His Name was Ben

by Paulette Mahurin

  Chapter Nineteen

  Back at his place, Sara turned on her cell phone and saw she had several messages from Rosalie. Disgust swelling under her skin, “My mother’s in a tizzy,” she gave Ben a look. Dealing with her was the last thing Sara wanted to contend with but she knew the longer she waited the worse it would get. Just the thought of Rosalie’s reaction made her scalp tighten into what was sure to become a headache. After such a great time with Ben, why this?

  First Sara got in touch with Ellen to see how Tazzie was and how much damage control might be needed. “Did you talk to her?”

  “What do you think? How many times can one person ask, ‘Is she home yet’?”

  Pressure built in Sara’s temples. “What did you tell her?”

  “Not much. Just that you were with a very supportive friend who lived near UCLA, and who would take you for your treatment tomorrow.”

  “Oh no!”

  “What? What’d I do wrong?”

  “I’m here and didn’t go to see them.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” Ellen’s voice cracked. “I’m so sorry, Sara. I didn’t know what to say. I forgot that your parents live close to UCLA. Your mother’s going to have a hissy fit. Oh crap, Sara, I…”

  “Oh crap, is right.” Sara saw the puzzled look on Ben as he opened a window to let in fresh air. “I should have called her earlier.”

  “Why don’t you tell her your cell went dead?”

  “No, I don’t want to keep lying. Plus, where can anyone go that there’s not a telephone?”

  “I feel bad.”

  “El, it’s not your fault. I’m not mad at you.”

  “Okay, good luck.”

  Ben sat next to her, watching her stare at her closed phone, and waited for what she had to say.

  “I just have to do it.”

  “It’s really that bad?”

  “It might be,” Sara grabbed his hand. “I’ll find out soon enough.”

  “Hang strong, kiddo.”

  Sara gazed around the hotel room at the upbeat lush furniture. Feeling the soft cushion of the latex bed beneath her and being in this lavish comfort, she wished she could just enjoy it with Ben and not have to confront the detour through hell with Rosalie. As sure as the clock would tick the next moment, for now the fun time with him would take a backseat. Sara heard the muffled laughs of people coming out of the theater across the street intermingled with the sound of ringing up her mother. If only we were out there instead of… “Mom, hi.”

  Urgency, beyond called for, “Where are you?” screeched through the line.

  “I’m with a friend.”

  “I’ve been phoning all day.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. We’ve been on the road.”

  “Road? You have a cell phone, Sara!” Bitter sarcasm curdled in her outburst. “You with that man? Don’t tell me you’re with that man.”

  Sara wanted to spit out the sour taste. “Mom, please listen to me for a minute. I met him at Dr. Zimmerman’s office. He’s another cancer patient.”

  “What! You haven’t got enough taking care of yourself you have to take this on?”

  Ben, hearing the antagonism vibrate from the phone, drew a hand slash across his neck, indicating to get off if it was upsetting.

  Sara motioned back a stop with hers. She was pissed off and roared, “Mother! I’m the one with cancer!” The dam had burst and what came forth was more than restrained communication; it was years of lacking what she’d needed and a plethora of hurt shoved down her throat. “I met Ben, yes, his name is Ben, and I care about him.” Lowering her voice, “I’m happy with him. I haven’t felt like this in years. It’s good for my healing. It’s what I need.” Seeing Ben smiling and giving her a thumbs up, “I want your acceptance. But I’m a grown-up and if you can’t support me, then maybe we should consider taking a breather.”

  “That would kill your father!”

  Sure that her mother’s carrying on and insensitivity to both of them was doing greater harm than anything she could ever dream of, and fed up with the manipulative histrionics, “You think yelling that now, at,” she noticed the clock, “nine at night is going to help him?”

  Rosalie went silent.

  “Mom, I love you. And I love dad, but I have to live my life, whatever I have left. I don’t know if the treatment will work. There are no guarantees with any of it and what I don’t need is to have to deal with your accusations and anger every time we communicate.”

  Something Sara said got to her mother and the dramatics stopped. “You said that the treatment was working?”

  Rare as it was, hearing the genuine distress from her mother was a relief. “I’m not out of the woods yet. I have another treatment tomorrow.” Sara looked at Ben. “Would you like us to stop by after?”

  “Both of you?”

  “Yes, mom.”

  Ben nodded approval.

  “I’ll see you then.” With that Rosalie hung up.

  Sara rubbed her temples to release the tension, glad that it hadn’t turned into a migraine. “Oh man,” she gestured to her phone, “how can such a small little object bring so much intensity.”

  Thinking of his own family dynamics, he let out a nervous laugh. “Don’t blame the phone.”

  “Throwing blame there is safe.” Still pensive, “I’m glad that’s over.”

  Ben wanted to get her attention off the conversation. “How about you lie down?”

  “You in the mood?”

  “Yes,” he laughed, “but that’s not what I had in mind right now.” He went to sit at the end of the bed, took off her shoes, and started massaging her feet. “I’m glad it worked out okay with your mother.”

  “Me too. I hate that she’s so difficult but I need her, Ben. I need a mom. Personally, I think everyone does.”

