He pulls off the highway exiting onto a much smaller, bumpy, potholed two lane road, but his fingers never leave mine. We travel parallel with the highway to our right. Yellow grass and budding bushes give way to an expansive wrought iron fence to the left. The car slows to almost a crawl, Ben exhales, turning into St. Michael’s cemetery. It’s too soon for his grandma’s funeral. I know why we are here. I’m just stunned, he—they’d want me around for their reunion.
Down a twisting dirt path, toward the very back past all the oldest grave markers and stone mausoleums, where the front gate obscures against the horizon, he presses the brake to cut the engine. We sit for a couple of minutes not moving, then Ben cracks his door.
“Should I wait here?” I ask.
Ben strokes my knuckle with his finger. “No,” he says, a distant expression on his face. “I want you to meet my brother.” Even though only the three of us, I suddenly feel underdressed, messy, just altogether unworthy of his invitation. I get out and walk around the car where he meets me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder as I lean my head on his, holding out my hand to Collin. I feel like such an intruder. The closer we step to the grave, the more my heart breaks from the unfairness of this damn situation. I love and miss a man I’ve never met because two of the closest people in the world to me love and miss him so fiercely.
We stand before the well maintained headstone. Its polished finish shines like glass. Andrew Hayes. He was only twenty. His life never had a chance to start. Beloved son and brother. There’s the feeling of a vise tightening around my heart as I look from Ben to poor Collin. Son and brother. Not one mention of Collin. Not one mention of love. I hear a light sob and turn back to see my poor, poor Ben with his red, puffy eyes and downpour of tears. He wipes at his face. But they don’t need to worry about feeling self-conscious, so I step back, giving them space. For some reason, maybe because they just aren’t programmed to show emotion like women, it’s so much more difficult for me to see a man cry. Collin hunched over, his hands on his knees bracing himself like he just had the wind knocked out of him, is almost too much to see. Ben closes the gap between the two of them, hugging his friend. A real honest hug shared between two people who’ve lost so much. They step back by the car not even really talking. I turn away. They deserve to grieve without an audience. So I do what Ben wanted. I walk over to the headstone and introduce myself.
“I’m Elle,” I whisper. “Ben thought we should meet.” I find myself swiping at my eyes too. I imagine him kissing my hand and telling me I must be special for his little brother to bring me around. God, what right do I even have to think so selfishly? “Your brother and Collin are pretty wonderful,” I continue. The energy I feel in the air as I speak has me wondering if Andrew isn’t here with us right now. “I wish there was more I could do to help them, but I’m afraid losing you is beyond my skills. They don’t know, but I don’t exactly deal with stress too well…Here I go, making it about me again. Sorry.” Why am I opening up to a dead guy? He wasn’t my priest, therapist, bartender, or hair dresser. He wasn’t even my friend. I wish he had been my friend. I wish I had a right to grieve him too. “Anyway, I just want you to know that I’m looking out for them. But if you wouldn’t mind, try to maybe visit in a dream. Tell Ben you’re proud of him. Tell Collin Kip’s a good guy. I know it’s a lot to ask, but please…please do this for them.”
Something flits my hair against my neck. “Fuck!” I scream, arms flailing, and stumble backward into the marshy grass, totally soaking my butt in mud. Great. It’s Ben. Ben’s hand, more pointedly. Amid all the sadness, I laugh. Fall over, knee slapping laughter. The guys laugh too. The tension breaker we all need.
“Jesus. Clear your throat or something,” I half scream and swat at him. But Ben folds his fingers between mine, effectively pulling me up into his arms. “You scared the crap out of me, by the way…we’re in a fricking graveyard.”
Ben’s not laughing anymore though. “Thank you,” he says. The deep timber of his gratitude sends a shiver through my entire body.
“For what?”
He shakes his head. “Just—thank you.” Then presses his forehead against mine. With one hand around my waist and the other cupping the bare skin around the nape of my neck, I’m pulled closer, my eyes closing as our lips brush together. “Drew would’ve high-fived me over you, you know.” I highly doubt that. “Then he would’ve leaned in and said something like, your eyes are far too pretty to have to stare at my ugly mug every day.”
