26. Ben
TWENTY-SIX
Ben
I nervously adjust my jeans as we approach the front door of Sunflower, making sure my green shirt is tucked in. Tonight is not just any ordinary night; it's a dinner party with the woman I can’t stop thinking about. My heart is racing with anticipation, and Jonny looks up at me. “Dad, isn’t that your best shirt?”
“I don’t know if I’d call it…” Deciding instantly that I don’t want to ever lie to my boy, I correct myself, “Yes. It is.”
“Why did you tell me to wear my new grey jeans and blue button-up to dinner? I never wear button-ups. I don’t even know why I have this.”
Because we haven’t gone out enough to events where you need it. I’m going to make that change.
Just outside the front door, we pause. “Why didn’t you ask me this when I told you to wear these?”
“I wanted to but… ”
Kneeling down to be more his height, I take his small hand. “Jonny, you don’t have to walk on eggshells with me. You can ask anything you want. Say anything you want.”
“Okay,” is all he replies, but the look in his eyes shows trepidation regardless of my earnestness. His mom has been a mine-field lately. I have to fix that. But how? First, just make it safe for him to be with me. That’s what I have control over.
“I mean it, buddy. Anything. Don’t censor yourself.”
Doubtful, he asks, “Mean it?”
“Absolutely! I want to hear what you think. What you have to say. All of it. Holding that shit in, it’s no good.”
He grins, “You swore.”
Letting go of his hand, I rise up to my full height of six-foot-six. “I walk the talk.”
“Right,” he nods with a sparkle in his green eyes. “Walk the talk.” As my hand reaches for the knob, he quickly asks, Isn’t it just Grandma and Grandpa and their retreat guests?”
“And Sylvia.”
“Then why are we dressed up? Is it a party or just dinner?”
“Just dinner,” I say, feeling a little guilty about not confessing it’s more than that to me. Any time I can spend with Willow feels like an important event, and tonight she’s meeting my son. But I can’t tell him, or her, how much I’ll be watching what happens. I have a vested interest in tonight.
My suspense is replaced by awe as the door swings open, revealing Willow in a stunning purple dress that accentuates her raven hair, light pink lips, and radiant smile. “Hello, Ben," she says, voice tinged with excitement. "I'm so glad you could make it." Her gaze drops to Jonny. “Oh hi! You must be Ben’s son. You look so much like him!”
“You’re the lady with the black hair!”
She blushes and extends her hand. “I guess I am.” Instantly I know she thinks I was talking about her to my son before we arrived. Incorrect assumption but better than her finding out that Shelby was badmouthing her while saying they were friends. “I’m Willow. And you are?”
“Jonny Cocker, ma’am. Nice to meet you.”
“So nice to meet you, too!” Willow’s grey eyes lock onto me, expression telling me she’s completely charmed by his politeness.
Proud of him, and happy she met him with such grace, my muscles lose their tension as I step into the inviting ambiance of Sunflower. The tantalizing aroma of lasagna and warm garlic bread wafts through the air, making my stomach growl with hunger. I can't help but feel lucky to be sharing dinner with good people, rather than staying at home again. And to be looked at like Willow did when she opened the door, has my blood heated up.
Even when the group is gone, a thought I’ve given too much to, I hope we’ll be invited here with the next one. I missed having new people around. Or people at all. Not only am I glad I don’t have to just talk to Shelby, it can get too quiet at our house when it’s just us guys now. The last several months of our separation have taught me that. Jonny is like Dad, a boy of few words. He can hold a conversation, but if no one says anything then he speaks rarely, and only about what’s important to him. I can fall into that pattern, too, unless I’m interested in something. Like I am in Willow. I want to know all about her, all of her stories. The other night, I got a taste. It just made me realize how interested I am, because I want more. I’ve got so many questions but tonight, it turns out, is not my turn.
It’s my son’s.
As the dinner progresses, Jonny and Willow, instead, engage in deep conversation, effortlessly connecting on a multitude of topics, to my surprise.
He was nervous about riding a horse the first time, too, because it was so huge compared to him. “I was little then,” he says with a puffed out chest, as if big now. He’s not even a tween yet, so Mom and Sylvia stifle their smiles at his saying it.
But Dad and I have no trouble taking Jonny seriously, knowing that his ego needs confidence. That his opinion of himself matters. Plus, he is taller than most of the boys in his grade, because of my height, and he takes after me. Jonny is bright — he can see when someone is laughing at him. However, right now he’s so intent on his conversation with Willow he doesn’t notice his grandmother thinking him “So cute” or even that she whispers it to her best girlfriend.
Everyone else in the retreat group is caught up in their own discussions, outside of Laura, whose curiosity at Willow and Jonny has her the same as me, Dad, Mom and Sylvia, all ears the entire dinner singularly to their conversation. We who are interested, discover they also share the commonalty of both loving garlic bread as their favorite food, both having friends named Gemma and we get full descriptions of both, both hate mushrooms, both think mint chocolate chip is the best of all ice creams, and the finale is Willow and Jonny have in common always wanting to have a dog named Thor. Though only Willow has had a chance to make that a reality.
“You don’t have a dog?”
“No, Mom doesn’t like them. She wants cats, but I’m allergic.”
“Hmmm. Want to see a picture of Thor?”
“Yeah!”
She gracefully exits up to her room, dress flowing and beautiful in her haste. I’m staring at the stairs until she reappears with her phone. She locks eyes with me and winks, sending electric shocks into my jeans. “Are you ready to see too many pictures of a dog?”
