by Luke Lively
“Jack, I can’t tell you how much you have meant to Benny,” Ann said. “He thinks of you just like a part of our family. You’re just like a son to us.”
“I think of Benny just like a father,” I said, trying to keep my tears at bay. “And you just like a mother.”
“I don’t know how much longer Benny has,” Ann said. “He wants to go to the cabin again. As soon as he is up to it, I think it would be a good idea if you could drive him there—just the two of you. He would really like that.”
“I will,” I said. “You let me know when, and I’ll take him.”
Two weeks passed. Benny was released from the hospital and was ready to go to the lake. I drove to Benny’s house early, so we could have as much daylight as possible. As we were getting into my car, he looked back at Ann and said with a smile, “Now for the dangerous part—survive Jack’s driving.”
I laughed as I settled into the driver’s seat. “Ann, I promise I will drive my best today.”
“Just bring him back in one piece,” she said, laughing. “You two have a great day.”
In late winter, Roanoke’s weather could produce all four seasons in a single day. But on this day, the temperature was expected to climb to almost fifty degrees. As we made our way out of Salem into the morning traffic, the sun began to intermittently poke through the cloud cover. “Not bad weather for a trip to the lake,” Benny said as we drove southward toward Smith Mountain Lake. Most of the talk centered on work. I gave Benny a quick progress report to catch him up.
“You’re in charge, Jack,” he said. “I trust you. The only thing you must do is never forget where you came from.”
I told Benny about Carol, my assistant at PT&G, and the time she said that to me.
“She’s a smart lady,” Benny said.
We arrived at the lake, and I carried the lunch Ann had packed into the kitchen. Benny sat down in the rocker on the porch. As I emerged from inside, I heard him say, “Let’s go out on the boat.” Even though he was extremely weak, I knew this was something he wanted to do. This may be his last time at the lake, I thought to myself.
We walked to the dock and I prepared the boat. I was now what Benny termed a “semi-accomplished fisherman.” At least I was not falling off the dock, and I knew how to bait a hook. I guided the boat into the main channel. Benny looked happy.
After completing a lengthy circle of the lake area, we returned to the dock. Benny had said very little while on the boat. We walked back up the hill to the cabin, stopping several times so he could catch his breath. “This isn’t one of the most pleasant things about getting old,” he said. “I used to race Ben from the dock to the house. But that was a long time ago.” He stood looking toward the cabin and turned to look back at the dock. “Do you want to race?” he said, trying to smile.
I put my hand on his shoulder and said, “You’d still win.”
After we reached the cabin, Benny sat down in the rocker facing the lake. I asked him if he wanted me to bring out the sandwiches Ann had prepared. “That would be great, Jack,” he said. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to sit out here while you get the grub ready.”
I took my time. I knew he wanted time alone with his memories.
“Jack, when are you going to bring out those sandwiches?” Benny asked. “You didn’t eat them all did you?” I walked onto the porch with the sandwiches. After another trip into the kitchen, I brought the iced tea and apple pie to the porch. The breeze coming from the lake was calm. The sun was shining bright, warming the day to the predicted higher-than-normal temperature.
“I think I told you about Ben and how he always seemed to smile when he ran,” Benny said after a few moments. “I don’t think I told you why.”
I remembered hearing about Ben on this porch. Everything in my life had changed since that day.
“There was a reason. When he was first starting to run, he would get upset when someone would pass him. I never saw a youngster so competitive. He thought losing was going to mark him as something less than human. We wanted to see him enjoy something he was so natural at doing, whether he won or not. I struggled with how I could help. Then I shared with him something I learned in Vietnam. While he didn’t understand the conditions I was in as a POW, he took it to heart. In the POW camp, I created my own little ritual. Every morning when I saw the sun rise through the bamboo cage, I would make sure I conjured up a smile on my face. Smiling wasn’t the smartest thing to do.”
“I remember, you said they beat you if they saw you smile,” I said.
“Yes, they thought it was a sign of contempt. But a half-smile was my way to exert my right to choose—not just what I was thinking, but what I was doing.” Benny reached over and took a sip of tea. “I told Ben every time someone passed him or he was feeling the burn in his legs to give the world a smile. It was not a sign of contempt or arrogance. What the smile said was ‘I’m all right. Everything is okay in my world.’ He never had the issues he struggled with when someone would pass him or he felt weary. He remembered that he was responsible for what he did—not someone else.”
“When you’re in control, you’re happy,” I said, agreeing with what I thought he was saying.
“No, not control, but being aware of the reality you’re in and responding to it from the inside out.” He paused and turned to look at me. “Now I’m facing the inevitable. I’m going to die. I told you how Ben taught me how to live. He’s now giving me the courage to die.” He paused and looked up the road where I remember he said he saw Ben the last time alive. “Death is not an end—it’s a beginning. I believe it, Jack. How do I know? When I found Ben that morning along the road, my heart and soul were crushed. I ran to his side, and he was already gone. But he let me know he was all right. He had experienced a new beginning. He had found his way home.” Benny paused. “He had a smile on his face. That’s why I know I’ll be all right, just like him. The pain may pull me down, I may not be able to be like I was, but you’ll see me do everything I can to give my smile to the world.”
