Some Assembly Required

by Lex Chase

  “Josie wouldn’t talk to you this morning because she forgot Rainbow Dash at your sister’s last night and you refused to go back and get it,” he said, his voice soft and amused.

  “We were five minutes from home when she realized! I told her to make sure she had everything before we left—”

  Benji could feel the reverberation of Charles’s quiet laughter in his own chest. “And what did she say? She said, ‘I hate you, you’re the worst dad ever.’”

  Kerry scowled at him. “I’m glad that’s funny to you.”

  Charles slid a hand down Kerry’s arm and wrapped it around his fist, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss it lightly. “Yeah, because it cements my status as best dad. Because she only has two, so if you’re the worst….” He grinned when Kerry’s lips quirked into a reluctant smile. “You are her dad. We have adoption papers that prove it. And I’ll be the Blob’s dad, as soon as he’s born and I’ve adopted him. Josie knows she’s ours. It doesn’t matter who her biological dad is.”

  Kerry tapped him on the shoulder with a closed fist. “Don’t call him the Blob. We already picked out his name.”

  Charles’s smile was incandescent. It blew every memory of Charles he had out of the water—he was positive Charles had never been this happy with him. It made his chest ache, both with inadequacy and undeniable jealousy. Who was this guy? Why was he able to make Charles smile like that? Why did he get to have a family with Charles when Benji hadn’t been able to? Why had he been so adamant that he didn’t want kids when he already had one? And why was he so happy to be a dad now?

  The pager in Charles’s pocket lit up and started vibrating. He and Kerry both looked at it and burst out laughing. “Time’s up,” Kerry said ruefully. “It hasn’t been an hour yet. I wonder what she’s done?”

  “Organized an army of tiny minions and tried to overthrow Bambini Mondo, probably,” Charles said with a shrug. He was so laid-back and comfortable in his own skin. It was almost unbearably attractive. “God, they’re going to totally walk all over us, aren’t they? It’s hard enough saying no to her—I can’t imagine we’ll have better luck when there are two of them.”

  Kerry wrinkled his nose. “I can say no. You’re the pushover.”

  Charles smirked triumphantly, and Kerry seemed to realize his misstep a beat too late. “Well, maybe you should be the one to go dole out her punishment, then,” Charles said, pushing the still-buzzing pager into Kerry’s hands. “I’m going to get this one. I’ll meet you down in the warehouse? I wanted to pick up a changing pad.”

  “Get a couple new covers too. I don’t think we kept any of Josie’s,” Kerry said. He leaned in and pressed an easy, proprietary kiss at the edge of Charles’s mouth and walked off.

  Benji was still standing stock-still in the middle of the aisle. People veered around him, the crowd parting like water around a large rock, flowing back together as soon as they’d gotten past him. No one seemed to notice how strange that was.

  Benji was spurred into action when the Impression crept closer, gesturing wildly at Charles when he started writing down the warehouse information on the TRIGNO.

  “Is it him?” Benji asked her, his heart caught in his throat.

  She shook her head, and relief coursed through Benji’s veins. But if it wasn’t Charles—

  He looked down the aisle in the direction Kerry had disappeared. “The other one?”

  She was still wringing her hands, nodding.

  Benji studied the changing table cabinet. It was tall—maybe it fell on him? Or maybe he was killed before it was even assembled. The Impression wasn’t forthcoming with information, which was frustrating. Some of them were too new to talk, and he desperately hoped that wasn’t the case here.

  Though, would it be the end of the world if Kerry died?

  Shame and revulsion fell over him like a blanket. What the fuck was his problem? He was hoping this guy died? Jesus.

  Benji ran a hand over his face roughly. His skin was dry, even though he still felt sweaty. Back to normal, then. Apparently actively wishing for a guy to die wasn’t a strong enough emotion to physically manifest. Good to know, just in case he wanted a future as a serial killer.

  “So the TRIGNO kills Kerry?”

