Hating the Rich Bastard

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Hating the Rich Bastard Page 12

by Hamel, B. B.


  I try her cell for the hundredth time since last night and it’s right to voicemail. I hang up, chewing my lip, replaying that moment on the couch in my head over and over.

  I always have good intentions. Well… I always think I have good intentions. I was working late on that mix, added some strings, and I really did need Alice’s ear. That’s why I called her.

  But as soon as she was in my apartment, I knew the truth. I called her for more than just advice.

  I called because I want her fucking bad.

  And I know she feels the same. It’s the reason she keeps coming to me, the reason she kisses me, touches me, laughs at my jokes. I see it in her eyes, but last night, for some reason, she ran away.

  I have no clue why. I put my hand on her thigh, looked into her eyes…

  There was something in her face when she left that made me pause. I wish I had chased her right away, but that expression held me off.

  It was sorrow. Pure and simple sorrow.

  I’m worried about her. I’m afraid for her. I hope her nana is okay, that something awful didn’t happen. I want to take care of her if I can, and if I can’t, I want to be there for her at least.

  There’s nothing I can do from here. I pace back and forth while Caleb and Tony start jamming, just to fill the time. I want to leave and track her down but we have the studio and the guys are here. I can’t just ditch out on them.

  “Fuck it,” I say finally after waiting ten minutes. “Let’s get going.”

  Caleb grins and nods as I go and sit down with my guitar. I don’t want to do this, don’t want to play anything without Alice. It feels weird and fucked up to try and play music without her by my side.

  But she’s not here. She ran off on me last night without so much as an explanation and now I have to deal with the fallout.

  “Let’s go through “Backyard”. Tony, count us in.”

  Tony claps his sticks and the music falls down.

  * * *

  “Later, man.”

  Caleb waves and jogs to catch up with Tony. They’re going out for a beer but I’m not in the mood to go with them.

  The session went fine. We put down some tracks for a new song, although I didn’t let Caleb play the piano. We’ll put Alice’s part in when she comes back to the studio, hopefully tomorrow night.

  If she comes back to the studio.

  I check my phone for the hundredth time, but there’s nothing from her. I stand there on the street wondering what to do.

  “Fuck it,” I say out loud and start walking. I grab the first cab I see and give it Alice’s address.

  Fuck it. If she doesn’t want to come to the studio then I’ll go to her. I’m not wasting my damn time with all this bullshit.

  I have to see her. I know it’s probably unhealthy or stupid, and I should give her some space, but I have to know what’s going on. The way she ran out, the look on her face, it’s bothering me.

  I’m not going to lose her over this. If she really does want to keep it professional, we can do that. I’ll try my best, at least. I won’t invite her over late at night and I want try to fuck her after we’re done with a session. I’ll play music with her, collaborate with her, but I won’t touch her body the way I crave.

  Obviously that’s not ideal. I want her and want her fucking badly, but I also want this album to succeed. If the only relationship with her I can have is professional then I’ll take that and make some beautiful music.

  I also want to keep her comfortable. I know she probably wasn’t making much money scrounging around for tuning and teaching gigs, and if we can make this record successful together, she won’t have to worry about money. Frankly, I don’t care if this thing sells much or not, as long as people like it, but that would be huge for Alice.

  I’m already rich. It’d be nice if I could help her get rich, too.

  The cab drops me off outside of her building. I hesitate, standing there, not sure what to do. I’m pretty sure this is a bad idea, but I’m here.

  Might as well take some fucking risks.

  I could easily turn away and go home. I could keep recording this album without her, never face an uncomfortable conversation. The Ben from just a few months ago would’ve probably done that. I didn’t get attached, didn’t let myself get attached. I was floating through life fueled by booze and one-night stands. It was fun, but nowhere near fulfilling.

  This though, whatever I have with Alice, it’s fulfilling. I have to take risks if I want to be alive. Hell, I suddenly want to put myself out there in a way I never have before.

  “Fuck it,” I say again to myself like a mantra.

  I walk up to her building’s door, find her apartment number, and hit the buzzer.

  No response. I hit it again, and again, and again. Finally, the intercom clicks.

  “Uh, hello?”

  “Alice, it’s Ben. Let me up.”

  There’s silence on her end. I stand there staring at the door.

  “I’ll come down,” she says finally. “Give me a few minutes.”

  I step away and pace along the sidewalk. She lives in a crappy neighborhood north of Chinatown, not far from Fairmount Avenue, but on the wrong side of Broad. There’s just not much around here aside from old row homes and the occasional dive bar, plus a few dry cleaners. It’s empty this time of night, and the few streetlamps that are lit glow a dull, pale yellow.

  The door finally opens and Alice comes downstairs. I look at her, crossing my arms.

  “Hey,” she says.

  “Hey, yourself.” I cock my head. “Where were you tonight?”

  “Look, I’m sorry.” She can’t meet my gaze. “I just wasn’t feeling good.”

  “Bullshit.”

  She looks at me, surprised.

  I narrow my eyes at her.

  “Bullshit,” I repeat. “Why didn’t you come?”

  “Really, I wasn’t—”

  “Bullshit. Why didn’t you come?”

