Their Freefall At Last by Julie Olivia

24

Bennett

This isn’t how I imagined today going.

I fell asleep with my arms around my best friend, hearing her small puppy-like snores, and now, I’m sitting outside my deadbeat dad’s house with that same woman of my dreams halfway in my lap, but pulling away with every passing second.

I turn off the engine. “All right. Let’s do this.”

I get out of the truck and walk-jog around to open Ruby’s door for her. She takes my hand and hops down to the crunching gravel. But when I place a hand on the small of her back, she jumps.

Ruby’s acting weird now, and it’s my fault. All because I mentioned marriage.

But I had no idea that wasn’t on her life map. I know her feelings toward matrimony are uneasy at best, given her parents, sure, but I figured, based on our promise at twelve years old, it’d be different with us.

It’s always different with us.

Maybe I’m just being romantic—the voice of a boy who watched his mom long for something concrete. At the end of the day, my promise with Ruby was between naive teenagers, wasn’t it? What did I expect? A legal contract?

When I look at Ruby, she seems fine. She’s just taking everything in, blinking at the sunny morning sky and feeling the breeze coming in from the far-off ocean. She looks so out of place here with her pristine floral T-shirt and ginger hair, tied back in a demure braid. My quiet, shy girl.

“So, we’re here,” she says as way of conversation, looking around.

There’s a small stump, tabling an ashtray and old cigarette butts. A weathered foldout chair is by the stairs. A rusted picnic table is between his house and the neighbor’s. Wind chimes tinkle in the breeze.

We walk across the gravel and up the stairs, each wooden board creaking beneath my boots and slapped with Ruby’s sandals.

I ring the doorbell.

Meeting my dad should have been the hardest part of this weekend, and now, I don’t even care. I just want Ruby to look at me with her little smile and dotted freckles and everything in between. I want our friendship.

Not this—this awkwardness.

I need my best friend. Not a distant one-night stand.

Nobody answers the door. I can feel the frustration bubbling up. I jab my finger on the doorbell again.

“Bennett,” Ruby chastises.

“Well, if he’s not gonna answer, what’s even the point?”

What was the point of coming down here—of partying and ruining the best thing in my life—if the guy we’re here to see isn’t even going to answer his damn door? I’ve waited more than twenty years to meet the man who carelessly brought me into this world and he’s not even ready for us?

Finally, the door swings open, my heart rises in my chest, and I take a step back. Because staring back at me is … me. Sort of.

Ben Shaw has my chin, my brown eyes, and he’s the same height as me. But while I inherited my mom’s black hair, Ben’s is an ashy blond with little streaks of gray, cut short on the sides and rough up top. He’s wearing a gray shirt with a few stains—maybe motor oil—but it cinches tight against his large arms that hang limply by his sides.

I’m staring at a distorted time machine.

His eyes are wide as he says, “Ben.”

“I go by Bennett actually,” I correct, holding out my palm.

“Bennett,” he echoes, shaking my hand.

There’s a twitch at the edge of his mouth. It should be nice, but I can’t help but feel put off by it. If he’s so happy to see me now, why hasn’t he seen me before?

I try to shake the thoughts off.

Christ, I’m on edge.

“Was making breakfast. You like blueberry pancakes?” He throws a thumb over his shoulder before glancing between us on his front porch.

“Sure,” Ruby answers.

I nod in agreement, but say nothing.

He steps aside, and Ruby and I walk past him in silence. Ruby’s fingers gingerly entwine in mine and give a small squeeze. My heart settles into the familiar comfort, of my best friend doing what she does best—being my anchor.

Ben Shaw’s house is, dare I say, a little cozy. A well-worn couch sits in the corner. A stack of old magazines lies beside it. A coffee cup sizzles on the low table, resting on top of a coaster that resembles a tiny vinyl record. The walls are covered in frames, housing memorabilia, ranging from vintage concert posters, photos of him in a leather jacket beside the motorcycle outside, and group pictures with similar bikers in varying degrees of leather garb.

