17. Benji #2
Every single muscle in my body tensed. I couldn’t let this sit on me, but I couldn’t tell them the whole truth either.
The truth meant talking about how Pete saw me holding Sam, and Dad would understand that even less than if I just admitted to the accusation.
He always prided himself on being of the old guard, the kind of Red Creek man who was still a real man, not one of those namby-pamby young’uns . And I knew exactly what that meant.
“It was self-defense,” I said, not knowing how else to put it.
A breathless laugh escaped my Dad as he shook his head.
Of course, he didn’t believe that. I wouldn’t either if I were him, knowing Pete isn’t exactly someone to fear with those thin arms.
“Well, not self-defense, but... I was defending Sam.”
This did something. Dad looked up, his eyes narrowing like he was giving the idea a chance. He glanced at Mom, exchanging a look with her before returning his gaze to me.
"This makes no sense?—”
“But it’s the truth. Pete...” My chest quivered. “...he called him a word no one deserves to be called. And I couldn’t allow this.”
“Don’t pull him into this, son?—”
“I’m not pulling anyone?—”
“Oh, stop it,” Dad yelled. “I’ve had it with your lies. As if that innocent boy would have any problems with Peter.”
I drove my fists into the wall. The room answered with a dreadful crack. Dust sifted down from the seam where the plaster split, and at least that made Dad shut up for a second. The wallpaper rustled against my back, and for a moment, it felt like the house might fold on us.
“Why can’t you ever believe me?”
Dad’s jaw tightened, a muscle in his cheek jumping. “Because in the last two minutes alone, you said one contradictory thing after another.”
I turned to Mom, but she shook her head, hiding her eyes behind her hands, clearly ready to cry, not wanting to hear what I had to say either.
I had to tell them. Everything .
If I really cracked Pete’s bones or even broke his arm, I was going to own it, but I couldn’t have my parents believe his bullcrap.
He’d play this to his advantage until he had everyone pitted against me.
That was the guy he was. I didn’t care if he did that with his side of the family, or Chelsea—fuck, I wouldn’t even care about Dad.
But my Mom? I couldn’t have her turn against me, too.
And she’d understand why if she only heard it from me. She would, right? She always did...
“Pete saw us,” I said, my voice shaking. The words wanted to stay in my throat, but I forced them out. “He saw how we sat at the lake, how...” My face clenched together, my eyes pressing shut. “...how I had my arms wrapped around Sam.”
Saying it out loud made my heart pound so hard it knocked the strength from my legs. I wanted to keep standing, prove my reasoning was solid, but before I could get out another word, my legs gave in, dropping me into a crouch, my body folding over my knees.
“You have to understand,” I pressed on, the words hammering out of me now. “Pete said the most horrible stuff to us until I lost it. I didn’t care what he said to me, but he made it sound like Sam would never hear the end of it either. I couldn’t let that happen. I needed to protect him.”
My chest heaved, but it wouldn’t fill with air. The silence crushed me, as if this was the last calm before a blade came down.
“Why,” my Dad said, his voice quieter. “Why did you have your arms wrapped around Sam?”
“Because he was cold...”
I heard myself, heard how it sounded like a lie, even if it was the truth. But they’d never take my word for it...
“Because I like him,” I whispered.
My voice broke. I folded my hands over my head, rocking back and forth, trying to calm myself, but it didn’t work. I had laid it all out, even though I had only known for a few hours and hadn’t even come close to wrapping my head around it myself.
My eyes bulged and watered faster than I could squeeze them shut. I hadn’t cried since I was in the single digits. Real men don’t cry, that’s what Dad used to say. With that confession, it didn’t matter anymore. I would never be a real man in his eyes after this, anyway.
“I’m sorry,” I said over and over, more out of reflex.
I didn’t know what exactly I was apologizing for, but it didn’t matter.
This was it. I had one night—not even a whole night, only a few hours—of feeling free.
I got to taste what a happy life could be like, but it had already caught up with me. Nothing would ever be the same again.
A soft touch on my shoulder tried to pull me out of it, fingers feeling their way forward like they were searching for a way to tell me it was going to be okay. I wanted to let them in, let them console me, but every single muscle in my body clamped so hard I just couldn’t.
“Benji,” my Dad said, making me look up. A chill shot through me when I saw it was his hand on my shoulder. “Does...” His face was as clenched as mine. “Does ‘ like’ mean what I think it does?”
I wanted to say something, take it back, deny, scream, yell—but it was too late for that. The truth was out. And my mouth was unable to produce anything but whimpers. My head sank, hiding between my knees.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice now breaking, too. “I should have listened to your side of the story first.” He pulled me forward, clumsily wrapping his arms around my back. “It’s still no excuse to go that hard on Pete, but... If someone had insulted the person I like , I would've gone nuts, too.”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” I whimpered, still resisting his embrace. “I didn’t want more than to scare Peter off, so he’d leave Sam alone. Honest.”
“I know.” He patted my back, sniffling now, too. “I believe you. Every word.”
Worn out from fighting, my body sagged against his. My cheek pressed into his shirt as I let go, unable to hold my tears back.
The floor creaked softly as someone stepped closer. Before I could look up, Mom wrapped herself around both of us. Tears fell onto my hair, leaving the spots they hit wet and cold.
The three of us couldn’t have sunk lower. This was as close to the ground as we could get. But at least there was one good thing about it: now we all knew that we were still fighting together in this shitshow we call life.