“Oh, come on. He would not ha—” I don’t get to finish. Ben’s lips cover mine. I fall into him, his arms. God help me, I’ve fallen for him. Loving the man holding me. Loving him with all my heart. But right now, I’m a distraction. He needs to support his best friend. He needs to talk to his brother. Although so hard, so hard, I put enough space between us for him to realize what I’m doing. When he smiles at me, I swear the sun peeks through the clouds a little.
They stay out by Andrew’s grave for almost an hour while I sit in the car, giving them their space. Eventually I see Ben kiss his hand and pat the headstone, a sweet gesture, really, then he joins me inside the front seat. Collin takes a little longer, but I would stay all night if he needs it. When he does climb in back, he wears a tortured, yet almost relieved expression.
“You know,” I say as Ben starts the car, “Kip is wonderful, he’s genuine, and is full of a lot of love.” Collin whips his head up, his wide eyes drilling me. Shit. I’ve overstepped. Again.
“She’s right, Col. He’d want you to be happy. My brother loved you—fuck he loved you.” Ben pounds the poor steering wheel with the palm of his hand. Things are starting to get way too serious again.
The strain in his voice is thick, coated with pain when he asks, “Aren’t you mad at me? How can you stand it knowing…knowing I’ve been unfaithful to Drew? He deserved better, and I couldn’t take losing you. I won’t survive it.”
“Damn it, Col. You could never lose me and you’ve never been unfaithful to my brother. We’ve been over this. Andrew was a real person. He was a real person who made you feel loved and happy and healthy and whole. Andrew’s not here anymore. Kip is. Kip is here and he has the same qualities. He does the same for you, if not better because of where he’s at in his life. Accept his love. Accept it and be happy, because, brother, we have one shot at life, and all I want is for you to be happy. You deserve it. No matter what those bigots back home think, you deserve it.”
“I, uh, think I’d like to visit my grandma. Could you drop me off at the nursing home?”
Although gray still colors the sky, the rain has stopped. The potholes become fewer and farther between. Yellow grass and budding bushes eventually fall away to reveal houses and cars and children outside playing. After we drop Collin off at his grandmother’s nursing home, we check in at the hotel. Check in only takes a few minutes, so I wait in the car. Ben comes out of the lobby with a key card in hand. He drives around the back to park. Room 112.
Carrying both our bags into the room, Ben holds the door open for me like a gentleman. Typical maroon carpeting, off-white textured walls, maroon comforters covered with white, yellow, and red wild flowers. Pretty standard two star hotel, but we aren’t here for luxury. I kick off my shoes, spreading myself across the bed farthest from the door. It feels pretty good to lie down. That’s when Ben drops down next to me and my heart begins to race. We’ve just spent over an hour at a cemetery to visit his dead brother because he has come home to bury his grandmother, so my reaction to him is probably inappropriate. Yet another way to fail. What can I say? It’s my superpower.
“I couldn’t get through this without you,” he says.
“You have Collin. He’d have helped.”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I need you. I need you.” Ben rolls over, pinning me against the mattress. His lips sink to the crook of my neck. Beautiful warmth sweeps over my body as he drags his teeth along my skin. Pleasure from those stinging bites isn’t something I’
ll soon forget. And he roams everywhere, exposed skin and even through my clothing.
It’s everything. He’s everything. “Go ahead,” finally I’m able to tell him. “Just—don’t look at my thighs.” Even without the lights on, the room carries enough natural light seeping through the curtains to illuminate the past I’m still not ready to share. He agrees with his actions, pulling my shirt up over my head. His lips scorch every bare patch of skin from my forehead, slowly working his way down, nipping and circling my navel with his tongue. I become one raw nerve of excitement. He glances up at me through his long eyelashes and I nod my consent, too captivated to even answer out loud. His hands wander, finding the button on my pants, then I hear the zip. Good to his word, he never once looks to my thighs.