  The Impression hesitated and then shook her head. Her eyes practically bulged out of her head as she shook it violently, urgently gesturing toward Charles, who had finished writing the ticket information and was tucking the sheet and tiny stub of a pencil into his breast pocket.

  If it didn’t kill Kerry or Charles, that left what?

  His stomach dropped.

  “The baby?” he asked, his voice breaking.

  She nodded, her expression as horrified as Benji felt. He couldn’t let that happen.

  “What do they need, anchors?”

  That was pretty common, people cutting corners and not bothering to anchor heavier furniture. It would be a simple fix too.

  She shook her head and mimed something he didn’t understand. The sense of urgency increased when Charles wandered out of the aisle, presumably headed toward the changing pads.

  “Can you talk? What happens? I need details!” He hadn’t meant to shout, since that usually stressed the Impressions out and made them even more useless, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t going to let a baby die.

  She shook her head and ran over to the TRIGNO display. It looked like a fancy bookshelf with a fold-down tray that Benji assumed held the baby. It seemed unstable, but anchoring it to the wall would fix that. It wasn’t like the table-like models next to it, and Benji could see how its aesthetic would appeal to Charles. The rest of them were pretty ugly, but this one looked like a real piece of furniture.

  The Impression knelt down underneath the piece and then stood quickly. She didn’t have enough energy to be corporeal so her head went through the changing table piece, but she fell to the ground and clutched at her temple.

  A chill went through Benji. She was miming her own death. “You hit your head on it after bending down and died?” She nodded. “But the baby won’t be tall enough—”

  She shook her head hard and placed a palm on the flat surface of the changing table, then swung it away in an arc that landed on the floor.

  “Oh God,” Benji said, swallowing hard against the acrid bile that crept up his throat. “Kerry hits his head on the changing table and knocks the baby out of it?”

  He hoped he was wrong. Because as terrible as the baby dying would be, it would be worse if his father was the one who caused the accident.

  But the Impression nodded, her lip quivering and her eyes shining with tears he knew she wouldn’t be able to shed.

  “Did you—”

  She nodded.

  “Both of you?” he asked, his voice cracking.

  She nodded again.

  How awful. And the baby wasn’t here, so it must be on the other side. Waiting, motherless. Jesus Christ. He had to get her over there. She must be in agony.

  This wasn’t an easy fix, though. He wasn’t going to be able to just throw anchors into their cart or nudge Charles toward a different model, since there wasn’t anything else that looked remotely like it. With his aversion to CASA products in general, there was no way Charles would go for a cheaper model that looked, well, cheaper.

  Kerry had said the old changing table had cost some exorbitant amount, which meant it was probably from the fancy furniture store Charles had loved to shop at when they’d been together. Why weren’t they getting the new one there? Benji caught up to Charles, who was tossing several changing pad covers in bright colors into his cart. His clothes were designer, as usual, and immaculately turned out. So money couldn’t be that much of a problem.

  They were probably using a surrogate, which was pretty expensive. Benji had looked into it himself, before he and Charles had gotten into their final blowout over Charles not wanting kids. Maybe that was why they were cutting costs on furniture.

  Still, it was hard to envision Charles all
owing particleboard furniture in his home. He’d made Benji put most of his things in storage when they’d moved in together, after the leg had fallen off Benji’s LECCE coffee table.

  Inspiration struck. He just had to convince Charles that the thing would fall apart. Charles was already predisposed to thinking CASA furniture was poorly made—which it wasn’t, but Benji figured it was okay to exaggerate this once—so all he had to do was make Charles remember that. Give him proof that he’d been right.

  Benji stepped in front of Charles’s cart, and predictably, Charles swerved around him without hesitation. Benji kept leaping in front of him, leading him back to the TRIGNO display. When he finally got him there, Benji concentrated harder than he ever had before, pouring all of his energy into making Charles hear him.

  “Take another look,” he whispered in Charles’s ear. He was close enough to feel the way the short hairs at the back of Charles’s neck prickled up. “Maybe it’s too wobbly.”

  Charles hesitated but then moved toward the display.