  “I know what you mean.” He felt the texture of her soft sole rippling under his fingers.

  The movement on her ankles was just right. “Ooh, that feels so good.” Closing her eyes, “It hasn’t always been easy for her. I don’t know what I’d do if I had a son like…” She truncated saying, Like crazy Jack. As his fingers moved in circles, she drifted off. A big fat man blundered down a long corridor, his mouth frothing as he made his way to the baby.

  “You don’t like to talk about your brother, do you?”

  “Huh?” Sara looked up at Ben. “I must have fallen asleep. What’d you say?”

  “I asked about your brother.”

  “Actually, I don’t know much about him.” What was lurking below her awareness was the impact of a schizophrenic brother, a mother steeped in avoidance, and a father spending too much time away from home. When it was discovered that Jack was mentally ill, she was ostracized and humiliated by the kids in school. Her answer to being blackballed was to lose herself in sex. Promiscuity at sixteen cemented the memory block about her brother.

  “Really?” Increasing the pressure on her left foot, she jerked back. “A sore spot?”

  “Yeah, I’m probably holding onto a blob of stress.” As he worked a circular motion with his thumb, she stopped flinching. “Not sure why, but I have trouble remembering things regarding Jack. I have a few fuzzy ideas of him being in the house. Nothing specific. One day he just disappeared. From time to time, he pops back in at my parents’ unannounced. It used to be more frequent. Dad thinks it’s because he’s on his medications.” A stricture of sorrow welled up in her chest. “I think it’s ’cause they don’t like him. My mom’s ashamed she has a crazy son. My dad can’t handle it.”

  “Any idea where he is now?”

  “Last thing we heard about him was a phone call that he was found in Colorado on a park bench by two police officers who brought him to an emergency room. He was admitted to a medical ward to get his diabetes and hypertension under control and then he was transferred to the psych ward.”

  “How’d you find out about that?”

  “Jack has my parents’ phone number in his wallet as an emergency co
ntact. The psychologist on his case phoned them.”

  Seeing tears oozing from her closed eyelids, Ben asked, “Something you wanted to say?”

  “I worry about the impact Jack has on my father’s health. I’m sure his heartache over how he turned out played into his heart attacks.”

  Concerned about adding more stress to the equation, “Do you think it’s wise to bring me around to meet your parents? It might be too much for your father.”

  “I think it will be okay. He’ll see I’m happy. Can’t be sure of anything with Rosalie, but my dad’s a good guy.” She wiggled her toes, “That was a great massage,” and opened her eyes to a troubled expression on Ben’s face, and for the first time noticed the traces of yellow on his skin. “That’s enough talk about my family.”

  “You are looking better now,” he admitted.

  “Thanks to you. But seriously, Ben, I just want to be with you. Whatever happens with my parents will work itself out. I hope you feel the same.”

  “Sara,” he leaned in to kiss her. “Does that answer work for you?”

  “I’m not sure. You’ll have to try it again,” she laughed.

  As his tongue parted her lips promising what was to come, she ran a hand down his back, and around to his hardness, drinking in the freshness of his flesh—lines of muscles formed and flat in all the right places—moving in delicate rhythm with hers. They took their time riding over the edge to satisfaction.

  “That was lovely,” she purred.

  “Um-hum.”

  Snuggling into her, the pulsing of his hand on her thigh vibrated aliveness. Raising it to her mouth, she moved her lips over the soft creases on his palm and kissed his fingers. A while passed before finally asking him, “How come you’ve never been married?”

  “Mostly I just never found the right one. And circumstances…” Ben explained that he was with someone, a model ten years younger. They were together for over four years when she cheated on him. He found out piece by piece, like in a bad movie, “with receipts for men’s clothing items that weren’t for me, a theater ticket I hadn’t gone to see with her, nor had her friends.” On confronting her, she told him she’d stayed with him for security but the passion had long gone out of the relationship.

  “That’s awful. How long ago was that?”

  “Long enough. What about you? You’ve been married. What happened?”

  She gave him the short version of life and betrayal with Henry. “Appears we both have trust issues. Ben…”

  “Yes, I’m here,” he laughed.

  “Do you feel safe with me? I mean do you trust me?”

  “You’re adorable.”

  She nudged him with her right elbow. “Come on. Answer the question.”

  His underarm perspiration increased. “You know men don’t like these kinds of conversations.”

  Knowing they had a lot to lose by not facing their insecurities, being honest and upfront with each other, “Ben, this is important. This is what was bothering me earlier in the car ride. It’s not easy for me to feel secure.”

  “Trust isn’t something you can just talk about, Sara.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It takes time to develop. We’re in a honeymoon phase and due to our circumstances might never leave it, which would work for me. I hope that’s the case.” He didn’t want to continue; it felt too heavy, serious.

  Sensing there was more, “What? Tell me.”

  “I just don’t know how either of us will feel about anything tomorrow. That’s what my ex taught me. But it’s not just from that. I see how people are. I’m jaded about trusting in something forever. I can’t help it.” There was more, much more, but not now. Maybe never. He hated even thinking about the abuse from his father and the impact it had on how he felt about relationships.

