Thirty-nine
Sadie
I have no idea how last night transpired—it happened so fast. One second, I was asleep after a night out with Nick, and the next Ben and I were fighting and screaming as he begged me to give him more time while I begged him to set me free.
I wake up to his arms around me. I stay still, not wanting to wake him, afraid if I do we will do it all over again. His arms feel nice around me for the first time in what feels like an eternity. I won’t deny that I miss the Ben I once knew. I miss him when I reach across the sheets and find cold emptiness, when I no longer see his eyes when I first open mine, when I can’t feel his touch as we’re lost in one another.
“Good morning,” he whispers, and my eyes close tight.
Crap.
“Morning.” I shift a little, and he tightens his grip.
“You hate me, and that’s okay, but I promise I will make this right. I will fix us.” I shiver, and the tears find their way out. I’m already crying three minutes into the start of my day. He has no idea the depths of pain he has caused me, what he has truly done to my soul. They say heartbreak feels like death, and right now I’m six feet under.
“You say that now, but you’ve never been able to keep your promises. Ever. And I don’t know if I have it in me to ever trust you again,” I admit. His arms tighten around me, and my body grows colder.
“I don’t blame you for that, and all I can do is show you. No more empty promises, only actions and results.”
“Why? What do you want?” I finally ask, wiping at my tears.
“I want my family. I want to change the future and leave history where it belongs: in the past. I will be the best husband and try to be an even better father. You wait, angel.” He releases me, and I let him leave me alone to cry, not watching him retreat from me.
I catch myself almost believing him but urgently shut it down when I remember how seriously damaged I am. I have to make a choice, and it will not be easy. Do I stay and fight or give up and try to pick up the pieces? I have always chosen the former, and look where it got me.
How can I trust him when I don’t know if I can trust myself to make the right choice anymore?
I get up and start to get ready for the day, one foot at a time.
* * *
I made it. I fulfilled my promise, even when I had to do it by walking on broken glass and the shattered pieces of me. I stayed. And now I will say goodbye. Ben has spent the past seven days being soft. He has been reserved with his words and actions; it was like peace followed him around. He came back to the bus after every meet and greet. Sober. He would pull out his notebook and lie next to me in bed writing songs while I read. He made sure I was always fed, that I was never alone and had everything I needed. Oftentimes, he would join me and the guys in the front of the bus, telling jokes and making everyone laugh. It was like looking at the Ben I spent those first few days with right after we met. But I still have a wall up. A wall so high that I know he can see it. I expected him to ignore it and bulldoze over it, and I was surprised he didn’t. In fact, he respected every verbal and invisible boundary I set. Honestly, I don’t know how to take it.
I am wearing a pair of ripped skinnies and a loose-fitting Roes tee on the last day of the tour. My hair is in a high ponytail, and my makeup is light. Ben spent most of the morning in the back of the bus having a meditation session with his therapist while the guys and I went to breakfast. My appetite has snuck back up on me, and little baby is loving every second of it.
We make it back to the bus around one, giving us a few hours before sound check. Wandering into the back with a take-out box for Ben, I find him sitting up in bed, playing his guitar. I didn’t have to bring him food, but for some reason, some small part of me wanted to make sure he at least ate before taking his medication and performing.
“Hey, how was breakfast?” He starts the conversation first.
“It was good. I brought back some food so you can eat before sound check.”
“Smells like biscuits and gravy.”
I nod. “Nick found me a restaurant with all my favorites.”
“I’m starved. Besides, I need to hurry up and eat. I need to be at the prison in about an hour.”
“The what?” I set the box down next to him and look at him, confused.
“I’m going to see Darren.” Am I dreaming? I look around and debate pinching myself. What did he say? His father. He is going to see his father?
“Ben, why in the hell would you do that? Not only in general but also before a show?” My eyes are wide as I watch him. He is calmly eating his breakfast. It’s like he just casually told me the sky is blue and grass is green. What the heck is happening right now?
“I know I never talk about my sessions, but I want to tell you about the last one. If you’re okay with that?” He looks up from the food. His eyes are soft. He looks so handsome. Everything about him is mine, and I want to reach out and touch him, but I resist.
“If you really want to. You don’t owe me anything anymore.” I sit on the edge of the bed and remind him that we both know today is the end. Today we part ways.
“Dr. Davinah has been asking me about seeing Darren. He thinks this is the last part of me that needs to be addressed if I am going to properly start healing.” This is a lot to process; what do I even say? He never talks about this with me, so I don’t have any idea how to approach it.
“Okay, do you feel that way too?”
He takes a bite and nods. “I don’t know if it will work, but at this point, I will do anything to make this right. To get you back.”
Is that why he is doing this? For me? I shake my head. “No, Ben. This can’t be for me. This has to be for you. You understand that I wanted to help you for you. Not for me. Right?”
“I understand, and I want to heal for me too. Trust me. But I made a vow. And I want this for me, for you, and for them.” He looks at my stomach. Instinctively, I place my hand there and start to rub.
