Point Pleasant

by Wood, Jen Archer

The red glow of the digital clock beside the bed reminded Ben that he needed to leave soon. He turned to the closet. Andrew’s ceremonial uniform was tucked away inside a black garment bag that reminded Ben all too much of the body bag he had watched his mother disappear into after the coroner declared her dead on the Wisehart’s perfectly manicured front lawn.

  Ben pulled the hanger from the rail, shut the closet, and left the room. He draped the uniform on the bannister in the hallway and headed to the bathroom for a shower.

  Ben parked in an empty space in front of Duvall’s. Nicholas leaned against the side of the building in a pair of jeans and a navy blue henley under his gray coat. Ben was struck with a fleeting impression of James Dean on the poster for Rebel Without a Cause.

  “Don’t say a word,” Ben said as he climbed out of the car.

  “It’s a very pretty car, Ben,” Nicholas said, smirking.

  “Shut up.”

  “Hey, we’re in public, Wiseass. And I’m still the sheriff.” His tone was dry but full of playful mocking, and Ben admired the sly glint of amusement in the other man’s eyes.

  “Sorry. I’ll work on that. Shall we go inside?”

  Duvall’s was as busy as it had been on Ben’s first night in town. Things really have picked up, Ben thought as he followed Nicholas to a booth in the back. He slipped into one of the seats. Nicholas waited until Ben was situated before he slid in on the side of the table that had a view of the diner’s entrance.

  “Hey, so what’s the story?” Ben asked, leaning closer.

  “Story?”

  “I assume you lifted the curfew,” Ben said and gestured to the other patrons. “What did you tell everyone?”

  “Ah,” Nicholas replied. “That was Silas. Big meeting yesterday afternoon.” He cleared his throat when Keith approached to take their orders. Nicholas waited for Keith to leave before he continued. “Silas told everyone that he accompanied us into the forest and could confirm that the ‘Mothman’ had been shot and killed right in front of him.”

  “Us?” Ben asked with a hint of apprehension.

  “Yeah, he made sure to mention you were there. Upon my urging.”

  “Your urging?”

  “I don’t want to have to lose my temper because some fuckshit tries to blame you for the town’s bad luck again,” Nicholas replied coolly.

  Ben ran a hand through his hair. “So, what, no more angry mobs with pitchforks?”

  “We can only hope,” Nicholas replied with a wry smirk. “But who knows? You’re still the city boy, after all. With your fancy phone and car to match.”

  Ben knew it was meant to be a joke, but he found little humor in the observation.

  “Hey,” Nicholas said and bent forward over the table. “You know I didn’t mean it badly.”

  “So everyone just believes Stewart?” Ben asked, subsiding against his seat. “They didn’t ask to see the body?”

  “He said we burned the body. For health and safety reasons,” Nicholas explained, his words rushed. “Don’t be mad at me for a bad joke.”

  “I just don’t think everyone wanting the city boy to go back to where he came from is especially funny.”

  “You’re right,” Nicholas said, frowning. “That was insensitive.”

  Mae brought their drinks and offered a courteous nod. “Evening, boys.”

  Ben noticed how much more reserved she seemed when Nicholas was around. He tried on a timid smile. “Hey, Mae.”

  “Hey, honey,” Mae said, returning the smile before she headed back to the kitchen.

  Ben glanced to Nicholas and found the other man was watching him with plaintive eyes.

  “Arrest anyone today?” Ben asked.

  “Yeah,” Nicholas said. “Business as usual.”

  Ben hummed in response. He ripped the paper wrapping off his plastic straw.

  “Ben,” Nicholas said. “Don’t be like that.”

  “Like what? A city boy?” Ben chided.

  Nicholas groaned and put his head in his hands. “I’m sorry.”

  “Let’s just talk about something else.”

  “Okay, so the movie. It’s your pick. What do you want to see?”

  “What are the options?” Ben asked.

  Nicholas pondered for a few seconds before he huffed out an awkward laugh. “I don’t know what’s on, actually. I never go to the Marquee anymore. I should have looked before.”

  “We’ll check later,” Ben said.

  Nicholas suddenly stood and moved around the table to slide into Ben’s side of the booth.

