Chapter Thirty Five #2
Benjamin answers my FaceTime calls when I call him—he eats crackers when I get home—but he does nothing else.
He hardly even looks at me. We’ve been doing this routine for a week now and I think maybe him being alone is really bad for him after all.
I’m starting to look into recovery centers for victims.
Benjamin’s sitting on the couch, staring at the black TV when I get home. Kneeling in front of him I grab his hand, but he doesn’t hold mine back.
“Baby? I’m home.” He looks at me for a moment—blinks and looks back at the TV. “You won’t talk to me still? Really won’t look at me?” Nothing. Maybe this is my punishment for failing him. He’s here with me—but he’s not—not really. “Please.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I see my mom calling—most likely to check up on us.
“I’ll be right back.” I tell Benjamin, heading to the bedroom. “Hey, Momma—what’s up?”
“Aaron.” She sounds serious, sad, like she’s been crying.
“Felix? Is he—”
“Ronnie.” She gasps a bit—like she’s catching her breath between sobs. Everyone’s always crying around me.
“What about him?” Maybe she found out I beat the shit out of him and is upset with me. Oh well.
“He killed himself.” Once again everything around me seems to freeze. Her voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater. “He was found in the home. Shot himself in the head.”
“Oh my God.” My hand covers my mouth, tears filling my eyes. Not for Ronnie—but for Benjamin. Apparently, Mom is on the same page.
“Our poor Bear… he has no family now. Both parents’ dead.
Aaron—Little Bird—baby—you have to tell him.
I know right now is the worst timing but if he finds out on his own it’ll be so much worse.
” She’s right, I know she is. But fuck. Fuck!
How can I do this to him? How can I fuck up his world even more?
“Okay.” I whisper.
“I love you, baby.”
“I love you too.” I hang up the phone, slowly walking back to the living room.
I have to look at my boyfriend who is already not dealing well with being assaulted a second time and tell him his dad killed himself in the same house his mother killed herself.
If I throw him in the truck now and drive away—never turning back—would that make everything easier?
Would he be happier? I get no warning before I’m forced to break Benjamin’s heart even further. I’m just pushed out onto the ledge.
Benjamin is in the same spot I left him in. I retake my spot kneeling in front of him, taking a deep breath.
“Button—I just got some really… big news.” His eyes meet mine, waiting.
I’m fidgeting. “I… My mom called and it’s all over the news.
” I’m stalling—I know I am. He’s just waiting.
If I don’t tell him and he sees it himself, how will he survive it?
“Ronnie. He shot himself in the head. At the house. He’s dead. ”
There’s a small moment of shock on his face before it’s back to that blank, empty expression. There are tears in his eyes, but he does not let them fall.
“I’m so sorry. I know it’s hard on top of everything else.
What can I do? How can I help you?” He says nothing, does nothing. After a moment—I do the only thing I know how to do.
I scoop him up and take him to bed, pulling him against my side and holding on tight. He shoves his face into my neck, but he does not tangle his legs with mine. He does not wrap his arms around me.
◆◆◆
It’s been two and a half months since the English Literature
Orientation party. Benjamin still won’t talk—barely acknowledges I’m there at all. He sits and scratches his wrists, taming the desire, the sadness. If Felix invites himself over, Benjamin locks himself in our bedroom until I assure him Fe left. No one else bothers to try anymore.
At night he lets me hold him and before bed he’ll shower.
But that’s about as far as his activities go.
As far as his affection will reach. I dress him in his pajamas and into his lounge clothes the next morning—I brush his hair and sometimes I even brush his teeth.
There are some days where even that is too much for him to do alone.
And almost every single night without fail—he wakes up screaming for me—begging for me to help him. He’ll sob and sob—shaking like a leaf. That is the only time I get to hear his voice.
“Aaron—Aaron help me! Oh God—please make it stop—please come get me, Aaron…”
And I’m awake—grabbing him and pulling him to me.
“I’m here Button. I’ve got you—it’s over. I got you.”
And slowly he’ll calm and fall asleep once more.
This overwhelming guilt is eating away at me.
Knowing that for the second time—under the same roof as me—Benjamin was traumatized.
I hate myself for it. I’ll spend the rest of our lives making up for it.
And he’ll get better, I know he will. I found a center not too far from Lancaster that takes in assault victims and helps them continue on afterward.
To deal with the emotional pain. I know he won’t want to go.
I know he’ll hate me. But maybe he’ll understand by the time he’s released.
Or maybe he won’t—but he’ll be healing. Either way—I’ll visit him all the time.
I’m getting home from work, walking up to the apartment. I’m nervous to tell him about it but I can’t just lure him to the car and throw him out in front of the building.
The living room is empty as I’m walking through, which can only mean Benjamin’s lying in our bed. I head toward the back.
“Button—I’m home.” I push open the bedroom door and peer over at the bed. Empty. Huh? He doesn’t leave the house, so he has to be here somewhere. That really only leaves the bathroom and the kitchen.
I walk to the bathroom door and knock.
“Baby—you in there?” There is no light coming from under the door. Fear, dread, anxiety. All of it fills my body—my soul. I throw the door open, but the bathroom is empty too. I’m sprinting into the kitchen, my heart in my throat. Please. Please be in here.
The kitchen is vacant. Fuck.
What does this mean? Did he go on a walk? Pulling my phone out—I call his phone.
Looks like you couldn’t reach me—sorry. Leave me a message. Beep
When we FaceTimed at noon today, he was home. Quiet and absent-minded—but home. Where is he? What’s going on? I’m pacing the kitchen, gripping at my hair. Why would he just leave?
He refused to go outside for two months—it doesn’t make sense. Maybe he’s in the gym? Exercise gives endorphins so maybe he’s trying something different?
