7. Ben
SEVE N
Ben
I see his name lighting up the screen and answer, my voice depressed sounding, even to me. “Hey Dad.”
"What are you and Jonny doing for dinner?"
My eyes graze the silent house, TV off. "Shelby has him at her mother’s house tonight."
"So you were planning on eating alone?"
Raking a hand through my hair, I stop at the base of my skull, clasp it, and shrug. "Yeah, but that's OK. I know you guys have a new group in today." My hand drops and I head for the kitchen.
Dad stops me with, “Why don't you join us for dinner?"
It's not the first time I've eaten amongst the retreat guests but never, since I’ve been an adult, do I join them on the first night. Everyone is getting acclimated. It's more about them bonding with each other. But did Mom and Dad ever say that’s how it’s supposed to be, to me? Or was I just assuming. Truth is, it's been so many years since they would've invited me or I would've said yes — either one. And I don't remember which happened last. I mostly ended up eating a meal at Sunflower when I was working on his ranch, and then it just seemed like the easy thing to do. But not the first night dinner. That I know.
"Have to admit, the house does feel a little empty. Yeah, I'll come over. It’s 6:30 dinner right?”
“Right.”
“Just let me clean up.“
“See you soon.”
“Okay, and Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“You’re always welcome here.”
We hang up and I walk to the bathroom, unbuttoning and peeling off the dirty jeans and plaid shirt I wore today weeding my crops. White tank top comes off last, boots and socks already abandoned by the front door when I ended my work. I run the water so hot it takes seconds for the mirror to steam, mist clinging to my naked body, to the tile, transforming the clear floor-to-ceiling shower door to opaque. Stepping into the hot blast, I wince. Add a little cold so it's bearable. Just under scalding. I like my showers hot. Grabbing an ivory bar I soap up with my mind dulled by the thought that it's been a long time since I've had sex. Feels like something died inside of me, my sexual urges gone. Being married to a woman I didn't respect, who offered so little to the marriage and took away so much, numbed me. Everything that's important — my body, mind and yeah, I guess heart, too. Maybe I'll just live here alone on my farm, raising my son with my ex-wife sharing half custody, and stay celibate until he moves out and gets married. Or maybe just forever.
I frown because, man, what a shitty thought.
Massaging soap into sore muscles, my thighs, biceps, and back of my calves right above my Achilles tendons, receive more attention than usual because I am stuck in this spinning vortex of wondering if I'm ever going to feel like the powerful man I used to be. From the looks of me, I know I come off as the opposite of how I feel. I'm six-foot-six, built of muscle. Looks aren't everything. A person can look like they’ve got it all together but on the inside…
And it’s up to me to fix it.
Heal.
Grow.
I haven’t smiled since hanging out with Ethan.
Walking naked, I leave the bathroom, enter the hallway and head for our bedroom. My bedroom. My shoulders lift at the correction, spine strengthening. Her side of the closet is empty now, just hangers reminding me of her existence, and absence. There isn't anything I wouldn't give to go back in time and end it sooner.
Regret is a beast.
One not worth my time.
I have to remember to shift my mind to something more positive, even if it takes practice. I certainly don't have it perfected yet. I'm looking forward to that day. Everything difficult takes time until it’s easy. I didn’t fall out of the womb walking and talking. I remember my first crop died. It’s all about patience, determination and perseverance.
Have to stop feeling like this.
How to tackle it?
That’s what I want to know.
The best solution I can think of is to throw myself into my work. What I do helps people. Feeds them. Nourishes. And that's an honorable thing. I've always taken great pride in my livelihood, and I’ve, over time, become extremely good at it. That’s how I’ll heal. There's something primal about getting your hands dirty in the soil of Earth.
Throwing on a pair of grey jeans plus a black Henley shirt I look over at my selection of cowboy boots, work boots, sneakers, and opt for the last. My Converse, to be specific. What I wear when I'm not working.
It'll be interesting to meet people from around the globe. It always has been. Unfortunate I haven't met more when the opportunity has always been there. Almost every month out of the year a new retreat group arrives, guests with their own stories. Usually good people, too, because the kind of person who takes time out for themselves is usually on a good path or searching for one.
The years with Shelby, especially the last five or so, kept me away from the retreat for the most part. I used to be so involved with it when I was a little kid, always participating, even helping to run some of the craft activities. It made me really happy. I’d forgotten all about that until now, so I’m heading over to Sunflower with more of a spring in my steps than I’ve had for the past two weeks since I visited my cousin and last fought with Shelby. Been quiet since then. It’ll be really good to have dinner with a fresh group of faces, along with Silvia — my second mom — and Mom and Dad, who’ve been working hard to help me through this crazy fucking transition.
I think I'm gonna tell Mom I love her, tonight. Dad, too. Something I should never forget to do.
Grabbing the keys for my Jeep, I lock up and head out.