  “What’s the matter?” Ben asked with surprise.

  “Nothing,” Nicholas said. “I just want to sit by you.”

  “So who’d you arrest?” Ben asked. “Or is that confidential?”

  “It is,” Nicholas replied. “He’s still in lockup.”

  “How mysterious,” Ben said. “Was it Dawson?”

  “I can’t say,” Nicholas said, and he shot Ben a stern stare.

  “Jeez, okay,” Ben said, holding his hands up. “Did you find your missing cruisers?”

  “No,” Nicholas said, and his frown deepened. “Let’s not talk about work, though. What did you do today?”

  Ben raised an eyebrow and considered a response. Ironed my dead father’s dress shirts was not exactly ideal dinner discussion. “Decompressed, I guess. Talked to my agent. And Kate. She gets in at eight tomorrow night.”

  “It’s kinda weird knowing you’ll both be here again,” Nicholas said, sounding almost nostalgic.

  “I guess.”

  Across the diner, a cluster of teenaged girls in the corner booth were staring at him. When Ben locked eyes with one of them—a redhead with a spattering of freckles—she ducked down, and the group erupted into a chorus of giggles.

  Nicholas put his hand over Ben’s thigh under the table. Ben smiled briefly, though he could not indulge in his own nostalgia.

  “What do you talk about with an agent anyway?” Nicholas asked, apparently sensing the need to shift the conversation in another direction.

  “Bullshit, mostly,” Ben said. “He strokes my ego, I feed him book proposals and manuscripts.” He fiddled with his straw, bobbing it up and down to clink the ice in his glass. “I made number one on The Times’ Best Seller list, apparently.”

  Nicholas grinned, but he seemed bemused by Ben’s reluctant snicker. “That’s good, though, isn’t it?”

  “Elliot thinks so,” Ben shrugged.

  “Let’s go for a drink after this,” Nicholas said, and he squeezed Ben’s thigh. “To celebrate.”

  Ben had only ever observed a writing milestone with Kate, and that had been years ago when he had first published The Blue Tulip. Since then, all forms of celebration had been restricted to Ben and his dear friend Jose Cuervo.

  Keith arrived with their food, but Ben was too overwhelmed by a warm surge of affection for the man by his side to notice.

  After dinner, Nicholas insisted on shots of Ben’s old friend, Jose. When you don’t see the point, go to The Point.

  “It’s almost like you’re trying to get me drunk,” Ben yelled over the blare of the jukebox as Nicholas offered him a second shot.

  “I’m a bad influence,” Nicholas replied just as loudly. He held up his own glass.

  Ben knocked back his shot. The burn of tequila down his throat was unpleasant. He drew a face and slid the empty shot glass across the bar to Axel, who caught it and gave Ben two very enthusiastic thumbs up.

  “Two Coronas,” Ben called out and showed two fingers to emphasize the order, which Axel accommodated only seconds later.

  “To your book,” Nicholas said. An amused grin tugged at the corners of his lips when he clinked his beer bottle to Ben’s.

  Ben laughed despite himself. The success of a book he hated was a surreal concept even with two shots of tequila coursing their way through his system. “That fucking book.”

  “Soon, I’ll only want you for your money,” Nicholas said as Tom Petty and t
he Heartbreakers wafted out from the jukebox.

  “That’s nice. Real classy, Nic,” Ben replied.

  “I hate this song,” Nicholas said, leaning close to Ben’s ear to avoid yelling again. “Wanna go outside?”

  Ben took on an offended expression and joined his voice with Tom’s to croon about a girl named Mary Jane. Nicholas rolled his eyes. Ben finished his beer before he stood and slapped a twenty down on the bar. Nicholas started to object, but Ben held up his hand.

  “No, no, it’s on The Corpse.”

  Outside, the music was fainter. A cluster of smokers hovered around the door in a cloud of cigarette smoke. A few of them retreated at Nicholas’ appearance, but he merely nodded to them in cordial greeting.

  “Sheriff Buzzkill,” Ben laughed when they were out of hearing range.

  The cantankerous glare that crossed Nicholas’ face only made Ben laugh more. Nicholas gently shoved Ben’s shoulder as they walked up Main Street to the Marquee.

