by Nikki Young
I immediately regret everything that’s happened. I should’ve told him I forgive him, that I love him and I’m sorry for everything that happened while I was at his house. But none of it would transpire in my confused and frazzled brain.
Seconds later Jack is in the room pulling me out the door.
“What was that?” he asks, the confusion in his voice pouring through. “Do you need to leave?”
I shake my head quickly, not even thinking about what I’ve just done. It’s my instant response to think about my fucking job over everything else. What is wrong with me?
“Go, Campbell,” Jack says, his hands on my shoulders as he gives me a shake. “Go find him.” Although he’s still unsure of what is happening, he’s pushing me, clearly aware that Benji has something to do with all of this.
“But…” I start to protest and he cuts me off.
“No. No more bullshit, Campbell. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but go.”
“Okay,” I stutter out as I walk to my office, confused and trying to process everything.
I grab my bag and find myself starting to panic. What if I can’t find him? Where did he go?
I pull my phone from my purse as I stab at the elevator button praying for it to move faster. I get Benji’s voicemail and I leave a desperate and disjointed message, begging him to call, asking where he is and telling him I’m sorry and ending it with an awkward stuttered cry. I’m overwhelmed and unsure of what the hell is going on.
I fly out the door of the building, the sidewalk and street a sea of people and I scramble looking for Benji, but I don’t see him. This shouldn’t surprise me; a city this large and I expected to find him immediately, the thought is just ridiculous.
He’s gone. I’ve lost him again.
It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have behaved that way. Nothing is as important as what I have with Benji, what we have together, and I just drove him away.
I sit down on a bench outside the building as I catch my breath, trying to settle myself down. I call him again, but I get no answer.
“Please, Benji,” I beg, as I leave another message. “Call me. Tell me where you are. I’ll meet you there. I love you.” My sentences are short and choppy, but hopefully getting my point across should he listen to my message.
After a few minutes of staring at my phone, I hail a cab back to my house. I was in no shape to drive to the office today and I’m glad I didn’t. The encounter with Benji was both emotionally and physically exhausting and as I fall into the cab, I start crying almost immediately.
The ride feels long and I check my phone obsessively, only to find nothing. I need to get home to the quiet and comfort of my house. Everything is accentuated, the city noise, the cab ride; I’m nauseous and I just want it all to stop.
The cab pulls up to the front of my house and I pay the driver without ever acknowledging him, and when I look out the window I see Benji sitting on my front steps with his head in his hands.
I can’t get out of the cab fast enough.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Scrambling from the cab, I call his name and he looks up at me, but his face is sullen and I long to hold him in my arms and tell him everything is going be fine. We’re going to be fine.
Before I can even reach him, he’s standing in front of me, grabbing me and pulling me into his arms.
“I know you hate me,” he says, and his voice sounds strangled. “But I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be right now than with you.”
“I don’t hate you. I never have and I never could.” It kills me that he thinks this. He’s all I have left of what was once my entire life, everything I ever knew and loved. And he was the biggest part of that.
“You should,” he stutters out, and I can tell he’s on the verge of tears. “After what I made you do. I made you leave the accident. You didn’t want to and I made you.”
“Benji,” I say, taking his face in my hands. “You didn’t make me do anything.” I’m shaking my head, again in disbelief that he considers this to be true. We all made a choice that night, and whether we believe it was wrong or right, there’s no going back now. The damage is done and I blame no one, each of us equal partners in what occurred. But that doesn’t mean I don’t blame myself for all the tragedy that came afterward.
I ran away from it all. I left Benji and Tommy alone and grieving, never to wonder what it would do to them, never thinking about how much they would struggle. I watched Kelly die a slow death, one that I could’ve stopped, but I was too far gone at that point to intervene. If the blame falls on anyone, it’s me.
“It’s my fault,” I tell him, finally getting it off my chest; this thought that has dictated my life until now. It’s almost a relief to say it out loud, but then I realize maybe we all blamed ourselves for some part in all of this. I wouldn’t know, because I disappeared and it was never something any of us dared to discuss with each other.
But that all needs to change now if Benji and I are truly going to make this work. No more half-truths and avoidance, no more running and disappearing; we need each other and we need to finally grow up and face what happened.
“None of this is your fault,” Benji says sympathetically, and I rest my head on his shoulder, his arms encircling me.
“Then none of this is your fault either.”
We stand holding onto each other for what feels like forever, neither of us speaking, just standing in each other’s arms, finding the comfort we both need. Benji presses a few kisses to the top of my head and each time his lips connect, I feel myself shiver in his arms. His touch, the smell of his body, everything about him is perfect and I’m not certain I would’ve lasted another day without him.
With his lips next to my ear, he whispers, “I’m sorry my first instinct was to push you away.”
“I want your first instinct to be to pull me closer,” I answer back, my lips pressing a soft kiss to his neck.
“It will be. Always.”
It’s these words that correct everything that has been wrong between us. He will always be my salvation, my redemption; the person I cling to and the one who put my heart back together. I love him.
