32. Ben
I waketo the sound of my phone vibrating on the nightstand and when I roll over to grab it, the bed beside me is empty. Blinking my eyes open, I try to focus on my phone, the time telling me it’s nearly nine. I’m about to throw it back onto the nightstand and go find Aida when another text message comes through.
Jason: She said yes!
Troy: Whoa dude, that’s awesome, congratulations!
I blink a couple of times, trying to wake up as my brain struggles to comprehend what the hell these messages in our group chat are about. Just as I realize that Jason has proposed and Annie said yes though, another message comes through.
Troy: Did you cry when you did it? Tell me you cried.
Jason: I didn’t fucking cry – she did though.
I sit up, resting against the headboard as I type out a response to my friend.
Me: Hey, that’s great! Congrats. We’ll have to celebrate when we get back to NY.
Jason: WE???
Me: We = me and Aida.
Jason: Holy shit! You two are serious huh?
Troy: Dude – wow, seriously?!
My friend’s surprise is to be expected. Hell, before this summer, my response to Jason’s news would have been a lot different too, probably something along the lines of me giving him shit about being tied down with the whole ball and chain thing. Now though, I’m genuinely happy for him.
Me: Yes, seriously, and yes, it’s serious. I really like her and I’m going to keep seeing her back in NY.
Jason: That’s really great, Ben. I mean I knew you liked her but…well…
He trails off and I know exactly what he’s thinking, what he wants to say. That I’m just a hook-up guy, not bothering with anything serious, just here to party and have fun. I can’t blame him for that considering it’s the image I’ve projected pretty much ever since I got my ass dumped by the chick who left me for Weston.
Me: I really like her…I mean, a lot.
I stop, unsure what else to say because I’ve kind of never really been in this situation with these guys before. Still, it’s true, I do really like Aida and it is serious and I am definitely going to keep seeing her back in New York. Shit, if I had my way, she’d come and live with me when we got back there, but I’m not sure she’s ready to take that step yet.
I type out another message, even though the dots jumping at the bottom of the screen tell me my friends are also writing something.
Me: She’s fucking great. I mean she met my dad and pretty much handed him his ass and then punched Weston in the face ??
Troy: SHE WHAT???
Jason: Your Dad is in town?
Me: My dad is here…to kick my ass about not showing up to work. And yeah, she punched the dick…I might actually be…
I don’t finish my message because typing the next two words feels really big. Like too soon, too big and somehow saying them out loud might jinx everything. I mean I know I have strong feelings for Aida and that she’s unlike any other girl I’ve ever been with, but telling my friends I’m in love with her just feels a little too…fuck I don’t know, scary right now.
Troy: Fuck me, I wish I could’ve seen her punch that dickhead!
Jason: So you’re not gonna work for your dad then? What are your plans?
Their different responses make me smile, as well as breathe a sigh of relief that they don’t seem to have noticed my almost confession. I also find myself taking Aida’s advice, as I type out a response to both of them about my future plans. Plans I’ve never told anyone about but Aida.
Me: The punch was fucking epic, we’ll fill you in when we get back to NY. As for work…I actually got myself a graphic design job with this cool shoe company. I never wanted to be an architect, that was always my dad’s jam. He isn’t happy about it, obviously, but I don’t give a shit, because I am. I’m really excited about the job.
I exhale, a weird sense of relief washing over me as I finally admit this to my friends. Just as the bubbles start up, signifying they are responding, I hear voices through the open bedroom door. Voices that belong to Aida and of all people, my dad.
Throwing my phone onto the bed, I scramble out and grab the first thing I can find, a pair of boardshorts that I discarded on the floor last night. Then I haul ass out of the bedroom and into the living area, where I find my dad and Aida, standing awkwardly together.
“Dad,” I blurt out, glancing quickly at Aida, who offers me a small smile. “What are you doing here?”
He scrubs a hand over his jaw, his button-down shirt and dress pants making him look weirdly out of place. Again. “I um…I was hoping we could talk,” he says, almost nervously.
I turn to Aida again, who is still smiling as she gives me a small nod. “Talk?” I ask, turning back to him. “About what?”
He exhales hard as Aida closes the distance between us, her hand resting on my arm as she puts her mouth to my ear. “Just hear him out,” she whispers, before pressing a kiss to my jaw and walking out of the room.
When I turn back to my dad, he’s watching me, an unreadable expression on his face. “That’s some girl you’ve got there,” he eventually says.
“She’s amazing,” I snap, not wanting to hear another shitty word from him about Aida. Yesterday was bad enough and I’m not sure I can tolerate him shitting on her again for being some trashy summer fling.
“I can see why you think that,” he says with a small nod. “She’s very loyal.”
I swallow hard, unsure what to say to that.
“Has a mean right hook too,” he now adds, an amused smile on his face.
“Weston deserved it,” I spit out. “He’s a?—”
“I know,” Dad says, cutting me off as he holds a hand up. “I um…I owe you an apology, Ben.”
I blink, unsure if I heard him correctly as I ask, “For what exactly?”