  “I’ve spent years cultivating that reputation, you know,” Nicholas said. “And it all falls apart when you’re around.”

  “Does it?”

  “Astrid kept giving me these looks today.”

  “Hey, man, if you can’t hide your ‘I might get laid tonight’ smile then that’s not my fault.”

  “I wouldn’t want to,” Nicholas said with a grin. They stopped in front of the Marquee. “Are you saying I have a shot tonight, then?”

  “I would like to place emphasis on my use of ‘might,’ Sheriff,” Ben replied with airy indifference as he checked the film titles.

  The schedule board boasted an array of truly craptastic rom-coms and a low-budget slasher flick. Nicholas lingered on the sidewalk, and Ben noticed that the sheriff was gazing at him rather than the selection of films.

  “You know what would be awesome?” Ben asked, turning back to Nicholas.

  “Do tell.”

  “Serling.”

  Nicholas’ face brightened like the illuminated movie posters that lined the Marquee’s facade. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let’s go.” Nicholas held out a hand, and Ben took it without hesitation. They crossed the street to the square, and Nicholas paused by the bench they had sat on together two days before. “Ben,” he said, his tone hushed but happy. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Me too,” Ben replied, hoping Nicholas heard his sincerity.

  Nicholas laced their fingers together and squeezed Ben’s hand in his own. He led them to Dunmore. Inside the house, he tossed his keys on the table by the door and took Ben’s coat.

  “Want anything?” he asked. “Another beer?”

  “I’m good,” Ben said.

  Nicholas regarded Ben with care. He leaned forward and cupped both of Ben’s cheeks in his palms. Ben covered Nicholas’ hands with his own and lifted his chin in invitation. Nicholas pressed his lips against Ben’s. The tang of lime from the Corona lingered on his mouth and made Ben bubble with warmth inside, though he knew the tequila shared some responsibility.

  The kiss waned, and Nicholas winked. He pulled Ben into the living room. Ben sank onto the sofa while Nicholas fumbled around with a box set of The Twilight Zone. He settled at Ben’s side and slid his right arm around Ben’s shoulders. That same warmth rushed through Ben’s chest once more when Nicholas flipped through the DVD menu and selected ‘The Monsters are Due on Maple Street.’

  “I love this one,” Ben said, though he felt distracted by the solid weight of the arm wrapped around him.

  “I remember,” Nicholas said. His smile was like a Dylan album and a cup of coffee on a sunny afternoon.

  Ben could not look away.

  “You okay?” Nicholas asked, raising an eyebrow when he noticed Ben’s attention.

  “I am.”

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Nicholas asked, huffing out a soft laugh.

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know,” Nicholas mused. “You seem different.”

  “I feel different, I guess.”

  “In what way?”

  “I just do,” Ben replied.

  Nicholas brushed a kiss over Ben’s forehead.

  “This is kinda everything I ever wanted,” Ben said, lounging closer. Nicholas’ heartbeat thudded against Ben’s ear, and he let himself relax against Nicholas’ chest. The arm around his shoulders tightened.

  “Me too,” Nicholas said, and he pressed another kiss to Ben’s forehead.

  Familiar black-and-white images flickered across the television screen while Nicholas’ gentle fingertips stroked Ben’s arm.

  Ben thought of the residents of Maple Street. They were so preoccupied with the idea of a monster that they let themselves become that monster.

  Ben had created his own monster a long time ago; a monster made of cowardice and avoidance, of hesitancy and a three-piece suit. He had explored this monster in The Exquisite Corpse, a story that had delighted his readers but only reinforced his own unsteady grasp on the toxicity of his isolation.

  “I think I’m gonna go up to Boston after Kate leaves,” Ben started.

  “Why?” Nicholas asked, stilling his hand over Ben’s forearm. He looked as if Ben had just physically struck him. “Is this about the ‘city boy’ joke? I told you I didn’t mean it badly.”

  “Can I finish?”

  Nicholas flinched, and his open expression closed.

  “I had this thought today,” Ben continued. “I was at the house. I was thinking about my mom’s apple tree. And it just hit me that I’m home. That house, this town, it’s home. You know, I’ve had a tenancy renewal contract sitting on my desk in Boston for weeks. Weeks, Nic. I should have signed it and sent it off by now, but I haven’t. Maybe there was a reason behind that.”