  “Should make sure this will hold the Blob when he’s bigger,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head slightly.

  Benji pumped his fist. Victory. He darted over to the TRIGNO and grabbed on to the edge of the changing table lip. He waited until Charles’s long fingers were feeling over the joint and then placed his hands next to his, close enough that Charles shivered.

  Benji clenched his teeth and pulled hard, his biceps shaking with the effort of trying to dislodge the piece. Floor models took a lot of abuse, and this was no exception. It was worn from people jiggling the table part, probably trying to see if it was solid or not.

  Benji fell on his ass, skidding across the floor and knocking into the display behind him. His hands were empty, but a long crack had formed in the lip of the changing table. Charles was staring at it openmouthed.

  “Piece of crap,” he said, shaking his head. “Everything here is junk.” He let go of the table with a huff of disgust. “God, Benji, how could you stand shopping here? You had decent taste in everything else.”

  Benji started but relaxed when he realized Charles was just talking to himself. He didn’t see Benji sitting a foot in front of him.

  He followed Charles down to the warehouse, unable to leave him alone. Did Charles still think about him? Did he miss him?

  Not that it mattered. Charles had obviously moved on, and quickly. Or maybe he’d been with Kerry all along. Maybe Benji had been the affair. But how would that have worked? They’d lived together, for God’s sake.

  Josie and Kerry were waiting at the door to the warehouse. She had sparkly light-up sneakers on and was dancing in circles around Kerry, who had a hold of one of her hands and was twirling her around.

  Kerry looked into the cart. “Those will do nicely,” he said, nodding approvingly at the changing pad covers.

  “Yeah,” Charles said, distracted. “Listen, I changed my mind. The tables up there were rickety. I’m not going to trust them to hold the Blob, especially if he’s half as squirmy as this one was,” he said, reaching down and tickling Josie.

  She shrieked with laughter, and he snatched her up and swung her onto his shoulders. She promptly grabbed him by the ears. “Let’s go!” she giggled, tugging on them.

  He moved obediently, not even looking back to make sure Kerry followed him. Which he did, grabbing the cart and moving after him seamlessly, like it was something they’d done countless times before. They were obviously a close-knit family.

  Kerry and Charles moved around each with an ease that suggested years, not months.

  Which was impossible.

  “What do you mean, you changed your mind? We talked about this, Charlie. Benji doesn’t need expensive furniture that will just get scuffed up and ruined. CASA is fine for the nursery.”

  Benji started at hearing Kerry say his name, but Charles didn’t look surprised at all. It was even more surprising than the fact that Charles was allowing the nickname. God knew he’d given Benji enough trouble about his own. He’d called him Benjamin most of the time, even though Benji thought it sounded pretentious.

  “It fell apart in my hands! What if that happened when Benji’s on it? We can afford something nicer. It’ll be fine,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss on a visibly exasperated Kerry’s cheek.

  Josie laughed again, relinquishing Charles’s ears so she could pat his cheeks. “Kiss Daddy again, Dad,” she demanded.

  Charles obeyed, ducking in again and placing a smacking kiss against Kerry’s cheek this time. Kerry laughed and swatted him away.

  “Fine, you can have your hoity-toity furniture. But we’re still getting these, right? I like them.” He rifled through the cart and pulled out one of the colorful changing pads.

  “Yeah, of course,” Charles said. He ran a finger across the soft fabric, a small smile on his face. “His namesake would have loved this. Garishly colorful and from CASA. This was Benji’s idea of heaven.”

  Benji choked. They were naming their son after him? The last conversation he’d had with Charles had involved him calling Charles pedantic. But it was like that had all been forgotten—Charles sounded fond when he talked about him.

  It was like Benji was a distant memory for him, with all the hard edges and imperfections sanded down. Like he’d been gone long enough that Charles could be generous and remember only the good. The happy times. Like the way he’d teased Benji about his CASA addiction before things between them had degenerated and the barbs had become real instead of jokes.