Benji’s hand slides into my hair and I trail my lips along his cheek before finding his mouth. He pulls me closer and this kiss isn’t just about finding each other again or the apologies, it’s for everything we both know we did wrong over the last few days and the last nine years. It means so much.
As we separate, I take his hand in mine, leading him up the steps and into my house.
Forgetting that I left in a hurry this morning and after the night I had, the place is a mess.
“Jesus, Campbell, what happened?” he asks as he looks around. The empty bottle of vodka lying next to my couch, the kitchen floor covered in glass and spilled scotch, while the place smells like a liquor store.
“My life,” I tell him, and he lets out a long, slow breath as he pulls a white envelope from his pocket. I catch it out of the corner of my eye and I know immediately what it is.
“Alex?” I ask.
Benji nods his head. “How’d you know?” he asks.
I saw Alex just before I was leaving Benji’s house after we had the argument about him finding Tommy’s letter. I saw the flash of white in Alex’s hand and for a fleeting second I thought it might have been a letter for Benji from Tommy, but in that moment, it seemed ridiculous. Like I was holding onto some false bit of hope that maybe a letter from Tommy would change Benji’s view of all of this as it did mine.
“I saw Alex before I left and he was carrying something. Why did Alex have your letter?” I ask, hoping it’s a letter from Tommy, one that should’ve arrived and explained everything, so he didn’t have to find out through the secret I was keeping from him. I didn’t want him to find my letter. I wanted to be the one who told him Tommy had died. But something failed and he found out the one way he shouldn’t have.
“All my mail gets delivered to the bar,” Benji explains. “
We’re the only houses outside the town limits and it’s always been that way.”
“Did you read it?”
“I did, but it took me a while. I wish you would’ve been there when I did.” He stops talking, the envelope still in his hand. “I wish I would’ve been there when you read yours,” he says, his tone hushed. I can hear the guilt in his voice and I hate it.
He pulls my torn and taped letter from his pocket, handing it to me. “This belongs to you,” he states, like he somehow knows I need it. Like he’s returning it to me because it’s all I have left of Tommy. If anyone understands, it’s Benji.
I take it from him and when I do, he takes his letter out of the envelope and hands it to me, too.
I don’t want to know what it says, but I can tell by the look on his face that he needs me to read it. My outstretched hand is already trembling as I take it from his grasp and walk over to the couch. Benji sits down next to me, his arm wrapping around my shoulders as he pulls me against his body, my head resting in the crook of his shoulder.
My entire body is now shaking as I hold the letter in my hand. My palms grow sweaty and my heart begins pounding and Benji tightens his hold on me. It’s not like I’m scared of what the letter will say, I’m scared of all the pain that will come with reading it.
I take a deep breath and open the letter, but my eyes are closed. “It’s okay,” Benji whispers, encouraging me, but my eyes remain closed.
I feel Benji’s heart beating in his chest, I hear it, my ear resting closely as I take another breath. I’m still, not moving, not thinking, and in this stillness there is one sound: the sound of our pounding hearts together.
And then there were two.
Without thinking anymore, I open my eyes, scanning the page quickly, but never really reading what is written. The letter is short, just like mine, and I find myself returning to the top and reading it. Slowly and methodically, despite the feeling of emptiness that has taken hold of my body. The tears spill from my eyes as I read each line.
Benji,
She’s falling apart. You’re going to lose her too.
As much as she doesn’t want to hear it, you need to tell her what happened. She needs you. You need each other.
I love you both.
Tommy
I’m holding onto Benji’s shirt, my eyes foggy and flooded with tears until I can’t see what is in front of me. The letter falls to my lap and I bury my face in Benji’s chest. Once again I’m inundated with unanswered questions and they float around in my head mindlessly.
How did he know I was falling apart? Would Benji have lost me too? Was I on the verge of doing what Tommy and Kelly both did? I don’t even know anymore. My life had spiraled out of control and I was no longer the one controlling it. I kept moving forward with no real understanding of where I was going or what was happening. It wasn’t until I got Tommy’s letter that I realized I needed to face it all or be faced with losing Benji or myself.
But how did he know any of this?
I finally pull away from Benji and he wipes my tear-stained cheeks and kisses me softly.
“We have a lot to talk about,” he says, and I nod my head.
It’s been a long time coming.
“You ready?” he asks, but I can see his anxiety coming through loud and clear. His hands are now folded in his lap, but they aren’t still. He reaches out and takes my hand and when he does, I can feel it shake in mine.
“Yes,” I say, but the answer is really no. I won’t ever be ready for this.
Never.
“Tommy was the only one who knew what happened before and during the accident,” Benji begins, but he stops and looks at me. We’re not sitting apart, but the distance between us is small, it’s too much. I move closer to him, my arms slipping around his waist, hugging him to me as I rest my head on his shoulder.
“I love you,” I tell him, and even though it won’t make this any easier, he needs to hear it. “I love you no matter what.” I mean it. Nothing he says now or anytime after this will ever make me question how I feel about him.
“I know, Campbell and I’m not afraid of losing you anymore, but everything I’m about to tell you is horrible and ugly, and it’s going to hurt like hell.”
