31. Aida
Turnsout punching someone is nothing like it is in the movies. I think I might have broken my hand. Weston’s stupid face was harder than I thought it would be, and now my knuckles are bloody, and my hand is swollen.
Before the chaos can ensue, Ben is escorting me out of the bar, his arm linked through mine, tugging me away from Weston, who is whining like a baby. It feels like everyone in the bar rushed to his side, including Ben’s dad.
“Do you think my hand is broken?” I desperately ask Ben, shaking it to try to ease the pain. It’s throbbing like the bass in one of those souped-up cars.
“You’ve never punched someone, have you?” Ben asks, letting out a chuckle when he looks over at me, my face scrunched, my hand now clutched against my chest.
“Yes, I have!” I lie, sounding insulted. “I really nailed Weston, like Million Dollar Baby. Bam, knocked that asshole out.”
“I wouldn’t take it that far. He was still standing,” Ben teases, slinging an arm around my shoulder, guiding me back toward the house. “But for real, who have you ever punched?”
“My sister, obviously,” I say, shrugging. “Our fights during our teenage years were brutal. Once I broke her nose by hitting her with the TV remote.”
“Well, I’m not sure that counts, but you can now say you officially got into a fight and when anyone asks how you busted up your hand, you can say a bar fight,” Ben announces, sounding far too proud of me. He throws his hands in the air, yelling out, “My girlfriend is a badass!”
“You never answered my question,” I now say, whining a little, pushing my bottom lip out. “Do you think it’s broken?”
“No, Aida, I don’t. Punching someone hurts like a motherfucker, but you’ll be okay. We’ll go home and put some ice on it and have a drink. You’ll be just fine tomorrow.” He pulls me close, kissing the side of my head as we walk.
“Oh my god, is Weston going to sue me?” I suddenly shriek out, realizing I’ve just assaulted someone. I didn’t even think about it when I raised my fist and collided it with Weston’s nose.
“Why would he sue you?” Ben asks, his nose wrinkled up, a confused look on his face.
“Because I assaulted him,” I wail, my mind racing with how my mom will respond to this. She’s going to be so mad at me. My dad will probably secretly be proud of me, and Amanda will certainly think it’s the coolest thing I’ve ever done.
“Newsflash, Aida, you aren’t the first person on this island to punch Weston. It’s kinda an annual thing, sometimes even biennial and triennial,” Ben replies, and I can’t tell if he’s joking or not. “It may even happen in the off-season.”
“So what you’re saying is that Weston gets punched in the face on the regular?” I ask, approaching my house, we head up the stairs.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. I think Ed may have even punched Weston,” Ben says, and just the thought of golf-playing, martini-making, low-key Ed hitting someone is comical.
“If you had said Miriam has punched Weston, I might have believed you, but Ed, come on!” I counter, laughing.
“Okay, maybe Ed hasn’t, but you are not the only one. The number of tourists who punch him is unmatched. That dick is always hitting on someone’s girlfriend or wife and deserves to be socked,” Ben barks out, slightly angry now. Only Weston can bring out this kind of rage in him.
Ben is generally chill, and more fun than anything, but bring up Weston, and everything changes. As much as I feel bad, I’m also happy I punched him. He deserved it. Not just because he stole Ben’s girlfriend all those years ago, but because he thinks he’s so fucking great. I would never end up with a guy like him. I can see right through his smarmy fake persona.
“Now I’m guessing I’ll be on your dad’s shit list for sure. Punching his best friend’s kid doesn’t really bode well for him liking me. Not that he did anyway.”
“Please, Aida. You don’t need to worry about what my dad thinks about you. I know you’re amazing, and so does my grandma. Those are the only people who matter,” Ben says, reassuring me.
“I know you like to joke about it, but Ben, it’s super shitty that your dad doesn’t care that Weston hurt you, and it’s even shittier that your dad doesn’t realize you are more than just some party guy,” I say, trying to convince him, but he just shakes his head.
“Let it go, Aida. I did a long time ago. It is what it is. He will never get over that I don’t want to be an architect. I’ve ruined his dream for his only son.”
Ben walks over from the freezer carrying a bag full of ice. He hands it to me, motioning to my banged up and swollen knuckles.
As soon as I place it on my hand, I let out a loud gasp, the coolness of the ice nearly stinging. It burns more than the pain of the punch, but I know it will help.
“Sorry I ruined our first real date,” I sheepishly say, flopping down on the couch, and Ben follows, sitting down next to me, his feet propped on the coffee table.
“Nah,” Ben says, brushing it off. “Watching you hit Weston was the best date I’ve ever been on. Want to just order some pizza?”
We spent the evening watching TV and eating pizza, the punch heard around the world was a continued topic of discussion too. I think Ben was really impressed with my ability to throw a punch. But in the end, I think I just caught Weston off-guard. Some might even call it a sucker punch.
Either way, he deserved it.
