25. Benji #2
Her eyes narrowed, disbelief sharpening her features. “Why would you tell him to call me?”
“Because he’s leaving soon? For college? I figured you knew.”
Her jaw clenched like the idea was too far-fetched to be anything but a lie. “I... I didn’t know he had made up his mind.”
“Sure, he has. It’s his dream. Did you really think he’d give that up?”
“Of course not.”
“Well, good, then call him. Because, despite him not saying anything, I think your silent treatment hits him hard. You can’t want him to be as sad and lonely as my mom was when you stopped reaching out.
He needs all the support he can get, now more than ever.
I’m doing what I can, but I don’t know the first thing about leases and moving and stuff. ”
“You’re helping him?” Her gaze dropped at the strawberries. Her fingers tapped against the table as she took her time thinking about it. “I have to admit... I thought you would hold him back.”
Her words didn’t come as a surprise.
“Why should I? If I could, I’d move with him and take care of the apartment, food, and everything, so he could focus entirely on his degree.
But I can’t leave my mom. So, the least I can do is make sure he leaves with as much support as possible.
You don’t have to like me; I can live with that. But, please don’t punish Sam for it.”
“I never said I don’t like you.”
“Not to my face.”
She glared, but then nodded like she was admitting to it. “You really aren’t afraid to speak your mind.”
“It’s not like you could like me any less.”
“You’re quite the individual. I’ll give you that.” A short laugh escaped her, unexpected even to her. Her eyes softened, settling on me. “Fine. You win. I’ll talk to Sam.”
“Thank you. But this wasn’t about winning—it’s about Sam.”
“You really care about him, huh?”
“That doesn’t even come close.”
Her gaze sharpened, testing me. “What do you like about Sam?”
“Everything,” I replied, but chuckled straight away, shaking my head. “But that’s probably not the right answer.”
“You got that right.”
“He is smart and hard-working, and open-minded. And, despite what people think when they look at him, he’s strong. Not just his muscles, but, like, in his head? Does that make sense?”
“You mean his personality?”
“Yes, that. He keeps going, no matter what. Being around him makes me feel like all the shit out there is worth pushing through. When he’s around, I feel warm in a good way. Which makes me really dread the time when I can’t see him every day anymore.”
The words left my mouth, and with them came something I hadn’t expected: a wave of unbearable loneliness.
Sam wasn’t even gone yet, but he would be soon.
Six weeks isn’t tomorrow, but it’s close enough to dread already.
Everything I’d been pushing down for days bubbled up into my eyes before I could stop it.
I turned away, wiping my face before she could see it. “Sorry,” I said, trying to steady my voice. I couldn’t cry now. Not in front of her. Not like this. But the harder I tried to hold it back, the more painful and real his leaving felt.
“Are you crying?”
“No,” I snapped, stabilizing myself at the counter.
“Maybe a little bit.” I wiped and wiped, but no matter how much I did it, the tears wouldn’t fucking leave me alone.
“Sorry. I’ll get out of your way now,” I said and rushed past her, into the hallway.
She’d seen enough. This was a side I didn’t need—or want—to share with her.
I had my hand on the doorknob to my room when Mom stepped out of the bathroom, her face bright with a smile that vanished the instant she saw me. Without thinking, I jumped into my room and locked the door behind me.
“Benji?” she called from the other side. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I’m okay,” I lied, noticing how weak my voice sounded.
Pressing my ear against the door, I waited, doing my best to suppress my hitching breaths, until I heard her footsteps shuffle away.
When the hallway finally quieted down, I exhaled and pulled away from the door.
I paced my room, trying to calm down. The plush frog Sam had won me caught my eye on the bed.
I grabbed it and pressed it to my chest, burying my nose in it, breathing him in like a remedy.
The scent took me back to our night out, to his laugh, to the warmth his presence made me feel, and I let that memory hold me up—until a soft knock pulled me out of it.
“Benji, please open the door,” Mom said. “Brenda told me about Sam. And I think we should really talk about that, too.”
“Nothing is going to change anyway,” I shot back and hated the hardness in my voice immediately.
“I beg to differ. So please.”
I wasn’t in the mood. I wanted out—out of this room, into Sam’s arms, anywhere that wasn’t the same four walls I’d been stuck in my whole life, even knowing I’d end up back here alone eventually.
But if I wanted to leave tonight, there was no way around this conversation.
Even if I climbed out the window, I’d still have to grab my car keys from the living room. The math was merciless.
My pulse hammered, but my feet moved anyway. I walked to the door, put my hand on the knob, and let the inevitability settle for just a second before I pulled it open.
“Sorry, Mom,” I said, eyes on the carpet, because looking at her felt dangerous.
“What are you apologizing for?” She took my forearms in both hands and tipped my face up until I met her eyes. “Look at me, sweetie. We need to talk.”