“Smells good,” Ruby says, nodding to the small kitchenette, where bacon sizzles on the stove.

Ben shuts the door. He’s watching me closely, maybe trying to find pieces of himself in me, like I did to him.

He wipes his hand on his dark denim with rips and holes that don’t look manufactured. “Didn’t even introduce myself. I’m Ben. What’s your name, little lady?”

I don’t like how he approaches Ruby. I hate even more how casual it seems, like I’m back in high school, introducing a girlfriend to my parents—something he and I should have done in a perfect life, but we never did it in mine.

“I’m Ruby.” She takes his hand with a smile that lights me up from the inside out. Those freckles could power the world. “I’m Bennett’s friend.” And they could destroy it too.

Friend.

Ben’s eyes dart between us, skepticism in his look. I know because it’s the same expression I have.

“So, y’all went to the pirate festival?” Ben starts, and I’m happy he drifts past the awkwardness.

“Yes, sir,” Ruby says.

“I used to steer that ship, y’know. The one in the harbor?”

Her face brightens. “No way.”

Ben grabs a spatula, flipping it around in his palm. “Yeah. Me and a few buddies with our big hats and earrings.”

Ruby’s shoulders rise to her ears in excitement, like she’s sitting in a library story time. I chuckle because it’s adorable.

I could marry her.

But, no, that’s a dangerous thought, isn’t it?

“Why don’t you do it anymore?” I ask him.

“Requires a lot of partying. Day drinking ourselves to death.” He winks at her. “I’m old now.”

The wink has my smile dropping. “You’re only in your mid-forties. You’re not that old.”

He looks to me and clears his throat. “Yeah, well, you party too much when you’re younger—”

“And you knock up your girlfriend?”

“Bennett,” Ruby hisses.

My dad’s jaw clenches, but he stands still. “Yeah. Something like that.”

I’m being rude, and I know it. I need to calm down.

I turn and stare at the frames. “You in a motorcycle club or something?”

Ben’s face breaks into a nostalgic type of smile, one you only get when the memories are especially good. “Just a crew I like to ride with.”

“Bennett has a bike too,” Ruby chimes in.

“Yeah?”

Ruby nudges me. “Oh, yeah.” She leans onto her elbows, ghosting a finger over my figure. “Fits his bad-boy look, huh?”

This is the Ruby I know. Supportive. Comforting. The Ruby that only comes out when it’s just us. And right now, even though we’re in the presence of my personal demons, she’s the one wearing chain mail and wielding the sword for me when I can’t.

“I had hair like that, too, when I was your age,” Ben says. “Drove the women crazy. Though it was the bike mostly.”

My jaw grinds. I don’t like the insinuation of women who aren’t my mom. I also don’t like that there’s more we might have in common. The motorcycle was enough.

“Neat,” I answer because I can’t think of anything else that wouldn’t be some semblance of rude.

Silence again.

Ben flips the pancakes in the skillet. They look like they don’t need to be touched at all.

“So …” He clears his throat, and it comes out almost like a cough. “You ride. That’s cool. Where do you work then?”

“Honeywood.”

“That ol’ theme park? No kidding.”

“He’s actually head of maintenance,” Ruby says.

I glance to her, and she’s beaming like she can’t hold in the pride she feels. God, I want to bottle it up and save it for a rainy day.

“Wow,” Ben says. “Look at you. Big man on campus. Well, big man on theme park?”

Ruby giggles at his attempted joke. I blow air through my nose. A sort of laugh.

They’re both trying. Just try.

“I like it there,” I offer. “The people are good. The pay is good. I love Cedar Cliff.”

“I’ve always said you gotta love it to live there. It’s a lot warmer down here. Not like those mountains. Your mom always loved the breeze.”

“You didn’t?”

“No,” he says, kicking out his boot to hit the cabinet below. He looks like a shy kid in that moment. “Not for me.”

“Not enough to visit?”

“Eh, you wouldn’t have wanted me there, kid.”

I run a hand through my hair. “I don’t know. Would have been nice to have a dad.”