“Okay.” I entertain this. “What if it goes in the opposite direction? Did your therapist and you talk about a plan of action to make sure you’re okay?” I ask.
“We did, but that’s not for you to worry about. Let’s focus on us.” How is he so damn calm? Mentioning his father in the past was like lighting a fire and throwing it at his gasoline-covered body. Now it’s casual. Who is this man, and where the hell is Ben?
“You seem . . . normal with all this. Like you’re not worried.” His whole demeanor is throwing me off.
“I’m terrified, Sadie. But Dr. Davinah says I can’t start to fully heal until I face the source of my problems. That would be Darren.”
I nod. “I hope this is the right thing for you. Regardless of where we stand, I want what’s best for you. And it is terrifying, but you are capable of so much. You have already come so far.”
Ben is on the other side of sobriety. That isn’t an easy thing to do. He is still going to therapy, and even though he couldn’t let me in and work on us, he has come a long way, and I am proud of him. He deserves peace, no matter how much it hurts to know that our child and I are not part of that peace. Ben said that night that he wants us, and I believe that he wants to believe it, but I have lost the ability to know what he really wants and to tell if what he says is true.
“I have, and that’s why I know I am capable of showing you that I want you and our child. My words are shit at this point, and the only way I can prove myself to you is by my actions.” I close my eyes and rest my hand above my heart. Ben seems so sure, and I really want to believe him. I do. But there is this huge void in the center of my chest where he ripped out my heart each time he promised me something then turned around and broke his promise.
“Okay. Let’s go see Darren.” I stand, not ready to talk about this anymore.
“Wait, you want to go?” He joins me, closing the box on his half-eaten breakfast.
“Yes. I promised to stay by your side until the end of this tour. This is part of it, and I’m not a complete monster, Ben. As much as I want to deny it, I do love you and care about you. Darren hurt you; he took away your mother. I won’t let you do this alone.” With that, I head to the front of the bus. If I stood there any longer and looked at the longing on his face and that glimmer of hope in his eyes, I would have crumbled. I’m growing stronger, but I am not invincible.
* * *
The table we’re seated at in the room full of other families and inmates is a concrete block cube. It’s uncomfortable but fits the mood perfectly—desolate. Ben’s leg is bouncing up and down, and there is a slight shimmer of sweat beading around his hairline.
Regardless of whether we’re at odds, I comfort him. “Hey, relax. You got this far, you’re strong enough to do this.” Leaning in, I whisper in his ear, “You have me.” He turns, his leg ceasing moving and his eyes shimmering. I don’t want to offer him hope for us, but I know this can’t be easy, and I still care about him getting better. This is a huge—if not the biggest—part of his recovery.
“I really love you, Sadie.” My mouth opens to tell him he needs to focus on what he’s here for, not on me, but someone else speaks before I can.
“Son?” We both look at the man standing opposite the table with a chain between his feet and his hands in cuffs. He looks like Ben; his hair is gray but thick like Ben’s, and his facial structure is similar, but his eyes aren’t as kind. They are the same color, but Ben’s have a softer feel to them because Ben is still good, like his mother.
“You look so grown-up, And who is this beautiful young lady? She looks like your mother.”
“Stop!” Ben snaps, and I grab his hand, squeezing it between mine below the edge of the table. He takes a breath and starts again. “Stop. Do not talk about my mother like you aren’t in this place for murdering her.” I keep my eyes on Ben for a moment. He is trying to calm himself, breathing deeply through his nostrils and releasing the air through his mouth. That’s new. Is that something his therapist taught him?
“Ben, I did a terrible, unspeakable thing, but I’ve changed, and your mother would have forgiven me.” My eyes fly up and zero in on him. Out of everything he could say, he chose that? He really must not know his son at all, and that’s devastating.
“Forgiven you? How in the world do you think that you can sit here and assume she would forgive you? We hated you. You broke us,” Ben spits.
“Because your mother taught me forgiveness.” Wow, he really is brave.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about—what you have done to me.”
“I do, son—”
“Ben, My name is Ben.” His dad nods, briefly silent. He looks offended, and I almost call him on it. He lost the privilege of calling Ben his son the moment he laid a hand on him. He has no right to act hurt. The only ones who got hurt in this family are Ben and his mother.
“Ben, I know what I’ve done to you, and I am sorry. My father did the same thing to me, and look where it got me.” He gestures to the surrounding walls.
“You blame him for what you did, but you made a choice.”
“I did, and how does that make you any different? I’m sure you blame me for all the fucked-up things you’ve done in your life. I made a choice, and it was mine alone, but you need to know that whatever I did to you, I’m sorry.”
Ben scoffs, shaking his head. I keep my hands tight on his. I want to scream at the man across from me and tell him how vile he is, but this isn’t my battle—it’s Ben’s. If I could say anything to his father, I would spew out words of hate because he hurt my husband, my best friend, so badly that even after all these years, there is still a broken child trying to heal inside of the man.