  She glares at me. “Fuck you, Ben. What do you know?”

  “I know you’re lying. Why didn’t you come?”

  “I’m not feeling good, okay? I don’t owe you anything.”

  “You’re right, you don’t owe me shit. But I’m trying to give you something anyway, and all you’re doing is pushing it away. So why didn’t you come tonight?”

  She glares at me. “What do you want me to say?”

  “The truth.”

  “You don’t want the truth, okay? I don’t want to say it.”

  “Tell me why you didn’t come tonight.”

  I step toward her. She steps back.

  “Ben,” she warns.

  “Why didn’t you come?” I stare at her, my whole body tense, my eyes piercing into hers. “Why didn’t you come?”

  “Ben,” she says, almost whispering.

  “Why didn’t you come?”

  I stop inches away from her. She’s so fucking beautiful and angry and perfect.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  She says the words so softly that at first, I don’t understand her. I cock my head, go to say something, and shut my mouth.

  “I’ve been meaning to tell you,” she says. “I just… I couldn’t do it.”

  “You’re… pregnant?”

  “I found out a month after that first night we, you know.”

  My eyes go wide. I stare at her, from her belly to her face. “And it’s… mine?”

  She nods once. “I’ve only been with you.”

  “Oh.” The word comes out a whisper. I feel like my whole body is vibrating.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “I kept meaning to tell you, I just didn’t know how, and things went so far, and now it’s all wrong.”

  “That’s why you ran away last night,” I say.

  “I’m sorry, Ben.”

  “You’re pregnant with my baby. And you didn’t tell me.”

  “I’m sorry.” Tears are starting to spring from her eyes. I have the irrational desire to wipe them
away.

  Except I’m furious. I’m furious and confused and excited and fucking sad all at once, an insane and strange maelstrom of emotions flowing through me.

  “Why’d you keep it from me?”

  “I was scared,” she says. “I’m so sorry.”

  “My baby,” I say. “You’re pregnant with my baby, and you… kept it from me.”

  “Ben, I told you now, right?”

  I turn away from her. I can’t look at her, not right now.

  “Ben,” she says, louder now. “I’m really sorry.”

  I want to look back, I really do. I want to look back and tell her it’ll all be okay, it’s okay she didn’t tell me, it’s okay she was scared, it’s okay she lied and took my money and everything.

  It’s okay she’s pregnant with my baby and didn’t tell me about it.

  I want to say it to her. I want to kiss her, hold her. I bet she’s scared and confused, just like me.

  But I’m too angry. I’m too fucking angry.

  I’ve put everything out there, been nothing but honest, and now I find out this.

  I don’t know what to do with it.

  “Ben, wait,” she says, but it’s too late.

  I’m already walking away.

  19

  Alice

  He reacted about the way I thought he would.

  Well, he didn’t yell. I expected some yelling.

  The silence hurt worse.

  There was so much disappointment in his eyes. That’s what really got me, what made me start to cry. He was angry and hurt, of course, but he was also disappointed. Like he expected more out of me.

  I expect more out of me, and I let both of us down. I wish I could explain that to him, but clearly I can’t.

  I don’t sleep well that night. I keep replaying that conversation over and over in my mind. When I finally do get some sleep, it’s fitful and strange. I have dreams that aren’t quite dreams, but more like memories.

  Ben’s smile, his hands on my skin that first night. Playing the song for him, the way he closed his eyes and leaned into it. That first session, that kiss.

  I wake up sweating and have to take a shower.

  When I get out, I feel better. I brush my teeth. I make some coffee. I eat some toast and I sit at my computer and start to look for jobs.

  The gnawing guilt and sadness and confusion that’s been digging at me this whole time is gone.

  I hate to think that it’s a good thing, but it is. I got this off my chest, I told him the truth. Yes, the truth fucking hurt, it fucking hurt us both and I’m an asshole for keeping it from him for so long.

  But I finally did it. I ripped off the Band-Aid and now here I am, still alive, still moving forward.

  What doesn’t kill you, right?

  Except in this instance, what didn’t kill me did take away Ben.

  I don’t hear from him at all. He doesn’t call, he doesn’t text. I don’t go to the session and he doesn’t try to contact me. I spend the day in my apartment, doing nothing but busywork, cleaning the shower, that sort of thing.

  I go to bed. I get some sleep this time.

  In the morning, I look for more jobs. I check my phone, but no calls from Ben. I don’t have the nerve to call him first.

  I pass away the morning like a zombie, going through the motions.

  In the afternoon, I force myself to get dressed and go outside. I can recognize the symptoms, but I can’t name the disease, at least I can’t understand it.

  It’s depression. I know I’m depressed, or something like it. I’m in mourning, maybe, but I don’t know what I’m mourning.

  Maybe the life that could’ve been with Ben if I let myself be honest from the start.

  If I didn’t give in to fear.

  I park at my nana’s care facility and head inside. I walk down the carpeted hallway, through the eerily silent spaces, and knock on her door.

  She’s sitting in her chair, like she always is, and her smile is so genuine that it almost makes me cry.

  “Hi, Nana,” I say, and kiss her cheek.