  “Do you think we might be able to learn to trust each other; to find out if it’s safe to be authentic and open up?”

  “It’s an interesting idea but how do you make that happen? I don’t see any way. No easy switch to flip on and there you are.”

  “I think I do.”

  “How?”

  “We honor our word, don’t say something just to create an effect in the other, be honest but sensitive, and stay open to conversation. How’s that sound?”

  “It’s a tall order,” he smiled.

  “Come on!” She whacked his arm.

  “Enough talking. Come here.” He drew her in with a kiss that moved down her body.

  “Answer the question,” she cooed.

  “Let’s just see how things go,” as his lips and tongue found places that sent her into another dimension.

  Chapter Twenty

  That night Sara slept fitfully as haunting images whirled around her psyche of the fat terrible monster and the frantic baby. He removed the blanket and grabbed hold of the baby’s kicking leg. The big man’s distorted face kept changing like a kaleidoscope until it morphed into someone who looked familiar. Sara moaned and turned into Ben, feeling the smooth texture of his skin on hers as she drifted off. When they awoke, the nightmare was forgotten.

  Later that day, while Sara was getting treatment, Ben phoned his brother and brought him up to speed.

  “You’re sure about this?” asked Michael.

  “Yes, she’s different than anyone I’ve been with. It feels right.”

  Hearing the cheerfulness in Ben’s voice, “Well, you do sound good. Can’t fault that.”

  “Thanks, Mike.”

  Sara and Ben made their way through Beverly Hills on Wilshire Boulevard, where the Beverly Wilshire Hotel is located. The site was strewn with memories for Sara. She and her girlfriends hung out there, shopping, eating, and walking around people-watching. So did her brother Jack.

  She was just a teenager out with a couple of friends when she ran into him walking alone with a Cuban cigar in his mouth, ranting a boisterous sermon.

  “Look at that fat guy talking to himself,” Sara’s friend Mattie said loudly enough for him to hear.

  Agitated and uncertain of what to do, Sara ignored him as he approached.

  Janis, the other girl with her, shrieked, “You can smell him from here.”

  Sara’s throat seized when he looked right at her, and she prayed he wouldn’t say anything.

  Pointing the cigar towards Sara’s face, “Well, look who’s here,” he gave a slow once over to the other two. “And who are these sexy ones?”

  Heart pounding, Sara took hold of Mattie, “Let’s go!”

  Jack latched onto Janis’ sweater, pulling her to him. “Take your hands off me!” she struggled to get free.

  His eyes went vacant as he babbled unintelligible sounds into thin air. “Did you hear that?” He grabbed hold of her butt. “She wants me.”

  Janis broke loose and yelling at the top of her lungs, “Help!” She instantly drew a crowd.

  Jack was taken to the Beverly Hills police department and held for sexual battery of a minor. The charges were later dropped when it was determined he was schizophrenic, and had not been taking his medicine. He was then readmitted to the mental facility he’d been in and out of since Sara was a baby. On finding out he was Sara’s older brother, the girls’ families forbade them from associating with her. Sara was bullied and shunned as rumors spread through their junior high school, and for weeks she came home in fits of hysterical crying. It threw her into a depression. Rosalie was driven further into herself, incapable of showing any affection. Sara’s attempts to hug her mother were met with, “For Christ’s sake, leave me alone.” Irving drowned himself in work until years later he had a heart attack, but by then the family was broken.

  With Ben, Sara’s heart was opening and raw emotions threatened to detonate at the slightest provocation, ungluing this incident and others hidden by amnesia.

  As they continued down Wilshire Boulevard on their way to her parents, Sara was reminded of that earlier time with Jack. Why is this coming up now? Resisting the repulsion of the shame and
embarrassment made her feel sick to her stomach. The image from the last nightmare surfaced and she remembered the fat man’s face. It was Jack’s! Am I that baby? Oh my God! Just as sure as her intuition spoke, so did the doubt. No, it can’t be. Stop plaguing me! Damn it!

  The longer she remained quiet, the madder she became. Why now! Leave me alone! She wanted to light a match and burn the image of Jack out of her mind. What do you want from me! Go away! By the time they passed the Beverly Wilshire Hotel, the tension in the car was palpable.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Ben. When Sara didn’t respond, he pulled over on to a side street. “We don’t have to go there.” He turned the ignition off and waited.

  Feeling Ben’s attention on her, confused images from her dreams surfaced and she didn’t know what to do. What’s going on? Why is Jack coming up now? Did you do something to me, Jack? Trying to push it out of her mind was of no use.

  Stay quiet. It’ll pass. She’d learned from her mother that being high maintenance was repelling. I hate the shit my mother spews around and I sure as hell am not going to dump this on Ben. I won’t put him through that. I won’t risk worsening his condition. Who the hell wants to be around that crap anyway? Breathe. She calmed enough to barely utter, “No, it’s okay. Let’s go.”

  “Sara, it’s obviously not okay. Talk to me.”

  “I can’t.” The young girl inside her was afraid once again of losing what mattered. No longer was her crazy brother a topic of impersonal conversation, something her parents had to deal with—now it was visceral. I don’t want to lose you, Ben.