Ben moves his mouth back up my torso, hovering above my breasts where he pulls one out of the cup of my bra, sucking and biting and twisting my nipple. “Oh god, Ben…” I moan, letting my legs fall open. He walks his fingers under my cotton panties, locating that little magic fun button quite quickly. Benton alternates between sucking on my bottom lip and my nipple while sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. I arch my back as he presses and tugs. “Ohgodohgodohgod Oh god!” I whisper-scream, trying desperately to keep the volume in check. So the neighbors don’t pound on the wall. So we don’t get a nasty phone call from the front desk. My breath catches and slows to a more even pace.
“Glad I could be of service,” he breaths into my hair. Me too. “Think you got another round in you?” He brings his fingers up to his mouth, sucking the tips. It’s sexy as hell to see him tasting me, enjoying me the way he is. Instead of answering, I guide his strong hand from his mouth to the leg of my panties, folding my hand over his to grip the fabric.
What the fuck am I doing? How can he get my capris off, my panties off without looking? He has to feel the erratic change in my heartbeat, because he stops. I squeeze his hand tightly enough to leave little fingernail indentations. What’s wrong? he mouths. “Please don’t look at my thighs.” Then the tightness in my chest shifts to pain, that familiar heart attack pain of a panic attack. I try to breathe through it. Wishing like mad I had my pill bottle. I’m a god dammed freak. A hyperventilating freak.
“Hey, Brontë…it’s okay.” He strokes my hair like I’m a child. “We don’t have to. It’s light. You don’t like the light.”
“I…want to…” I tell him between pants.
“Doesn’t look like it.” But then it is like he suddenly understands. Ben places his hand over mine, leading it back to the problematic fabric between us. “I will focus on your eyes,” he says. I nod. He maneuvers my hands to do all the undressing. The tightness in my chest filters away, taking with it my erratic breathing. Before I have the chance to back out on him, I’m lying naked beside a man who has never taken his eyes off mine. And he brushes the tip of his nose up my jawline, breathing in deeply. “I lo…” He doesn’t finish, instead pressing a commanding, utterly delicious kiss to my lips.
Ben is solid. I feel his presence hovering above me. Even hard and ripped and strong, his touch is gentle enough for our bodies to mold, to fit against one another, easing my legs around his hips. And from there my mind explodes, ripping my consciousness from my body into some pleasure galaxy that couldn’t have been discovered yet by anyone else. Not even the Hubble telescope. Rocking and moaning. Pushing and moaning. Pulling and moaning. Kissing. Biting. Heat. Heat. Heat. Beautifully building. I open my eyes to shouting, realizing too late that it’s me doing the shouting. Ben smiles down at me. “You closed your eyes,” he says, brushing a couple loose strands of hair off my face.
Right here, in an average hotel room in Southern Indiana, I lose my heart. Forever. Whatever happens to it now is completely out of my hands. “I—uh—should—uh—shower. We have to…” I do not want to finish that sentence. Not after the sheer perfectness of our time here together. But we are here for a purpose. His mother hadn’t called as soon as it happened. She’d waited until the day of the viewing to call. Ben insisted it was his father’s doing. That man sounds as bad as Cricket.
It never even occurs to me that I should cover myself up when I walk out of the bathroom wrapped in nothing but a white terrycloth towel hanging only halfway down my thighs. Ben won’t look. I trust Ben not to look. But Ben isn’t alone.
“Hey la—oh my god!” Collin’s words freeze me where I stand. Please don’t finish. Please don’t finish. “What the hell happened to your legs?” And then I see Ben’s eyes dart from Collin to me and back guiltily. I run back into the bathroom choking down sobs, not emerging again until I’m fully dressed, fully dressed from head to toe in black. The only skin showing from my hands and face. I walk out to the car without making eye contact with either of them. Now he knows how ugly I am. They both do. How I could never be Kelly or Zena or Sabrina or any of them. As I sit in the back, both Ben and Collin climb in the front seat, neither attempting eye contact with me either. I think I catch a hint of repulsion in the air though. My eyes are already puffy by the time we reach the funeral home. Cars pack the parking lot. We are directed to pull up into the front of the procession where they flag the rental that only Collin and I will be riding in. Ben is expected to ride in the limo with his family.