I see something sitting on the island in our kitchen and I feel it as my heart drops. As the barbed wire wraps itself around my neck. This feeling of dread—this sense of sorrow settles over me and our empty apartment as I cry out softly. I think I know what that is.
On the counter sits the button. The necklace he never took off—not when I broke his heart—not when he was strung out—not the last time he was assaulted. Now it sits on our kitchen island, and I think it’s the first time he’s taken it off since he made it.
There’s a note next to it. A very small piece of paper with Benjamin’s small, neat handwriting sprawled onto it.
I love you—my little blue bird.
I’ll find you in the next life - Button
I fall to my knees—the note crumpled in my hand, the button in the other. There’s a terribly loud noise throughout the house and it takes me a moment to realize it’s me. I’m screaming—then I’m sobbing and I can’t move. I cry until I throw up. Then reality sets in and I panic.
“No, no, no. Please, fuck—please.” I pull my phone out, dialing Felix.
“Hey, Bub.”
“Felix.”
“Aaron?! What’s going on?” I’m sobbing into the phone—hoping he understands me.
“He’s gone! He left a note. Fuck! He left a goodbye note! Aw, fuck!” I tuck my head between my knees, sobbing.
“Fuck—okay. Breathe, Aaron. Let’s go look for him, we’ll find him. We will—I promise.” It’s an empty promise and we both know it, but it gets me off the floor.
I go to the police station first.
The deputy at the front desk looks up at me when I run in—his eyes widening.
“Sir—are you okay?” I shake my head, slamming a hand on the counter.
“My boyfriend is suicidal and missing. Please, you have to find him. He left a note—he’s going to kill himself.” The deputy jumps out of his seat, grabbing a document and stumbling over his words.
“Right—okay. W-what’s his name?”
“Benjamin Dickinson. 5’11—blonde, brown eyes—relatively skinny—nose piercing—21 years old.” I don’t have time for all of these questions. The deputy is writing it all down quickly.
“When did you see him last?”
“He was at our apartment by UA around noon the last time I saw him.”
“Your name?”
“Aaron Archer.” I can’t believe I’m here again. I can’t believe he’s slipping through my fingers again. The deputy speaks into the walkie-talkie on his shirt.
“All units—any patrol cars near or around the apartments surrounding UA search for a 21-year-old male—blonde—5’11—brown eyes.
Name: Benjamin Dickinson. Missing person—believed to be suicidal.
” He turns back to me, eyes determined and sympathetic.
“I’m going to call the local news station—see if they can’t put something up.
Please leave your number so we can contact you when he’s found. ”
When he’s found. I sigh—just a bit of my panic lifting as the police are actually useful this go-around.
“Here—and thank you. Please let me know.” I run from the building, jumping back into my truck.
I can’t go on without him. He doesn’t deserve this—all of this pain—this torture.
I wanted to protect him, to keep him safe and loved all wrapped up in my arms. And now I don’t even know if he’s alive.
I can feel the weight of the button and the note in my pocket.
The weight of this fucking life he lives on my chest. He wanted to live for me so badly.
He wanted to have a life together and build a family.
Now—he sees no path forward. Now—he’s searching for us in a new lifetime. I feel fucking sick.
Then what? He leaves me for the other Aaron and I’m here? Without him? How is that fair? I’m meant to give him up and suffer alone. No—I won’t.
I will find him and I’ll drag his ass right back to our home where I’ll tie him to our bed until I can get him help. Then we’ll grow old together. Fuck other lifetimes—fuck other Aarons.
My phone rings—a call from my mom.
“Hello?”
“Aaron—he wasn’t at the house. It was empty. I don’t think he’s in Lancaster.” She’s crying and I can hear Dad in the background trying to console her.
“Okay. I’ll find him.” I hang up and just like Felix—I make my empty promise.
Felix calls as well. At some point the next morning—after searching all night—he’s crying to me on the phone. “Bub—I can’t… I can’t find him. What do we do? God—what do I do?”
“Felix, baby—take a breath.” I hear Kayla in the background talking gently to my brother.
“I don’t know. But if he dies—I… Felix, I have to find him.
Let me know if you think of anything.” I end the call.
I can’t hear his cries. I can’t hear the misery of losing your best friend of 14 years.
I can’t add his pain to mine. I will collapse—and right now I have to find Benjamin.
I have no purpose if he’s not here. I can’t lose him—not after everything we’ve been through to get to each other.
There are so many things I haven’t got the chance to say. So many things we never got to do. I want to hold him for longer—kiss him harder—fuck him deeper. I want to sit him down and tell him in chronological order every single time I’ve seen him and not been able to breathe.
You never know how badly you want something until you’re told you can’t have it. You never realize how many moments you’ve wasted until there aren’t any left.
It’s later that evening, around the 24-hour mark, that I get a call from Josh and we get our first break.
“Aaron! Man—I don’t know how true it is but a buddy of mine said they saw Bear on Pinewood just a bit ago.” My heart fucking leaps.
He’s alive!
“Pinewood Ave? Why would he be there?” I’m turning my truck around—speeding across town to where that edge of the town is.
“Well… I think…”
“Spit it out.” I don’t have time for the games.
“I’m pretty sure there’s a bridge not too far past Pinewood—just outside of town. There’s a river under it—but it’s high enough to…” I hang up the phone.
“FUCK!” I slam my fists into the steering wheel repeatedly. I’m ten minutes from Pinewood—and if the bridge is past it then maybe fifteen—twenty—from Benjamin.
As I’m speeding down the back roads of our little college town, I realize something fucking horrifying. Something that makes bile rise in my throat.
Veronica’s ashes… they were not on the living room mantle when I ran out yesterday.