This is going to be a struggle for both of us, but this time we’re together and I hope it will ease some of the pain that’s going to come with reliving this.
“Before Sam even started the car Kelly had passed out,” Benji begins and this is something I already know, yet he still includes this detail and it’s not until he continues that I realize why. “As we started to drive away, Tommy noticed she wasn’t wearing her seatbelt and he leaned forward and put it on her.”
“Tommy saved her,” I murmur, a feeling of anxiety pooling in my stomach.
I feel him nod against my hair. “He did, but I think there were times he wished he didn’t.”
He doesn’t need to elaborate, I understand what he’s saying and there’s nothing insensitive in his comment. Kelly was never the same after losing Sam and all Tommy wanted was for Kelly to be happy, which is why he stayed in a relationship with her where he had to share her with Sam. It was always about her.
“Tommy saw everything, Campbell,” he says suddenly. “Sam was speeding and so was the other car and when he came around the curve, he didn’t even have time to brake. We collided head on with the other car.”
I didn’t really need to see this to know this is what happened. It was easy to put together the logistics of it after looking at the scene. What is still unknown is how we knew people had died and what made us all decide to leave.
“You were unconscious for about five minutes after the accident,” he starts to say, but I interrupt him.
“Did you think about leaving me there?” I ask, and he pulls away from me, a look of shock on his face.
“No. Never. Not even once.” He swallows hard and takes my face in his hands. “Campbell, I would never have left you there. I don’t want you to ever think that.” He kisses my face, each time his lips touch my skin he says, “I love you.”
What made me any different? Was it because I survived? He didn’t have to stay; he didn’t have to save me from it all. But he did. He tried to shelter me from it and even though all the secrets and lies are what drove us apart, it’s going to be what heals us.
The thought still fresh in my head, I ask it even though it’s strange and possibly self-absorbed, but I need to know. Why I was different than Sam or the family in the other car. I realize I survived, but why didn’t he just leave me?
“Why?” I ask. “Why didn’t you just leave me there?”
“I couldn’t, Campbell,” he says, and pauses a second, shaking his head. He starts to speak and stops. “Honestly?” he questions, and I nod my head. “Everyone else was dead and you weren’t. They didn’t know we left them. You would’ve.” He looks away from me like he’s horrified at his answer, at his honesty. “But it wasn’t just that. I loved you, Campbell. I still do.” He swallows again and I see a tear roll down his cheek. “Even if you had died, I wouldn’t have left you there,” he says quickly. “And that makes me a horrible person. I left Sam without giving it a second thought, but had it been you…” He trails off, unable to finish his thought and I understand.
As much as I fought Benji that day about leaving Sam, had it been him, I wouldn’t have walked away. I couldn’t have left him either.
His honesty is disturbing, but it’s exactly what I expected. I wouldn’t dare judge his choices because they were mine too.
“What I did still haunts me today. It’s one of those things that if I could go back, I’d do it all differently,” he admits, and with each word he speaks my heart breaks for him. All of the pain and hurt and the anguish we’ve both kept buried is about to finally be revealed. And it’s obvious Benji knows far more than I’ve ever been aware of.
I curl my body alongside him, hoping that he’ll find some comfort in my presence, in my closeness, and in
my touch. I can’t even begin to imagine what he’s about to tell me, but I do know it’s going to change both of us forever.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The room is silent and cold. I shiver in Benji’s arms and I wonder if it’s as cold as I think or if what we’re talking about is driving my body into some sort of shock. Like making me relive that day is almost more than I can handle.
Benji hasn’t said anything for several minutes and I don’t want to push him. I need him to share only what he wants, only what makes him comfortable and then I nearly laugh out loud at my thought. None of this makes him comfortable. There will never come a time when either of us is comfortable enough with this to discuss it. With these thoughts or what we did. It will always be a struggle.
“There’s more,” Benji says breaking the silence as he kisses my head.
“I know. And whenever you’re ready I’m here.”
He chuckles a little, the small puffs of air that leave his mouth, ruffling my hair, but there’s no humor in his laugh. “I’ll never be ready,” he says matter of factly, and I know this too, but after everything that’s happened, I feel like we both need the reassurance. We both need to know this will never drive us apart again.
“Tommy and I…” he starts but stops. I feel him take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Tommy pulled Kelly from the car and carried her away from the wreckage. She was still so drunk and confused. She kept losing consciousness…” And again he stops short, saying nothing but shifting in my arms and looking out the window. “She didn’t know Sam was dead, Campbell. We didn’t tell her,” he says suddenly, and his voice shakes, the pain and guilt evident. “She would’ve never agreed to leave with us if she knew he was. We lied to her.”
I remember Kelly screaming, “Where’s Sam?” over and over, but at the time everything was so clouded and hazy, my thoughts a jumbled mess, that it never occurred to me to tell her. I guess I honestly didn’t believe it myself. I kept thinking that maybe we made a mistake; that he wasn’t dead. It was a moment of complete surrealism and I kept feeling like I would wake up. That it was all just a nightmare.