Just like every other moment with Benny, I was learning. I did not want to see Benny leave, even if death was inevitable. I needed him.
“The past year has been a joy for Ann and me. You have meant so much to us. Not just because you can carry on at Citizens after I’m gone, but also because you filled a void. You’re so much like a son.”
Tears swelled in my eyes. “You have been like a father,” I said. “I can never thank you enough.”
“Are you happy?” Benny asked.
I thought for a moment. My life had changed. I was living a better life. But something remained missing. He knew me. “I want to be with my family,” I said. “I have changed and would give anything to show them I’m different.”
“Where there’s life, there’s hope,” Benny said. “Never give up, Jack.”
“I’m afraid I’ll never be able to show them,” I said.
“Remember our hike up the mountain?” Benny said. “You said you were afraid of heights, but really you were afraid of falling.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Have you gone back to the cliff and looked over the edge?”
I had ventured on that same trail twice, both times with the intent of overcoming my fear and looking down into the gorge. Both times I failed. I told Benny I had not succeeded yet.
“If you allow fear to control your thoughts, you’ll find yourself attached to it,” Benny said. “There’s no one else or anything to blame. It’s a prison you’ve constructed. Letting go of that fear will give you freedom. Letting go is the key. Your family is in your life—it’s just not how you want it to be—now. Let go of the fear and live, Jack. Fate will have its way.”
We sat on the porch for several hours talking. I could see Benny was getting tired. “If you don’t mind, Jack, let’s just sit for a while and listen.” We sat and listened to the sounds around us. Then Benny said, “Let’s go.”
I drove Benny back to his home—safely. Ann met us in the drivewa
y.
“So you brought him back in one piece,” she said, hugging Benny as he stood up after getting out of the car.
“Jack has finally learned to drive,” Benny said.
I walked around the car and hugged Ann.
“Thank you, son,” she said in a low voice. “You made Benny’s journey complete.”
“Thank you for everything,” I said.
I walked to the door and carried the basket of empty containers from our lunch. Ann carried it inside, leaving Benny and me standing at the door.
“Benny, I have a question. How do you thank a person for saving your life?” I asked. “Because that’s what you did. You saved my life.”
Benny looked at me and put his right hand on my shoulder. “All I did was ask some questions. The rest was up to you. You know what to do with your life. Never waste a moment—we are never promised another.”
We hugged. I saw Benny drape his arm around Ann for support as he walked into their home.
It was the last time I saw Benny alive.
Where there’s life there’s hope.
—BENJAMIN FRANKLIN PRICE
42. Why Me?
“WHY ME?” I asked myself.
At work the next day I received a phone call all parents fear. Tina called and said Joshua had been in a car wreck in the early morning rush hour traffic. Joshua and three of his friends had been sideswiped by a tractor trailer while driving to school. His condition was “serious but stable.” He had suffered a broken leg and arm and numerous cuts and bruises. One of the boys in the car, the driver, was killed instantly. He was the only one not wearing a safety belt. Even though the car had been crumpled, the other three had survived. I told Tina I was on my way.
I called Ann from my cell phone and told her what had happened. She said they would be praying for Joshua. She said Benny was very tired but happy that he had gotten to visit the lake. “Thank you, Jack, for everything,” she said. “Take care of yourself and your son. Let us know if there is anything we can do.”
I was fortunate to find a connecting flight from Roanoke to Pittsburgh on US Air and then a shuttle to Philadelphia. I went straight to the hospital. Tina was standing on one side of Joshua’s bed and Jessica was on the other. Jessica moved quickly around the bed and hugged me. I walked toward Joshua’s bed with Jessica under my right arm. Tina stepped back.
“Hey, Joshua, it’s your dad,” I said, rubbing his rumpled hair with my left hand, tears falling off my cheeks.
Joshua, still sedated and barely awake, looked up and smiled, speaking in a whisper, “Hey, Dad.”
“I’m always here for you, Jessica, and your mom,” I said through my tears. I stood at the bed and looked at my son. After standing by his bed until he fell asleep, I stepped into the hall with Tina.
“Thanks for coming, Jack,” Tina said. “It means a lot to Joshua. Believe it or not, he looks up to you. He may not ever admit it, but he’s proud of his father.”
I did not know what to say.
“How is life in the mountains of Virginia?” Tina asked.
I told her about Benny and his condition.
“You really think a lot of Benny, don’t you?” Tina asked.
“He’s like a father to me,” I said.
“Well, I’m glad you have found a friend,” she said.
I stayed at the hospital without leaving for the next three days. Joshua was making a strong recovery. The broken leg and arm were healing. The concern over a slight puncture in one of his lungs was dismissed. The hospital released him, and we took him back home.
Joshua was now suffering a different kind of pain, the death of one of his friends. Even though his injuries kept him in a wheelchair, he wanted to attend the funeral service that afternoon. The attention from his friends seemed to help him in his grief. After we returned home and got Joshua in the downstairs guest bedroom, I asked if he wanted to talk. He did.
