Page 128 of Hell Bent
“What?” Now Ben was looking at me.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ve seen all these bad things, you know, but that was one of the worst. He told her to stay and drove off with her looking after him, all confused and hopeful and skinny. Middle of nowhere, off the freeway, nighttime. So I had to take her. Of course, I tried to dump her first myself. Called around, but I figured out pretty quick that they’d just put her down, and I couldn’t do it. So I took her instead, andguess what, it was great to have her. Then I met Alix, and that was some more of that new life. She didn’t want anything to do with me, except that she liked me, even though she didn’t want to. I liked her, too. I liked her a lot. That night when your mom called me?”
“Christmas night,” Ben said. “Man, that Christmas sucked.” His feet moved restlessly. “Except she was there. My mom. I didn’t realize that I’d—” He stopped.
“Yep,” I said. “It’s complicated as hell. Well, that night was Alix’s and my first real date. So, yeah. I was like you. I was overwhelmed. I was out of my element. And it took me a while to even figure out how to step up. I wouldn’t say I’ve got it down yet, but at least I’m learning. And the biggest thing I’m learning?—”
OK. This was it. “I’ve learned that I care a whole lot about you,” I said. “I like you, and it matters that you’re my nephew. You’re not just some kid, and I want to do this thing right.”
He looked away. “You mean it’s your duty. Like being on the team. You’re big on doing the right thing, blah blah.”
“What the hell? No.” I’d raised my voice some, and I lowered it with an effort. “I’m trying to tell you that I want you. That I haven’t had a family for about fifteen years, and now I do. You’ve given me my family back.You’remy family. And I know it’s too soon to say it. That you may never want to hear it. But if you decide you want it at any point, I’d like to adopt you.”
“What?”He was sure looking at me now. “Why?”
“Because,” I said, “I want us both to have that family. I want you to know you can count on me. I want you toknow,all the way down deep, that I’m not just waiting until you’re eighteen so I won’t be responsible for you anymore. I know how that feels, and I don’t want that for you.”
“Wow,” Ben said. “That wasn’t what I expected.”
I had to laugh. “Yeah. It’s a lot, but then, we’ve beenthrough a lot. And before you say anything, I know it’s not going to be smooth sailing. I remember being a teenager, and man, it wasn’t easy, even beforemy dad got sick. It helps to have a parent, though. Somebody to kick your ass and set limits you don’t like, but also somebody you can count on to back you up and bail you out and keep you more or less on track. And actually care about you. That helps. Keep in mind that I have zero experience at parenting and grade me on the curve, OK?”
“OK,” Ben said. Seeming stunned, honestly.
“So that’s it. My speech.” I stood up. “Let’s head back to the car and order some food.”
“This would be an excellent night,” Ben said, getting off the bench, “for burgers.”
“Pushing your luck,” I said, and this time, he laughed. Miracle. “Oh,” I remembered as we began walking again. “School. Here’s my thought about that. I don’t want you to start somewhere and then have to change schools, so you may have to keep going with Thomas a little longer until we figure out the best one.”
“You don’t get to figure out the best one,” Ben said. “You go where you live. Dude. You reallyhaveforgotten about being a teenager.”
“Well, there’s private school,” I pointed out. “Or public school out in the suburbs, I guess, if we moved there. That’s where Annabelle went. I’m not sure what you’re leaning toward, career-wise, but it seems like math might feature in there, and maybe science. Someplace with good math and science instruction, then, because Thomas says you’re doing good and that you need challenge. Sports, too. Running. Computers. Whatever you’re into. Whatever we decide matters most.”
“I don’t want to live out in the middle of nowhere,” Ben said. “If you’re asking me.”
“I am asking you. I like being in the city, too, but maybe not the Pearl District. Maybe someplace with more …”
“Personality?” Ben said. “And Lexi’d rather have a yard so she can chase balls and stuff. But private school’s really expensive. I know my mom said there was money for college, but?—”
I said, “That’s another thing I need to do, sit down with you and go through the finances so you know where you stand, but it’s another one that’s going to have to wait until after the season. I know that’s not ideal, but I can’t do much about it. There’s a lot. Deciding what to do with the Vancouver house, because that’s yours. Deciding where we want to live and where you want to go to school.” Some more hesitation. “Deciding what you want to do with your mom’s ashes.”
Ben said, “Oh.”
“Yeah. I could decide, but I’m her brother. You’re her son. Unless you want me to do it for you, we should probably talk this one out together.”
“Geez.”
“It’s a lot,” I agreed. “Took me a while to put all the pieces together myself, which is one reason I haven’t brought all this up. Also, until the other day, it was?—”
“In the future,” Ben said.
“Exactly. In the future. It felt like burying her early.”
Ben didn’t answer, just hunched his shoulders and bobbed his head, and I said, “So are you OK to hang out with Thomas until we figure this stuff out?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Thomas is cool. Now that I know it’s not forever.”
I put an arm over his shoulders, and he didn’t stiffen up. “It’s not forever. Though it can sure feel like it when you’re going through it. There’s a thing they say about grieving somebody. ‘The only way out is through.’ I didn’t know aboutthat for a long time. Nobody to tell me, or nobody I was listening to. You’ve got to go ahead and have the feelings. Feel bad, feel sad, feel mad. Go running, like Alix said. Box, lift weights, whatever gets those feelings out. Get some therapy, maybe, talk to a guy. We could do that. If you just stuff it all down and be mad, or party too much, or get paid too much for playing soccer and do all those things, it doesn’t tend to work out well. You can’t go around it or fly over it. You’ve gotta go through it.”
