20I was still pretending to do some homework when my mother came through the front door about fifteen minutes later. She smiled, obviously happy that I was doing homework, and asked how my day was. I told her that it was fine, just like I did every day, and told her that my dad wasn't home yet, when she asked where he was. My mother and I never had real conversations because neither of us wanted to fight and we both knew it would probably end up happening. Even when I was younger, we avoided real, meaningful conversations because we ended up arguing. I was closer to my father than to her, which is probably obvious by this point. She and I just didn't see eye to eye, never had and I wasn't sure if we ever would.
She smiled at me again before leaving the living room and I didn't bother to look at where she'd gone. I wanted to call Tiara and tell her what had happened, but knew she was hanging out with Aiken and I didn't want to bother them. A part of me even wanted to tell my mother; I just needed to tell someone, but knew that if I'd told her that I'd never see Ben again. And I didn't want that. But I knew that something was wrong, and I wondered how he was going to "make it up to me" like he had said. I couldn't stop thinking about him and those words he'd said to me.
"Dominique, can you come here a minute?"
I heard my mother calling me from the next room, the kitchen, and I stood up without thinking twice and slowly made my way into the doorway. She was sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper, drinking a cup of coffee and waiting for me. I just stood in the doorway.
"Come on, sit down." She motioned me over with her hand, and I reluctantly walked forward and sat down across from her at the table.
"What's up, Mom?" I questioned. She didn't do things like this very often. She usually left me alone and let me do my own thing while I was home, although still controlled my every move when I wanted to leave the house.
"Nothing, I just thought since you were sitting in there and I was sitting in here, we could sit together."
I nodded, without a word, and stared at my hands. It should not have been awkward, me sitting there across from my mother, but she felt like a stranger for a second. Someone I didn't really know all that well, and it bothered me a little. I decided I'd try to make the best of it, and asked, surprising her, "So, how is the daycare?"
"Oh," she began, a bit taken back, "it's good, pretty much the same as always."
I didn't ask about her work very often, and she was used to that. I overheard her telling my father story after story about the toddlers doing cute things or the older children making crafts for their parents, but she never directly told me much about it. It wasn't that I didn't care, I did, but I guess she thought that sort of thing wouldn't be cute or funny to me.
"That's good." I replied, the only thing that came to my mind.
"How's Tiara? And her mother?"
"Good, Joanne works a lot, you know, but Tiara is good. She and Aiken are really happy together." I answered, trying to emphasize that Tiara was allowed to have a boyfriend. My mother got the hint.
"Dominique, I know you think it's unfair that Tiara and your other friends are dating but I just don't feel that boys should be that important in your life, at sixteen. You have school to think about." Her voice was calm, as if she thought that this time I would totally agree with her. Yeah, right.
"I know, but school really isn't that hard. And I don't have to think about college until this time next year." I began, and, surprisingly, she reminded quiet to let me finish, "I'm not stupid, Mom, I know what's right and what's wrong, I know not to do drugs and stuff, and I know not to have sex. It's not even about sex."
"Dominique," her voice wasn't so calm anymore, "you are sixteen, you shouldn't even be thinking about that."
"That's the thing, Mom, I'm not."
"It sure seems like you are."
"Mom, you don't know what I'm thinking about, and you can't just assume all the time." I told her, a bit annoyed but remaining calm.
"Honey, I thought we had an understanding. When you're eighteen you can start hanging out with boys and looking for that special one." She smiled now, and I wondered who the hell she thought she was.
"When I'm eighteen I'm going to be worrying about college and I won't want to be meeting 'that special one'." I argued.
"Well, you'll have to wait and see then. I'm not going to change my mind about this anytime soon." She finished, now looking back at the newspaper, flipping a page.
"Then don't." I said sternly, standing up from the table.
I looked at her for a second but she didn't look up, so I left the kitchen and headed up to my bedroom. Just as I closed my bedroom door, I heard my father coming into the house downstairs. My bedroom was the only place I felt "at home". I felt like the things in my bedroom were really "mine" unlike everything else in the house which I was sometimes afraid to even touch. My room wasn't very big and consisted of only a twin size bed, a dresser with a mirror, a bean bag chair in the corner, my television on a small stand, and a bedside table with a lamp and my alarm clock. The rug was navy blue and the walls were painted white with a blue border. It was a plain room, nothing special about it, but it was mine.
