Page 40 of Baby, It's Cod Outside
Ben’s jaw works. He won’t look at Jackson. “I usually try not to let it happen in front of anyone,” he says. “I know it can be—” He stops. Finishes quieter, “It’s a lot.”
Jackson’s chest aches with a dull fury aimed at whoever first made Ben feel that shame.
“Ben…” He reaches over, takes Ben’s hand with his own. Ben twitches at the contact. His fingers curl loosely around Jackson’s palm.
Jackson tries again. “I’d rather know. I’d rather be here. Even if all I can do is sit with you. If that helps.”
Ben nods once, tight. “It helps,” he says, but it’s a little too fast. Something to keep Jackson from worrying and the weight squarely on Ben.
He can see what those words cost him. And what they cover up. Jackson doesn’t let go. Just softens his grip. “What’d your dad say?”
“His flight got delayed,” Ben says, staring straight ahead. “Snowstorm in Chicago. They had to de-ice the plane. He’s boarding now.”
Jackson waits.
“It means he’s going to be late to the party. So he wants me to give the annual speech. Said I should just… ‘wing it.’” Ben gives a helpless shake of his head. “Which, you know. Not a big deal. It’s just a speech. I shouldn’t be freaking out over something this small.”
Ben’s already somewhere else, playing out failure in his head, running through all the ways it can go wrong.
“You don’t have to make it sound like it’s okay for my sake,” Jackson says.
Ben goes still. Doesn’t respond right away. Just closes his eyes and releases a slow breath, like something leaking through a crack.
Then, with a bitter little shrug: “I have an MBA. I’m on the leadership team of a multi-million dollar operation. I should be able to give a stupid five-minute speech to a room of people who already work for me. If I can’t do that, then what am I doing there, besides being the boss’ son?”
His laugh is hollow. Sharp around the edges.
“I just thought I’d be farther along by now, you know? That I’d be someone who already knows what to say. Someone who’s… impressive. Someone with something real to show for all this. Instead I’ve been treading water since I got out of school, waiting for someone to point out that I don’t really belong here.”
He shakes his head. “I’ve been given so much. More than I earned. And I keep wondering if I’ve done anything to deserve it. Or if I ever will. It’s all just been handed to me, and I can’t even be trusted for one week not to blow it to oblivion.”
Ben turns his head slightly, not enough to meet Jackson’s eyes, but enough to suggest he’s waiting for Jackson to confirm every awful, hyper-critical thing he’s ever thought about himself.
Jackson’s chest pulls tight with grief for the way Ben talks, for the grace he gives to everyone else but fails to turn inward. It feels learned.
“You don’t have to let your father put all that pressure on you.” Jackson’s voice is low, edged despite himself. “You’re not a factory. You’re not a business model. You’re not some legacy your dad gets to build like a fucking brand. You’re a person.”
Ben flinches just enough to register.
“It’s not like that,” he says quickly. “Not really. I mean, yeah, sometimes. He can be… intense. But he’s not some monster.” He glances over, needing Jackson to understand that part.
“He cheered so loud at my college graduation I thought they were going to throw him out of the auditorium,” Ben says with a faint smile. “He brought one of those heavy duty marine air horns that you are definitely not supposed to use indoors.
“He remembers the name of every single guy I’ve ever dated. When I came out to him, he took me out for frozen yogurt. Which, yeah, I know, weird, but it’s what he used to do after my baseball games when I was a kid. I think it was the only thing he could think of to show he supported me.”
Ben glances down at his hands. Turns one over like it might explain something.
“He cares about me, Jackson. He really does. He’s just…” Ben pauses before it all comes crashing out. “He was so sad after my mom died. Honestly, he was already falling apart while she was sick. Without her, he just… he didn’t know how to do it. How to be everything she was. He didn’t plan to raise me alone. He was lost. We both were.”
The silence is heavy before the rest slips out of Ben in a whisper, “I just thought… if I could be better. More of what he needed. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard on him, you know?”
Jackson swallows down the lump rising in his throat. His voice comes gentler this time, careful, making sure he’s got it right. “You tried to make it easier for him.”
Ben nods. “I didn’t want to make it worse.”
That’s what knocks the air out of Jackson.
Ben wasn’t taught to talk like some polished corporate robot, and to conceal his own suffering from the world. He taught himself.