“Dad, I feel guilty for Brad’s death,” Joshua said, allowing the first outward expression of loss that I had witnessed since the accident. “Brad never wore a seat belt and always drove too fast. But I got in the car with him and didn’t say anything. I could have made things different.”
“Joshua, you could have tried, but you never know what would have happened,” I said. “He might have listened, or he might have chosen to drive even faster to prove a point. It’s not your fault. You can’t second-guess something. I thank God you’re alive.”
Joshua was crying. I had not seen him cry since he was a toddler. I leaned over and hugged him. “You seem good, Dad,” he said.
“I am,” I said. “I did things before that I’m not proud of. I am trying my best to change.”
“I can tell,” he said. “You look less stressed. Did you need to leave us to feel that way?”
“It wasn’t because of any of you,” I said. “I want you, Jessica, and your mother in my life some way and somehow. I miss you all.”
“We miss you, Dad,” Joshua said.
Joshua had hardly ever called me “Dad.” He had even gotten to the point of calling me “Jack” as if I were an acquaintance. Hearing “Dad” gave me a surge of happiness. I left the room so he could sleep.
Tina was in the kitchen making spaghetti. I offered to help, but she said she didn’t need any. I couldn’t tell if the coldness and harshness in her tone was from near-exhaustion or the anger of having me in her life again, even for a brief time.
“Is it all right if I stay in here and talk?” I asked.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” Tina said.
“You look great,” I said. “Jessica said you were running in a marathon next month.”
“Yes, I’m getting myself back into shape. It’s been tough. You’re looking much fitter, Jack,” Tina added. “What’s your secret? A young girlfriend?”
“No, nothing that expensive. I quit drinking. I haven’t touched a drop in over a year. Along with that, I eat much healthier food. And I have been taking yoga classes to help stretch and relax.”
“Jack Oliver in a yoga class! I would pay to see that!” Tina said, laughing.
“You don’t have to pay—just come and visit me,” I said. “Then you can watch me in the downward dog position.”
“I don’t think I will ever come to Virginia, Jack,” Tina said with her back turned, working on putting the pasta in the boiling water. “Our time has come and gone.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because you wanted it that way,” she said. “You left.”
I was not going to debate the past. I loved Tina with all my heart. I was here with her again, and that gave me hope. I was not going to give up. “If I could have anything in my life, it would be that you would give me one more chance to prove I’m different,” I said. “I love you Tina.”
Tina turned quickly toward me.
“I love you, Jack. But I love me more. You taught me that! You almost ruined me with your career and obsession to get to the top. I can’t handle that anymore. It would kill me trying to go through that again.”
“You would never have to,” I said. “I promise.”
In our entire marriage I had rarely used the words “I promise,” so my using it surprised her.
“You promise?” she asked sarcastically. “That’s easier said than done. I don’t trust you, Jack. You have a lifetime of lies to overcome.”
I wanted to beg, but then I thought back to what Benny had told me. “Let go of the fear,” he had said. It was time to let go of the fear and trust time would heal.
“You’re right,” I said. “I have lived a selfish life, but I have changed. Only time will prove that I’m a better person, a person you can trust. The only thing I ask of you, Tina, is to open your mind to the slim chance that I am telling you the truth.”
“We’ll see,” she said.
That night I slept on the couch in the den, and the inner demons that toyed with me in the middle of the night came to visit. Why had I excused myself from my family? Was it for m
y career, or was there more? I started to think about my mother. The anniversary of her death was a week away. I sat up on the couch staring into the darkness, looking for an answer. I turned on the light and saw my reflection on the darkened television screen. I had changed in appearance. I had changed as a person. But how could Tina see that? I walked into the kitchen to get a drink of water. I saw the calendar on the refrigerator and peered at it. Time was flying by, I thought. Then I saw the name on the calendar I had heard the kids bring up. Charles was his name, Tina’s boyfriend. Evidently she had been planning to go to a concert with him the next evening. I felt like I was prying and opened the door to get a bottle of water. As I shut the door, I saw Tina was in the kitchen.
“Still can’t sleep?” she said.
“I was thirsty,” I said.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said. She ran her hand through her hair to pull it back from her face. She leaned back against the counter and folded her arms. “Are you serious about what you said? Do you really love me?”
“With all of my heart,” I said.
“And you’ve changed?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“I want you to go downtown with me tomorrow, so I can show you something,” she said.
“What is it?” I asked.
“You can wait,” she said, smiling.
“Yes, I can wait,” I said. “And I’ll buy you lunch?”
“Okay, Jack. Goodnight,” she said and turned to go back upstairs.
“So what’s at the museum you want me to see?” I asked, as we walked up the steps into the large entry hall.
“Your mother’s Philadelphia quilt. When was the last time you looked at it?”
“I’ve only seen it once. I was barely a teenager,” I said with shame. We walked without speaking through the exhibition halls. I was following Tina’s lead. We entered a large room with paintings of Philly in the Revolutionary War era. Walking through the exhibit hall, we entered a long, narrow walkway. As we turned a corner there on one entire wall was the Philadelphia Bicentennial Quilt.