I sat on my bed and looked around, but my eyes wandered back to my hand, where that phone number was still written, in Aiken's sloppy writing. I was surprised, then, that my mother hadn't commented on it. I repeated the number in my head over and over, as if trying to memorize them. That was his phone number. But I suddenly recalled the telephone conversation and stopped repeating the number. I couldn't call there again. I was lying on my bed, all spread out, just staring at the ceiling, when there was a light tapping on the door.
"Come in!" I called, knowing it was my father before the door even opened.
He came in and closed the door behind him, and took a few more steps towards me. "How's it going, honey?" he asked, smiling.
"Okay. Why?" I asked back.
"Well your mother suggested the three of us go out for dinner tonight," he began, and saw the frustrated look on my face immediately, "but I told her that you would probably like to stay home and maybe go across to hang out with Tiara."
"Thanks, Dad." I told him, forcing a smile.
"No problem, kiddo. So the two of us are going to go out and have dinner, and maybe catch a late movie, I don't know. If you go anywhere, make sure to leave a note for us and be home by.. eleven."
He knew my curfew was ten, even on the weekends, according to my mother, so I grinned and stood up, already hugging him a second later. "Thanks, Daddy." I repeated and he kissed my forehead before leaving my bedroom as quickly as he'd entered.
A few minutes later I could hear my mother questioning him down the hallway in their bedroom. "Did you tell her she has to be home by ten if she leaves the house?"
"I told her eleven." My dad answered confidently, but received an angry look, although I hadn't seen it.
"Ronnie, you can't keep changing the rules for her."
"I'm her father and I can tell her when she has to be home." He finished and I didn't hear another word about it.
They were gone when I went back downstairs shortly after, when I realized I was pretty hungry. As I was tossing myself a salad - which I'd assembled from various vegetables from the refrigerator - the telephone began to ring and I didn't get to it until the third.
"Hello?"
"Hey, you, I just saw your parents driving away. Why don't you come over?" It was, of course, Tiara.
"Yeah, they went out for dinner. I'm just going to have a salad." I told her, not answering her question.
"Are you going to come over?" she asked again, "Aike and I are here, but we were going to go out for a drive. You can come."
"Umm," I began, not sure if I even felt up to going out for a drive with my best friend and her boyfriend, "no thanks, T. I think I'll just stay home."
"What's wrong?" she asked, knowing something right away.
"Nothing," I answered, too quickly.
"Dominique, tell me." Tiara said sternly. She never used my full name with me. Never.
I thought for a moment on whether or not I wanted to tell her about the conversation on the phone. It wasn't really anything, and it would just make Ben look bad. And I didn't even know anything, yet. I didn't even know what was going on. So, even though I told Tiara everything about everything, I decide not to tell her. Not yet.
"It's nothing, Tiara. I'm just still bummed about that whole Ben and Marco thing today. I hate how I let him get to me." I told her.
"Forget about him. Did you call Ben?" The question I had hoped she would not ask.
"No," I lied, and worried that she would know I was lying.
"Okay, well, you should. You should tell him that you didn't mean anything by it, and that you don't care about Marco anymore." Tiara insisted.
"I'm going to tell him that." I agreed.
"Ok good. Are you sure you don't want to come out for a drive?" she asked again.
"Yeah, I think I'll stick around here tonight. Tomorrow we'll hang out all day." I promised.
"Ok, Dom. I'll call you later."
"Ok, T. Bye."
"Bye."
I hung up the phone and finished tossing my salad, and then pulled out one of the wooden chairs and sat down. After I added the dressing, I started to eat, slowly, but I was losing my appetite fast. Unable to stop thinking about Ben, I could only eat about half the salad and put the rest back into the refrigerator. I was almost tempted to call the number again, but I didn't. Instead, I just went into the living room, flicked on the television and sat down. I flipped past numerous sit-coms, MTV, and finally stopped on Animal Planet which was featuring something about elephants. A watched for a few minutes but got bored with it, and started thinking about Ben again. For some reason I glanced at my watch and found out that it was nearly seven o'clock. Out the large living room window, I saw headlights and concluded that it was probably Aiken's truck as the two of them went out for their drive. But as I stood up and walked towards the window, I saw that the truck was already gone and Tiara's house was in darkness. A dark colored car was parked in front of our next-door neighbor's house and the headlights shut off as I looked out at it. A tall figure got out of the car and began walking up the sidewalk, but I didn't give it a second thought and turned away from the window then. Back on the couch, I turned my attention back to the elephants.
