After a few comments engineered to make Mrs. Hammond feel good about herself, they were able to escape to the privacy of the auditorium. Allison flopped down in one of the chairs and aimed an expectant look at him.
“Just talk him out of it,” Ben said easily. “Tell him that it’s a sweet but horrible idea and that will be the end of it.”
“What do you think I was doing during lunch? He kept smiling at me as if I was exaggerating things for my own amusement.”
“Even after having his car pelted by a whisky bottle?”
“He acts like he didn’t even notice.” Allison frowned. “Now I wish it had busted out one of his windows or something.”
“I guess some lessons need to be learned the hard way.”
Ben smiled sympathetically, a gesture Allison didn’t reciprocate. Instead her frown increased and her forehead wrinkled with concern. “I’m really worried about Ronnie,” she said. “You know my dad. He gets crazier and meaner every year. I need your help.”
Ben shrugged and nodded, indicating that he would do whatever she needed.
“Come over tonight,” she pleaded. “When Ronnie’s there I want you there, too.”
“Yeah, right.” Ben’s chuckle faltered when he saw that she was being serious. “And this is going to keep your dad calm, how?”
“He won’t be calm no matter what happens, but he’s much less likely to do something stupid with other people around.”
Rubbing his forehead wearily, Ben paced back and forth a few times. “If you want a witness to keep the situation in check, maybe you should try the police.”
Allison didn’t respond, choosing instead to wait for a definitive answer.
“All right. I’ll be there. When?”
“At six. Or a little before, so you are there before Ronnie shows up. Here…” Allison dug in her purse and pulled out her wallet. “You can bring this to me. That will be your excuse for being there. There’s one other thing.”
“What’s that?” he asked apprehensively.
“You totally just entered us in the talent contest a few minutes ago.”
Ben rolled his eyes and smiled. “Wonderful.”
* * * * *
Five minutes before six, Ben walked up the driveway of Allison’s home with increasing trepidation about this plan. He was certain that his presence would only serve to aggravate Mr. Cross further, but he couldn’t get out of it now. He had promised Allison and had no choice but to follow through.
The door swung open before he could knock. Allison put one finger to her lips to indicate that he should stay quiet and waved him into the house.
“I don’t want dad to know you’re here until Ronnie shows up,” she whispered.
“That makes sense,” Ben muttered.
They crept into the living room and sat together on the comfortable burgundy couch. The living room, like most of the house, was warmly decorated and very inviting. Little had changed since Mrs. Cross died eight years ago. Ben had few memories of her, but remembered her being as expressive and friendly as her daughter. He wondered how someone like her had ended up with the man she married. Was Mr. Cross a different man back then? Was it the death of his wife that transformed him into the domineering brute he was today?
The doorbell rang, causing both Allison and Ben to jump.
“Aren’t you going to get it?” he asked her when she didn’t move.
“Nope. I’m grounded.”
Shivers went down Ben’s spine as footsteps came tromping from the hallway behind them. There was a pause when they neared, before they continued quicker than before.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Mr. Cross grumbled as he entered the room and saw Ben.
“He brought me my wallet.” Allison nudged Ben, prompting him to dig it out of his pocket. “I left it at school today.”
Mr. Cross scowled and started to say something, but the doorbell interrupted him. Shaking his head, he marched to the door and threw it open. “Yes?”
“Mr. Cross?” A figure could just barely be seen beyond Allison’s father.
“Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Ronnie Adams. Your daughter’s boyfriend, sir.”
The door began to shut. “She’s grounded!”
“I’m here to talk to you, sir. About your daughter. Please.”
Mr. Cross stood there in silence, momentarily unsure how to react. Finally he stepped out of the way, allowing Ronnie to enter.
Ben hadn’t seen Ronnie since biology class last year and was unaware how much he had changed. Ronnie had always been moderately attractive in a grunge sort of way, but now he had come into his own. The shoulder-length dreadlocks had been culled, revealing a handsome face with even features. The concert T-shirts and ratty jeans were gone, replaced by trendier clothing that fit closer to his body. He had either been working out or the oversized shirts of yesterday had disguised his nice pecs and narrow waist.
“Do you know this person, Alli?” Mr. Cross demanded as they neared the couch.
“Yes, he’s the guy you threw a whisky bottle at,” Allison said.
Ben held his breath, waiting for an explosion, but instead Mr. Cross apologized reluctantly to Ronnie.
“It’s okay. It didn’t do any damage, sir,” Ronnie said politely.
He was being a bit too cordial, in Ben’s opinion, but it had gotten him this far, which was more than he had expected.
“I can understand why you were angry,” Ronnie continued. “I should have asked permission to take your daughter out.”
“Well, that’s why she’s in trouble,” Mr. Cross huffed, working himself up. “She won’t be going out with anyone for some time.”
“I understand, sir,” Ronnie responded calmly. “I respect your authority. I just felt I should come by to apologize and to introduce myself properly.”
Mr. Cross eyed Ronnie suspiciously. “You can’t stay. She’s grounded.”
“That’s fair. I’ll be on my way then.” Ronnie held out his hand to Mr. Cross, who took it after a moment’s hesitation. “Maybe once Allison is no longer grounded, you would allow me to take her out again? This time with your permission?”
Multiple expressions fought for dominance on Mr. Cross’s face until it settled on perplexed acquiesce. “That might be possible.”
“Thank you, sir,” Ronnie said with one final handshake. He spared a single nod and smile at Allison before he headed for the door.
As soon as the front door was shut, Mr. Cross wheeled around and pointed an accusatory finger at Ben. “You think it’s funny, saying my daughter is with you when she’s out with a stranger?”
“No,” Ben answered, trying not to make eye contact.
“You’re damn right it’s not!” Mr. Cross boomed.
“Dad,” Allison interjected. �
��It wasn’t his idea. It was mine!”
“But he was happy enough to go along with it!” Mr. Cross countered, refusing to take his eyes off of Ben. “I bet you think you’re real smart, pulling the wool over my eyes, don’t you?”
“No,” Ben answered again, beginning to feel agitated. He handed Allison her wallet and stood. “I have to go home.”
“Yeah, you go home! You won’t ever be coming back here again, you hear me?”
“Fine, whatever.” Big loss. It wasn’t like they ever spent any time here with Mr. Cross being home so often.
“You won’t be seeing Allison again either.”
Ben stopped in his tracks. “What?”
“Your friendship with my daughter is over. You’re never allowed to see her again. Or call, or anything else!”
“Dad!” Allison protested.
“Shut up, Alli!”
“You shut up!” Ben yelled, surprising even himself. “You can’t tell me who I’m friends with. You can’t tell me anything!”
Mr. Cross’s shock only lasted a second before blind fury took control. Two long strides brought him close enough to grab Ben by the back of the neck. Mr. Cross shoved him toward the door, releasing Ben as he stumbled forward. “Get out!” he screamed. “Get out of my house!”
The second Ben opened the door, he felt himself shoved from behind. He hit the screen door, which buckled open. Sprinting to the driveway, he hopped into Tim’s car, his shaking hand stabbing at the ignition until the key slid inside. Once the engine sprang to life, he put it into drive and escaped down the street. He looked in the rearview mirror to see Mr. Cross standing in the yard, huffing and puffing like a bull. Allison stood behind him, a look of complete shock on her face.
* * * * *
There was, thankfully, very little that Mr. Cross could do to prevent them from seeing each other during the weekdays, short of sending Allison to a different school in another district. This possibility wasn’t so far-fetched. The idea would have seemed laughable a few short years ago, but Mr. Cross’s grip on reality was slipping at an exponential rate.