I roll over with Ben still sound asleep beside me. I can hear the soft and slow rhythm of his breathing, and I ease myself from the bed. I don’t want to wake him. Yesterday was stressful and I want him to sleep in and relax.
I still can’t believe how his father is treating him. It’s ridiculous that he’d rather not speak to his son than accept he doesn’t want to go into the same profession. It’s not like Ben isn’t doing anything. And I get that he wanted to take the summer off before diving into the real world. It’s exactly what I did.
I took this job watching the Henderson’s house so I could unplug and literally do nothing before starting law school. There’s nothing wrong with that.
I slip out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly, my feet padding on the wood floor and into the kitchen. The pizza box from last night is still on the counter along with an empty bottle of wine. I grab both, and head outside to put them in the garbage.
I love the stillness of this small town. You can hear nature, everything from the waves to the birds chirping to the sounds of crabs moving through the rocks and sand.
I stop when I reach the bottom of the stairs, closing my eyes to take it all in. It’s going to be over before I know it. Back to the hustle and bustle and noise of the big city.
I bask in the calm, the quiet, the feeling of complete and utter relaxation. Even though I’m going to New York, I will have to make a few trips back here just to unwind. I’m sure Miriam would have no problem letting Ben and me stay with her for a weekend or two.
When I open my eyes, Ben’s dad is standing in the driveway of his house, his phone in his hand as if he was just about to make a call.
We lock eyes for a few seconds, and I don’t even know what to say. I have nothing to say to him. He’s the one who should have something to say to me, especially after he called me stupid.
“How’s that hand doing?” he says, stepping closer to me as I toss the box and bottle into the garbage can, the lid slamming closed. I scrunch up my nose, worried the sound may have woken Ben.
“It’s fine,” I curtly reply, moving it a little, and while it’s sore, it’s not nearly as bad as I would have thought.
“You’ve got yourself quite the right hook. You ever think of joining the Olympic boxing team?” He smiles at me, trying to make small talk, but I’m not up for it. Again, he owes me an apology. He owes Ben one too.
“Weston deserved it. I know you don’t care, but he treated Ben like shit, and you act like it didn’t happen. It may have been just a high school girlfriend or even a summer fling, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a terrible thing to do,” I say, a bite to my words. “Think about the first girl who ever broke your heart? You felt like you were going to die. That’s how Ben felt, and you dismissed it. You dismiss everything.”
I don’t even really know this man, and here I go again with my verbal diarrhea. I’m now fully involved in this family drama.
Ben’s dad lets out a hard sigh, shoving his phone into his pocket, he runs a hand through his hair. He looks so much like Ben and that’s interesting with how different they are. Clearly genetics took over the looks, but the personality was created on its own.
“I don’t think we ever formally met,” is his response to my diatribe, and I shouldn’t be surprised but I am. What the hell? Ben wasn’t kidding when he said his dad only cares about his job, and Ben working for his firm.
“That’s all you have to say?” I hiss, not bothering with introductions. “I know you think Weston is the perfect son, but is that what you really want? You want someone who just does everything they’re told? Someone who is just there to boost your ego and lie to you? Someone who is a complete dick behind closed doors?”
I cross my arms over my chest, letting out a hard sigh, waiting for my words to sink in. Not like they sank in last time or the time before that.
“If you can’t see that your son is better than Weston, that’s on you,” I add, my words loud in the calm, stillness of the quiet street. “And by the way, my name is Aida, and if you didn’t get the message last time, I’m not just some summer fling.”
“Well, Aida,” he now says, but his words are softer, and the flush on his cheeks says he’s uncomfortable. “You are certainly not one to shy away from an argument. Looks like you’ll make a great lawyer someday.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m Robert, since we skipped over that,” he says, a reminder of how things went when we first met. “You’ve said a lot in the few minutes we’ve interacted.”
“Obviously not enough to open your eyes to how you’re ruining your relationship with your son,” I hit back, angry about how he treats Ben.
And while when I first met Ben, my impression of him was a loser party boy who had no future and was living off his parents. Part of that might have been true, it isn’t who he is. He can be the guy who has a great time at a party, but also the guy who has an amazing job waiting for him.
“Actually,” Robert starts, stopping to look around, an uncomfortable silence falling over us. “Weston said some pretty horrible things about Ben last night after you hit him. Really opened my eyes.”
“Oh really?”
“He admitted to stealing Ben’s girlfriend, saying he deserved it. He also admitted to sabotaging Ben’s opportunity to get a job on the island one summer.” Robert shakes his head. “Really showed his true colors, and I regret not seeing it before.”
I stand there, taking in what Robert has just said, hoping this is just what he needs to mend his relationship with Ben. The only trouble is, will Ben be willing to let his dad in? It’s going to be a tough sell, and I’m guessing Robert is going to put me in charge of convincing Ben.
“Looks like you might have some apologizing to do,” I reply, giving him a hard stare.
“Yeah.”