I must have jumped a foot and I heard myself shriek when the doorbell rang a minute or two later. I was a bit scared, not knowing who would be ringing the doorbell. I wasn't expecting anyone, and my parents would have told me if they'd be expecting anyone. But I walked out of the living room quickly and into the front hall, turning on the light. With one hand on the doorknob, I looked out the window at the top of the door, trying to see who it was. But I could not see much, so I opened the door slowly and gasped. I had never been so shocked to see anyone in my life. There he was, the person I could not stop thinking about, standing on my doorstep, staring back at me. His eyes were wide as he tried to read the expression on my face.
"Hi." He said with a quiet voice. But it was his voice.
"Hi." I repeated, not able to think of anything better to say. I was too shocked.
"I came here without thinking, I didn't realize about your mom until I was half way here, so I came anyway. Is she here?" he asked. His face looked a bit worried.
"No, actually, they went out for dinner. You came at a good time." I told him as we just stood there, me in the house, him still on the top step, outside.
"Good. I feel really bad about what happened, how I hung up the phone, but - " he began, but I interrupted him, waving him inside.
I must have been out of my mind. Actually, I didn't have a mind at all at that moment. It didn't matter that my parents could have been back at any time, and that I'd be locked up for a year if they - well, my mother - knew I had a boy in the house. It didn't matter because all I wanted was for everything to be good between Ben and I. So he took a few steps and entered the house, very uneasily, and removed his shoes. I led him through the front hall and into the living room, where I sat down on the couch again and patted the seat next to me.
"Are you sure this is okay? I mean, you were saying how crazy your mom is." He asked as he sat down.
"It doesn't matter." I answered. "I'm just glad you're here."
He smiled, but it faded quickly. "Again, I'm sorry I hung up on you when you called, but I hadn't been expecting it and things were a bit hectic at the apartment." He told me.
I smiled this time. "You live in an apartment?" I asked, finally finding something out about him. Little did I know, I'd be finding out a whole lot more.
"Yeah," he nodded.
"That's cool." I said, but then decided it was my turn to apologize. "Ben, I'm sorry that I upset you earlier, at school. I know I told you I didn't have feelings for Marco, and I didn't mean to be jealous when we saw him kissing that girl, but -"
"You don't have to apologize for that." He interrupted.
"Yes, I do," I argued, "I was just really mad and it came out as being jealous. And I know that it hurt you, and I'm sorry."
"It's okay. Yeah, I was hurt, but I realized it was going to be okay when you called me. I was a jerk to you in gym class, I shouldn't have been." He replied, with a cute look on his face.
"That's okay." I told him, and then added, "What do you mean, you knew it was going to be okay when I called you?"
"Dominique, you called me to apologize, and you didn't even know my phone number. You don't know anything about me and yet you still wanted to apologize to me. That must mean something." He answered, putting his hand on my knee for a second, and then removing it.
"It means I really like you. A lot," I smiled at him, "I couldn't stop thinking about you all day." I suddenly wondered why I had told him that, and blushed.
"Awe," he mumbled, putting his hand back on my knee, this time a little higher, on my thigh.
"So," I tried to change the subject because I was a little embarrassed, "why did you come here?"
I watched as he took a breath in and then let it out. He did the same thing again and I was wondering if he was even going to answer. But finally he opened his mouth and told me, "I came to tell you about my life."
"You did?" I asked, surprised, and saw him nod.
"If we're going to be friends, and I hope we are, or, you know, more than that even, I think you deserve to know. I don't tell people, you know." He said, uneasily, and I nodded, even know I didn't know.
"Well, don't feel that you have to tell me anything. I mean, if you don't want to." I added, even though I could not wait for him to tell me about himself. Anything, everything, I just wanted to know more about him.
"I want to. I usually have a hard time feeling comfortable with girls, you know, enough to tell them all my shit. But I've only known you for three days and I already feel like you should know." He informed me and I blushed again.
"Okay, well I want to know everything about you, Ben." I told him honestly.
"Are you sure you're ready?" he asked with a smile, and I nodded. "Okay, here it goes." He finished, and within another half an hour I'd know more about Benjamin Kushner than anyone else in the whole world knew.
He took another deep breath and prepared himself by cracking his knuckles and gave me one last smile - that smile of his that I already loved - and then began.