Chapter 43
Elle
Attention turns to the pariahs the moment we step into the salon. Eyes pitch uncomfortably toward us, zeroing in on each step we take. Where will we sit? Will we attempt to speak? Their small town contains a whole lot of ugliness. Seems I’ve finally found a place to fit in, just for the wrong reasons. My heart hurts so badly to think of these two beautiful souls suffering because of that ugliness. We walk to seats in the very last row. I nudge Ben to go up by his parents. He shakes his head. Both men look respectable, beautiful, yet once we sit, no one bothers to even look at them but me. Ben’s hands stay folded in his lap. I think about taking them, holding them, but I repulse him now. So I don’t.
The ceremony lasts about an hour. Even though he clearly doesn’t want me anymore, my job is to make sure he survives as best he can for someone burying his grandmother. So I stay close to him, to both of them, like a protective mother bear just waiting for some redneck hunter to aim their heated words at my cubs. But no one does. Eventually, the men look upon and talk to Ben’s grandmother, and I find myself standing in front of the beautifully ornate open casket of a woman I’d never met. An old friend from school comes over to talk with the guys so I stay where I am, giving them time. Space.
Death. Dead. Death scares the shit out of me. I’d spent too much time around the dying a couple of years ago. Today isn’t about me, so I swallow back my fears and introduced myself. “Hello,” I say to her. She, of course, doesn’t answer. “I’m Elle—Ben’s, well—I’m a friend of Benton and Collin…He’s taking it all pretty hard. Being back here. I uh, went to meet Andrew this morning. If he’s there with you—awe fuck it!” Someone gasps. That’s when I feel the heat of several sets of eyes branding their ugliness onto my aura. Something I’ll never escape. Superpower go boom. I look around to tell Ben or Collin that I’ll be waiting in the car, but neither of them are anywhere near me. I don’t know where they’ve gone.
The hallway is empty, but there are raised voices coming from an adjacent salon. I shouldn’t peek. I shouldn’t listen. But I do and do. Ben’s back is to me. An older man with graying hair, only slightly shorter and wider in an expensive looking black pinstriped suit, seemingly bereft of any glad tidings toward Benton is only inches from him, pointing his finger at his chest. “You brought him here? What the fuck are you thinking?” The man, presumably his father by the matching eyes and nose bump, yells at him. A woman with Ben’s cheeks and mouth and hair color stands off to the side crying.
“Don’t start. Not here,” Ben says calmly, much more calmly than I’d be with someone’s finger touching me.
“Please, Benny, please try to get along…” The woman’s tears run harder. She steps forward to hug him, but he steps asid
e, letting her stumble a foot out in front of her.
“I came here for Grand, not you. I’ll be leaving in the morning.” That’s when he turns to leave, so I duck back out of sight. I really wish I would’ve just left right then.
“What’s the point of the entourage then?” the man spits. “The fag and the hag?” What did he call me?
“What did you call her?” Ben says. At least there’s a tightness to his voice.
“A hag. You know…those fat, ugly ones who hang with the fags because no real man would be seen in public with them. She must have attached herself to your friend there?” I hear Ben breathing. I hear his mother crying like a lunatic. What I don’t hear is Benton come to my defense. He promised he’d never reject me, promised he’d protect me against words or actions. That was before he saw my thighs. I begged him not to look at my thighs. Because no real man would be seen in public with me. Because I’m fat. Because I’m ugly. Because I played a nasty game of Russian roulette and just shot myself through the heart.
I have to get out, leaving the funeral home along with Ben and Collin behind. Walking. I walk, needing something to occupy myself. The March cold starts to settle in my bones once the sun begins to set. There’s a big green and white BP sign a few blocks up. The hag walks. Because no real man would be seen in public with her. I step inside the convenience store to warm up.
The cashier is handing back change to a woman. “Excuse me,” I ask her. “Is there a bus station nearby? And maybe a Western Union?”
Other Side of Beautiful (A Beautifully Disturbed #1) Page 21