  A slow grin spread across Nicholas’ face. His eyes went wide, and Ben was enchanted by how blue they seemed in that moment.

  “What are you saying?”

  “If we’re going to do this, we should do it. I should do it,” Ben said. “And not keep a safety net. I could probably pack in a weekend.”

  “I’ll help you,” Nicholas said immediately. “I’ll come, and I’ll help you with anything. I’ll carry all the boxes myself if you want me to.”

  “Really?”

  Nicholas captured Ben’s lips in a sudden kiss. Ben laughed and let himself be pushed onto the sofa when Nicholas moved over him.

  They remained locked together for what felt like hours, and Ben was only vaguely aware when the DVD on screen continued past the tale of the Maple Street monsters and into the next journey to another dimension. Their kisses were an unhurried attestation of emotions that had gone unspoken for over a decade.

  “I love you,” Nicholas breathed into Ben.

  Ben basked in the words. “I love you,” he replied without hesitation.

  Nicholas sighed against Ben’s cheek, and Ben folded his arms around the sheriff. They lazed, and Ben trailed his hands up and down Nicholas’ back. Nicholas shifted, slipped behind Ben, and wrapped his arms around Ben’s chest. He held Ben close and planted tiny kisses across the nape of his neck as their attention returned to the television.

  “Stay forever,” Nicholas whispered into Ben’s ear.

  “Only if I can keep you.”

  Nicholas hummed and nuzzled Ben’s hair with the tip of his nose. “I’m so happy, Ben.”

  “I’m sorry you were ever sad,” Ben replied.

  Nicholas went quiet for a moment. “It was my own fault.”

  The sober look on Nicholas’ face was alarming. Ben twisted until he was on his back and could gaze up at the other man. Nicholas adjusted his arm so that Ben’s head rested in the crook of his elbow.

  Ben recalled his earlier revelation brought on by his mother’s apple tree and a stack of pressed and folded dress shirts. “Sometimes we don’t know what we have when it’s right in front of us. Or how to appreciate it. I didn’t. And it’s too late, now.”

  Nicholas bru
shed tender fingertips over Ben’s forehead. “I’m sorry, Ben.”

  “Me too.”

  Nicholas bent and placed a kiss over Ben’s left eyebrow. “I’m here when you need me to be.”

  “I know,” Ben replied. And he did.

  “I’m glad,” Nicholas said, taking on a thoughtful expression. “You are home, Ben. You do belong here despite what you think or what anyone in town thinks. You belong here. With me if you want. And I hope you do.”

  Ben trailed his thumb over the stubble on Nicholas’ jawline. “Your dad—” he started. “He said you were broken.”

  “When did he say that?”

  “Last night,” Ben said. “In the garage.”

  “He shouldn’t have said that to you, Ben.”

  “It’s important, Nic. I should know.”

  Nicholas’ stared off at the images on the television. Ben tugged at his shirt to catch his attention.

  “Hey, I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

  “Tell you what, Ben? Tell you how much I hated myself? That the worst part of it was how my parents just kept saying, ‘Talk to her, Nicky, you can work it out,’ because they thought I missed Lily?”

  Ben placed his hand over Nicholas’ chest. The pace of his heart seemed to quicken as he spoke.

  “That the only reason I joined the force after college was because my dad was sick of me moping around without a fucking life. ‘Sort yourself out,’ he kept telling me. ‘Do something, do anything, just be happy.’ Have you ever had someone tell you to be happy when you just can’t be, no matter how hard you try?”

  “Couple of times, actually,” Ben replied.

  “Then you know how frustrating it feels.”

  “I thought you liked being a cop?”

  “I do. It was surprising. I hadn’t expected to like it at all, but it was something to do. I felt good about it, you know? Like it was meaningful.”

  Ben thought of his past conversations with Andrew and felt his chest tighten. Meaning was important. “You don’t think that anymore?”

  “No, I do. I guess. But I didn’t for a while.”

  “When?”

  “A few years ago. When I got shot.” He hesitated and offered a mournful smile. “Can I tell you something? Something I never told anyone else?”