  Kerry wound his fingers through Charles’s and squeezed, his expression soft and sympathetic. “You’re sure naming the Blob Benjamin won’t be too painful for you?”

  Charles smiled and shook his head. “If this had been five years ago, when we were pregnant with Josie? Yes. If Josie had been a boy, I couldn’t have. But now it feels right. It’s been almost eight years.” He raised their joined hands and kissed Kerry’s hand. “Thanks for letting me. Not every guy would be okay with naming their only son after their husband’s ex-boyfriend.”

  Kerry wrinkled his nose. “I’m not most husbands,” he sniffed. His expression softened again. “And Benji isn’t any ex. He was important to you, and you lost him, even though you weren’t together at the time. And from what I’ve heard about him, he was a great person. The Blob could do a lot worse for a namesake than someone as kindhearted as your Benji.”

  Benji didn’t bother trying to follow them as they made their way to the checkout. He felt rooted to the spot—he probably couldn’t have moved even if he’d wanted to. He felt like he had ice water for blood, burning its way through his veins as his heart pumped it through his body.

  But that was impossible because he didn’t have a heartbeat. Not really. Or blood. He didn’t exist. He’d died. He’d died, and Charles had moved on.

  Five years ago, he’d said.

  Five years ago he couldn’t have named Josie after Benji, but now he could.

  Because Benji had been gone for eight years, and now he was healed enough to hear his name again. Eight years.

  Benji closed his eyes and took a breath, drawing air into lungs that didn’t need to breathe. He searched the store for the familiar tug of Patrick’s energy and pulled on it, popping into the café in a blink. Patrick was sitting there at his usual table, a wary expression on his face.

  “Hey,” he said, drawing the word out. There was a half-finished crossword puzzle on the table in front of him, but the boxes weren’t filled in with Patrick’s chicken scratch. A prop, then. Something to make it look like he hadn’t been sitting there just waiting for Benji.

  “How long have I been here?”

  Patrick winced and tried to cover it with a smile. “Uh, about three seconds? Four, now.”

  Benji slammed his hand against the table. A couple at the table next to them jumped when the salt and pepper shakers rattled.

  “In this CASA. How long have I been here, Patrick?”

  Patrick shrugged. “Karin’s
the one who keeps employment records.”

  Benji clenched his fists and swept one arm out, sending the crossword puzzle to the floor. The couple next to them stood up and left, abandoning their meal with a nervous glance back.

  “Don’t fuck with me. Not about this,” Benji bit out. “How long have I been here? It feels like a couple months, but it’s not, is it?”

  Patrick hesitated and then shook his head. “No,” he said carefully. “Not exactly.”

  Benji blew out a breath through his nose, a bit surprised it didn’t come out as fire. “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know how much time has passed,” Patrick said plainly. “Time does pass differently. I don’t know why, I think it has something to do with the plane we’re on. It intersects with the mortal one, but it’s set apart. Different. A day for us could be a month or more for humans.”

  Benji swallowed. So Charles hadn’t been hiding Josie from him. She hadn’t been born when he’d been alive.

  Patrick reached out but flinched away before he could make contact with Benji’s arm. Smoke rose from his fingers, and he flexed them like he was trying to shake off a sting.

  “Benji—”

  The lights flickered in the café, and the chair Benji had been sitting in fell to the floor with a clatter when he stood up. “Don’t,” he spat.

  Patrick held his hands up and stayed in his seat. “Go talk to Karin. She can answer your questions. She would have earlier, but I asked her not to.”

  That baffled Benji. “You asked her not to? Why?”

  “I—”

  Understanding crashed over Benji as he looked at Patrick’s stricken face. “You didn’t want me to know because you thought I’d leave,” he said flatly.

  Patrick’s eyes slid closed, and he looked more vulnerable than Benji had ever seen him. It tugged at Benji’s heart, but he was too incandescent with rage to succumb to it.

  “Was I ever more than just a game to you? You might be determined to waste your future here, but I’m not. I’m not, Patrick. And you knew that. You knew I’d want to move on, and you lied to me so I wouldn’t.”