Dad exhales again, looking around the room now before he sits on the couch, gesturing to the opposite one as though I should do the same. I don’t move at first, a part of me wanting to push back like I usually do, but when he offers me a small smile, I relent, moving over to the couch to sit.
“I didn’t know the full story about you and Weston,” he says, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “How he stole your girlfriend, how he stopped you from getting that job three summers ago. I didn’t realize, Ben.”
I let out a hard laugh, shaking my head as I say, “Sure you didn’t.”
Dad looks at me, his gaze never wavering as he says again, “I didn’t know. I know his dad and I are friends, but well…that’s just not the kind of thing we talk about.”
“Your sons’ lives?”
“It’s not like that,” he says with a sigh. “Of course we are interested in your lives, but?—”
“But just the part that suits you,” I say, cutting him off. “Like me working in a job that I never wanted to do in the first place.”
Dad smooths his hands over his thighs, glancing down at the floor before he looks back up at me. “I wish you’d told me you never wanted to be an architect,” he says.
“I did!” I shout, flopping back on the couch in frustration.
“When you were younger,” he counters, palms up as if to say, how was he supposed to know. “I didn’t realize you felt so strongly against it.”
“Because you dismissed me when I said it,” I respond. “Assumed I had no idea about what I wanted to do and anyway it didn’t matter because I was expected to carry on the family tradition, no matter what.”
Dad runs a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath as he sits back on the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. “It does matter, Ben,” he says quietly. “You’re my son and I’ve always wanted the best for you.”
“As long as that was also what was best for you,” I scoff.
“That’s not true,” he replies, and it surprises me that he sounds legitimately hurt that I wouldn’t believe him. “I know I push you hard,” he continues, his gaze never leaving mine. “But it’s because I want the best for you. I want you to have everything you’ve ever wanted.”
“Even if that means I don’t want to become an architect?” I ask.
He sits forward again, his hands clasped in front of him. “Even then,” he says with a nod.
I mirror his position, wishing I’d pulled a T-shirt on if only so I looked less like the party boy beach bum he thinks I am. “I have a job you know,” I say nervously.
Dad smiles now, the movement so unexpected that I almost don’t recognize him when he does it. “Yeah, your girlfriend, Aida might have mentioned that when she was letting rip at me yesterday.”
Now it’s me smiling as I say, “Can’t say you didn’t deserve it.”
Dad chuckles. “Can’t say you’re wrong there,” he admits, and I swear if I wasn’t already sitting down, I might have actually collapsed in shock. “So graphic design huh?”
“Yeah,” I reply with a nod. “This cool shoe company, they’re really popular and in the process of expanding their range. They want me to design their graphics and help out with shoe designs.”
“And this is what you want to do?” Dad asks, still watching me.
“It is,” I tell him.
He nods, giving me another smile as he says, “In that case, I’m really happy for you, Ben.” I blink, literally fucking speechless at his answer. He must be able to tell, because he just laughs and says, “Contrary to popular opinion, I do want you to be happy you know.”
“Sometimes it’s hard to tell,” I say with a smirk.
“Yeah, look, I get that,” he admits. “And I am sorry about the whole thing with Weston. Stealing your girlfriend is not?—”
“You know he got her pregnant and then forced her to have an abortion, don’t you?” I say, cutting in.
Dad’s eyes widen and I can tell from the genuinely shocked look on his face that he had no idea about this part. No idea that his best friend’s son, the fucking golden child, not only stole my girlfriend, but treated her like shit, throwing her away when she’d become tainted in his eyes.
“Are you serious?” he asks.
“Yeah, Dad, I am,” I reply, my tone hard.
“Jesus,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I really…I…shit, I had no idea.”
I tip my head to the side, shrugging a little as I say, “Not so perfect now, is he?”
“Ben, I never said Weston was perfect,” he says, putting his hand up.
I let out a hard laugh. “Sure, but you didn’t exactly hide the fact you thought he was the better son or that you wish I could be more like him, did you?”
“That’s…that’s not true,” he stammers. “And this…god, I would never want a son who behaves like that.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, well, you don’t exactly act like you want a son like me either, do you, Dad,” I say, just as a knock sounds at the still open front door.
“Yoo hoo!” Grandma shouts as she and Ed walk into the house, a bottle of champagne in her hand. “Aida, where are you?” Grandma now asks, as I stand from the couch, a smile on my face because I know exactly why she’s here.
“Hey, Grandma,” I say, walking over to give her a hug.
“Oh, Benji,” she says, smiling up at me. “Where is that lovely girlfriend of yours? I believe we need to celebrate.”
Chuckling, I throw an arm around her shoulders. “Celebrate what exactly?” I ask teasingly.
Grandma smiles up at me. “Well, Aida punching that dick in the face of course. We need to welcome her to the club.”
Laughing, I guide her into the living room, watching as Dad stands from the couch and faces us. “Sounds like a great idea, Grandma,” I say, looking at my dad. “Don’t you think so, Dad?”