“You can’t even say what you did. You say ‘whatever I did to you,’ like it was no big deal. You hurt me every day. You hurt my beautiful mother and took her away from me when I needed her. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to her!” Ben slams his hands down, and the guards straighten up and look over at us. I hold my hand up, and they stand their ground.
“Relax, baby. You got this,” I whisper, and Ben looks at me.
“Who is she?” Darren gestures to me.
“She’s my wife.”
“What’s your name?”
With no enthusiasm, I respond, “Sadie.”
“Sadie, you’re very beautiful. I hate that I’m meeting you this way, but welcome to our family.”
“She is not your family, she’s mine, and I’m not your family either. I came here today to close this chapter and forget you altogether.”
“Ben—”
“No, you listen to me. I do not forgive you. I never will. But I can forget you, and that’s what I plan to do.”
“I’m sorry. Why can’t you take my apology and let this go?” I don’t know much about the man who hurt my husband, but this man right here, he isn’t sorry. He hasn’t changed. He is only saying this to gain something—maybe a way into Ben’s life to ask for money and new lawyers? I bet that isn’t too far off.
“You will never be sorry. I needed to see it in your face. To look in your eyes and not see myself in you. To know that I am different. I want you to know that you are dead to me, and my mother deserved better than you. She never deserved what you put her through. I hope that while you rot away in this place, you know I will walk this earth being a better man in spite of you. I hope you go the rest of your life knowing that you are a fucking monster.” With that, Ben gets up and leaves. The guards open the door, and I watch him go.
I go to stand without a word when Darren stops me.
“He’s better than I ever was. He may not know it, but I will never forgive myself for hurting them and losing him and his mother because of it. Take care of him for me.”
“Darren, this wasn’t for you. You taught him everything he shouldn’t be, and he is a better man. He doesn’t need you or your approval. And I hope he is right. I hope you spend the rest of your days knowing he is better than you are. That he is not the wonderful man he is because of you but in spite of you.” I shake my head and leave. With his father’s words heavy on my heart, I catch up with Ben and walk silently behind his tense form.
What I saw back there helped me understand Ben and his struggles. There is a deeper heartbreak there than Ben has ever let on, always shielding it with hate instead.
I will never forget that moment or the words his father left him with. Suddenly, it’s apparent to me that I’m a part of Ben’s old wounds but also a part of his newly healed scars.
* * *
“Ben?” We have been driving for a few minutes; I wanted to allow some space for him to breathe, but I can’t stay silent after what we went through back there with Darren.
“Yes.”
“What was it like in that home? Please tell me.” Ben has mentioned very briefly how bad it was, and sometimes how great it was, but there is so much more there.
“My mother was a saint, my father was a coward, and I was always in the cross fire.”
“Please,” I plead. That isn’t what I meant. He is slowly rebuilding that wall, the one he uses to keep himself safe. I need to see him knock it back down. Pulling up to a red light, he looks out the driver’s window, one hand on the wheel and the other rubbing the stubble on his chin. I hear a sniffle. Oh, Ben. God, I want to reach for him, but now isn’t the time.
“That house was like a dream and a nightmare all at once. The best memories I have, the only things I have left of my mother, took place there. But the same place holds memories that I so badly want to rip out of my head.” He takes the back of his hand and runs it across his cheeks, wiping at the tears. The light goes green, and that’s when I get a better look at his profile. His cheeks are red, the tears are brimming again, and he lets them fall. Ben being comfortable enough to cry and be vulnerable is admirable. There is nothing more mature than a human who can bare their soul.
“All I want is to take time to sit with those memories of her. To have that. But I can’t because they all lead back to that fucking house. That fucking coward. And me being selfish and not coming home.” Once again, I have to resist the urge to remind him that he wasn’t selfish and that it was not his fault. We both know that. His logic and his trauma are battling right now.
“Memories can be heaven-sent. But they are often more like a curse,” I say softly.
“You’re right. That’s why I try to run from them. But clearly running makes it worse.”
“Do you remember her voice?” I ask, and he nods.
“She used to sing all the time—hymns, oldies on the radio—and she was always humming.” He smiles. I love that smile. My stomach turns in terrible knots. I will never forget his smile. Maybe our child will have the same one. Maybe one day he will decide to be in the child’s life, and they will make him smile like that. I would be lucky to see it. No matter the ending of us, I will always miss everything that makes me love him.
Ben starts to hum a tune, a haunting but beautiful melody. I can’t place it, but within seconds, the humming is broken up by sobs. Maybe he is remembering her voice. Her smell. Her smile.
“Ben. I am sorry for everything. I know you miss her, and you want to remember the moments you spent together, but if it hurts too much right now, try to hold onto these things: her smell, her voice, and the looks she gave. Memories don’t have to be just places. You can let their being, be the memory.” I reach over and place my hand on his leg. He nods but doesn’t say anything else.
Ben and I may be over, but he doesn’t deserve to suffer. No one deserves to suffer. Ben is good. All he needs is someone to help him navigate life. I wish that person could have been me, but it wasn’t, and regardless of my pain, I want him to find happiness. There has to be happiness after me.