  “Hi, sweetie. What’s wrong?”

  I force a smile on my face. “Nothing.”

  “Liar. I can smell it from a mile away.” She frowns at me. “You stink like you’re upset.”

  I laugh a little. “Do I really smell?”

  “Of course not, it’s a metaphor. Sit down and tell me what happened.”

  So I do. I sit down and I embrace honesty. I tell her the whole thing, about getting pregnant, about lying to Ben, about telling him two nights ago.

  When I’m done, she smiles at me. “Well, in my day, you would’ve been shipped off to some sanitarium down south so you could have your baby away from polite society.”

  I laugh a little. “Good thing it’s not your day.”

  “Definitely better now. Oh, honey. I’m so sorry this happened.”

  “It’s okay,” I say, even though I don’t believe it.

  I expected Nana to be disappointed, but if she is, she’s not showing it. That’s what I love her about her. Despite everything, she supports me.

  “What are you going to do?” she asks.

  “Have the baby, raise it, love it. I guess I’ll be a mom soon.”

  She nods. “Single mom. Won’t be easy.”

  “I know.”

  “No, you don’t.” She laughs softly. “Your grandfather didn’t do all that much around the house. I had four kids, and I was pretty much a single mom for it all. He brought in money, of course, but… not a lot.”

  I heard stories about my grandfather, but I never knew him.

  “It’ll be hard,” she continues. “Hardest thing you’ll ever do, if I’m honest. But honey, you’re going to love that baby so much it hurts. Even if they all grow up and abandon you or die too young.”

  I frown a little. I can feel the tears again. My father’s older brother died when he was ten, some kind of crazy car accident, and his younger sister died when she was thirty, breast cancer. My only living uncle is out in California and doesn’t seem to give a crap about anyone but himself, just like my father. I don’t know how my nana keeps going forward.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I am so sure.” She reaches out, takes my hand. “It’ll be hard but you’ll love that baby no matter what. I promise you that much.”

  I nod a little bit and laugh. “I try and keep our visits happy, you know.”

  “Life isn’t always happy, kid.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  She smiles and squeezes my hand before letting it go. “So this guy, Ben. He didn’t take it well, did he?”

  “I don’t blame him,” I say quickly. “I lied to him about it for a while and didn’t really break it gently.”

  “Still, it’s his child. He should do the right thing and—”

  “I’m not looking for a husband,” I say, frowning.

  She shrugs. “He still should.”

  I sigh. “I don’t expect that.”

  “Maybe you should expect more, then,” she says softly.

  I look away. Maybe she’s right, but I don’t know. I keep seeing his face that night, so upset, so disappointed…

  “He might come around,” I say, although I’m not sure I even mean it.

  “He might,” she agrees. “But what if he doesn’t?”

  “I don’t know what I’ll do,” I admit. “In my head I keep seeing him appearing at my apartment, telling me he loves me, all that… but it’s not realistic, is it?”

  She smiles a little, sadness tingeing everything. “Life never lives up to our expectations.”

  “I just want one break, you know? I thought I had it with Ben but this pregnancy and the way I handled it…” I shake my head. “I really messed it up.”

  “Listen, honey. You’re strong and you’re smart. You’ve been taking care of me ever since your father ran off, haven’t you?”

  I frown. “I didn’t think you knew.”

  “Of course
I know you’re the one paying my bills. I’m not stupid, and I’ll always love you for it. But you’re stronger than you give yourself credit.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m proud of the woman you’ve become, Alice.”

  “Even though I’m pregnant?.”

  She smiles a little bit. “Well, in my day, that was pretty bad… but it’s not my day anymore, is it?” She shrugs a little bit. “I’m getting more progressive in my old age.”

  I laugh at that. “I suspect you always have been.”

  “Maybe. It’s going to be okay though. Whatever happens, you can handle more than you know.”

  I smile at her, trying hard not to cry.

  “Now,” she says, patting her legs. “Where’s my beer?”

  I laugh and get up. “Coming right up.”

  “And get yourself one too. I think you’ve earned it.”

  “Can’t drink, remember?” I remind her, walking into her kitchen and opening the refrigerator.

  “Oh, please. You can have a little beer. It’s basically all water.”

  She has a point there but I don’t take one for myself anyway. I walk back over to her, opening the can and placing it on the table next to her. She smiles and sips it, probably just to be polite. I’m sure that’ll sit there all day, getting warmer and warmer.

  As I go to sit down, there’s a sudden knock at the door. I hesitate and look at her.

  “Expecting someone?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “Are you?”

  I laugh and walk over to the door. I figure it’s a nurse or an orderly here to give her some medicine or to do physical therapy and she just forgot about it. It’s happened before and it’ll happen again, I’m sure.

  I pull the door open and I stop in my tracks. I stare at Ben, my brain short-circuiting for a second.

  “Hi, Alice,” he says softly.

  “Ben?” I manage to say. “What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you.” His smile broadens. “Guess I found you.”

  “How? What?” I feel nothing but confusion. I remember mentioning this place once but I can’t believe he actually remembers.

  He holds up some flowers, a simple and pretty bouquet. “I came to give you these,” he says.

 

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