"My mother was nineteen when she met my father, who was twenty-four. In all honesty, I don't know if they even loved each other then, but after only six months my mother was pregnant and my father did the 'right thing' by getting an apartment for the two of them to live in, and they got married a few months before I was born. They were happy, they told me they were, for a long time, even though my father worked his ass off at two or three jobs just to pay the rent and have food for us. My mother did nothing except 'take care' of me, which I don't think she did that great of a job." Ben stopped his story to take a breath, and looked me in my eyes, knowing that I was listening to his every word.
"When I was six, they sat me down and told me that they were going to have another baby, and I was ecstatic because I wanted a little brother. Lucas was born just after I turned seven. I helped out with him the best I could and my parents seemed to be really happy, but I could tell my dad was starting to get over-worked. He mostly worked while I was in school so I still saw him a lot, and I loved being with him. I loved him so much. I was happy with just my parents, Lucas and I, but my mother found herself pregnant again and my first sister, Zoë, was born when I was ten. My dad started to work more often since my mother was still not working and insisted on staying home to raise us. I wish she hadn't." He paused again then, and took another breath.
I was trying to comprehend each word he said as he said it, because I didn't want to miss anything important. Everything he said was important to me. I was beginning to notice a pattern; he didn't like his mother very much. We had one thing in common so far. I still didn't speak, though, because I didn't want to interrupt, and he continued a minute later.
"So, Allison was born two years later, making me twelve. Almost immediately after she was born, my mother freaked out. She was having postpartum depression, I found out later, and even though I didn't know it then, she began drinking heavily all the time and using drugs, popping pills, shit like that. She always screamed and yelled at my dad when he was around, which wasn't often because he now worked three jobs to support us. She accused him of cheating on her and everything else, which I know he never did. But he loved us so much that he kept working and kept taking all that shit from my mother."
I nearly had tears in my eyes at this point. There I was, a "normal" sixteen-year-old girl. I had parents who had met in their twenties, dated for two years before they got married and had me a year after that. I was an only child, I lived in a normal house and I had a dog. I was pretty normal; pretty boring. And there was Benjamin Kushner; the most opposite anyone could be from me, even more so than Tiara. And yet, I knew he wasn't finished, so I closed my eyes as he completed his story.
"Just over two years ago, man, I can't even believe it's been that long, my baby brother Zachary was born. I was sixteen, I already had three younger siblings and then there was another baby. But the baby was only three weeks old, I remember this like it was yesterday, my dad came home from work in the early evening, he couldn't wait to see Zachary and the rest of us, and my mother threw another fit on him. She accused him of sleeping with other women and told him that he wasn't a good father. So he left. I wished he would've taken us with him, but there was no way that he could have. I have only seen him once since then and only briefly. My mother started doing hard drugs and drinking every night, she was always drunk or high or stoned and I didn't trust her with the baby, so I just let her do whatever she wanted and I took care of the kids. I didn't have any other choice. I dropped out of school, I didn't start the twelfth grade at all, and I worked two part-time jobs and took care of Zach the rest of the time. The other three were in school by then so that was good. Over this past year, my mother has been in and out of rehab so much that I have been the kids' legal guardian, and this past summer my mother started trying to quit drinking and using drugs. It was actually her idea that I go back to high school, which is why I started late, in November."
And there it was; Ben's story, as if he had been reading it to me from a book. He knew it pretty well, even though he said he didn't tell it to people. But it was his life. My life story could have been told in three or four sentences, nothing even remotely close to his. His was tragic, terrifying, even, for me to think about. I could not imagine doing what he'd done at sixteen. And now, at eighteen, trying to go back and graduate high school. I could never have done it. Not in a million years. But this wasn't me, it was Ben.
"Oh, God, Ben," I couldn't get the words out that I wanted to say to him, and my eyes filled with tears as soon as I saw that he was nearly crying.
"I wanted to tell you." He mumbled, and I wrapped my arms around him without even thinking, holding him close to me.
"Ben, I'm so sorry." I told him, apologizing for nothing except for his pain.
"You don't have to be sorry. I just wanted you to know." He finished and I kept my arms around him, holding him, never wanting to let him go.
He just wanted me to know, and now I knew. We sat there together, my arms around him, on my mother's leather sofa, both of our eyes filled with tears, and we both knew that something was happening between us. And it was happening fast.