I smirk, “What’s too many?”
“Thousands!”
“That’s not enough. ”
She laughs and takes her seat, handing the phone to Jonny at my left.
“Oh, he’s cute! Can I scroll?”
“Yes, and thank you for asking.”
“Great pictures!”
She beams, “You think so?”
He swipes away, “Yeah, these look professional. Did you take these?”
“I did. Thank you!”
He starts laughing at a picture of Thor in a pink tutu, and there’s no better sound than a child laughing. “What kind of a dog is he?”
“A mutt. Some bulldog and a bunch of other stuff I don’t need to know about.”
Mom asks, “You don’t want to do a DNA?”
“Not really.”
“They can be very enlightening.”
Dad mutters, “Yes they can,” and exchanges a look with her I don’t understand.
They don’t have a dog, and why would you want one on a cow? Or a chicken? But a horse breed could reveal royal lineage. So I ask, “You guys do a DNA on the horses?”
“No, not the horses.”
Mom interjects, “It’s a story for another time,” as Sylvia averts her gaze from mine and rises to clear the two empty lasagne dishes from the table.
Jonny asks, “Has Thor ever been on a plane?”
“I don’t travel much, so he’s never had a chance to. ”
“He could have come here.”
“I don’t think dogs are allowed?”
Mom agrees, “Allergies. Too many people staying here and some can’t be around dogs.”
Jonny asks Willow, “Where is he?”
“He’s with my ex-boyfriend.”
“Your ex -boyfriend?”
“Yes. We’re still friends.”
Jonny looks at me. “You can do that?”
Sylvia returns as Mom and Dad exchange a look. Laura is staring with interest, even adjusts her weight on the dining chair as Willow pauses before finally answering, “Yes, and I think, if it’s possible, everyone should do that. But that’s just a life philosophy of mine.”
“You’re nice,” he says thoughtfully, staring at her. Handing back the phone, Jonny adds, “And pretty. I don’t know why my mom doesn’t like you.”
The whole table goes silent. I close my eyes — the one who told him to say whatever is on his mind.
Willow misses only a beat. “Thank you, Jonny. I think you’re nice, too.”
I look at Mom, and she’s impressed. But not as much as I am. Willow acted as if that was the only part of what Jonny said that matters.
However, people are slow to resume their conversations — Maggie and Pete get up and start clearing. Michelle and Sienna push bits of food on their plate, acting as if they’re not listening. Marco is staring right at Willow, and who knows what he’s thinking but it looks to be good. Steven is smiling and shaking his head, aware things could have blown up into a lot more awkward. Dax is looking at me.
Jonny says, “Maybe you could come back and bring Thor with you?”
Dax mutters from under heavy eyeliner, “Twist her arm.”
Laughter fills the room, creating an immediate sense of relaxation.
Sylvia says, “Crisis averted.”
“What does that mean?” frowns Jonny. “I mean, I know what it means, but why is everyone laughing?”
Because they all know I’m interested in the girl with the black hair who your mother doesn’t like.
“Maybe telling someone…” Mom begins to explain.
I interrupt, “Jonny can say anything that’s on his mind.”
Mom’s gaze shifts to me, comprehension lighting her face as we share an unvoiced communication. “Of course he can. But we should explain why they laughed.”
I take over. “People don’t always say what they’re thinking, Jonny.”
Dad holds up his hand to stop me. “But you keep right on doing it. Your dad is right. You’re a Cocker. You say whatever you want. In the outside world, a lot of people don’t and you’ll learn when you want to hold something back, on your own. But here? ”
I finish, agreeing, “With family, be as honest as you can be.”
During hot fudge sundaes for dessert, which many claim as their favorite, conversations fall back into easy and light until Mom comes up with the best idea I ever heard. “Jonny, why don’t you stay with your grandma and grandpa tonight? It’s been so long since you did.”
Did she offer that to give me time alone with Willow?
“I don’t think I can.”
I frown, “Why not?”
Jonny shrugs, unsure of why he feels that way. He’s just a kid, but the conditioning his mother gave him of staying only at home — and above all else, not spending time with the Cocker family — is ingrained in his responses now. Rage builds in my chest, unasked for and inevitable.
“Of course you can stay at your grandparents house.”
Jonny lights up, “Really?!” furthering my anger at myself for letting it get this far. My heart aches at the hope in his voice. It should be certainty , something asked of him and answered by him without question. He should have had tons of sleepovers with his grandparents. They’re on the next property! Only acres away! But he’s been trained to not spend time with them. Rage gnaws at my bones, a volcano of feelings I haven’t dealt with. “Sure,” is all I can say.
Mom is watching me, worried. “Is that okay, Ben? ”
“Of course it is,” I force a smile. “I think it’s a great idea.”
She gets up and hugs me while I stay seated in my chair. “I love you, Ben.” She adds with a whisper, “It’s gonna be okay.”
Dad says, “Jonny, you pick the movie. Any one you wanna see.”
“I don’t want to watch TV. I always watch TV at Grandma’s.”
“Cards?”
“Yay!”
“Cards, it is,” Dad smiles.
With me feeling heavy with anger, we all clean up after ourselves, and when the kitchen is too overrun, Sylvia shouts, “I’ve got this now! Everyone, out of here!” Laughter spreads and so do the people, heading off to do whatever they feel like with the remainder of their night.
I give the top of my son’s head a kiss as he goes to follow Mom and Dad out the door. “Think I’ll hang back a while.”
Dad walks over, and leans in to whisper, “Go get her.”