“Bennett,” Ruby whispers again. Her eyes are wide, as if saying, Cool it.

Cool it.Sure. Let’s cool it.

Ben shuffles from foot to foot, slapping the pancakes with the spatula. They must be black by now.

My irritation has been arriving in waves, but this time, the tide isn’t going down. Everything about this home screams, Home, even though there are no pictures of me, of Mom, of anything other than the life he built far away from us.

“She waited for you,” I blurt out. “I waited for you.”

Ben tilts his head to the side, smacking his lips. He doesn’t look so friendly anymore. His cheeks are so red; they’re almost blotchy. I don’t know him well enough to know if he’s pissed off, but he sure looks it.

“I did everything I was required to do,” he says sharply. “I paid my child support even though it put me in bad positions. I lived in debt for years to get by. I gave you graduation money to pay for whatever you wanted to do. I regret the decisions I made as a kid, but I did right by you.”

“You gave me money out of guilt. How’d you even get that money?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

He grunts, “No, it doesn’t, Ben.”

“Bennett,” I correct.

He lets out another irritated scoff.

What did I expect to find here? The reason why he’d never visited? To see if I’m similar to him? To figure out why I had been abandoned and why it feels like it’s only going to happen again?

Ben shifts to his other foot, crossing his arms, biting his cheek, and he looks all too like the picture Mom stowed away when I was a kid. She looked at that picture so often—too often. Waiting. Always waiting for him to be the same boy she’d met.

Ruby reaches across the table to stroke my hand. And it hits me—am I doing the same thing? My best friend doesn’t want to get married, and I’m just here. Holding her hand. And waiting. Just like my mom did for my dad.

Shit.

Ben Shaw looks me up and down before placing a hand on his hip and asking, “Why are you here, kiddo?”

Kiddo.

The nickname my mom uses for me and Ruby. It feels unfair to have that leave his mouth, like the wholesome word is tainted under his tongue. I open my mouth to talk, then close it.

Why am I here?

I swallow. “I wanted you to be different, I guess. I hoped you were a guy worth waiting for.”

He sucks on his cheek and nods to himself. It’s quiet, just the sound of the cuckoo clock ticking in the corner and the low vent over the stove. I hear a click and see him turning the dial down to Off.

“I think I’d like y’all to leave.”

It hurts, like a punch to the gut. We traveled all this way, and he still wants nothing to do with me. Can I blame him? Have I been nice at all? But is it my responsibility to be nice? Shouldn’t the parent want to be present? Why does it fall on me?

I glance at the bowl of blueberries he never mixed into the pancakes and nod. “I prefer strawberries anyway.”

I stand. Ruby is only seconds behind me. Her face is red—so red that her freckles are barely visible. I feel bad, putting her in the middle of this. I run a hand up her spine. She shivers and walks a step away.

This sucks.

“It was nice to meet you,” Ruby says to Ben because she’s nice and that’s one of her best qualities. She’s nice. Always so nice.

I allow her room to cross the threshold first, and before I can step out, Ben grabs my wrist.

“Hey.”

My jaw tics as I see his palm snag on the frayed pink string. He pulls away, sensing the wounded animal in front of him.

“Girl seems like a keeper.”

That might be the worst thing he’s said so far.

“Enjoy breakfast,” I reply, nodding toward his kitchen before shutting the door behind us.

Ruby lets out a deep exhale the moment we’re off the porch. Then, she walks toward me, pulls her arms up and around my shoulders, rising to her toes to let me bury my face in her neck.

This really, really sucks.

I refuse to be like my dad. I won’t abandon people I love, and I refuse to desert Ruby. If all she ever wants is this—just this—then that’s what I’ll be for her. Because if it’s between the two options of Ruby and me meeting up every so often with conciliatory blueberry pancakes and awkward small talk or enduring life as only friends, I’d pick the latter every time.

Maybe I am too much like my mom, waiting for the impossible. And I wonder if it would slowly drain me the same way it did her.

How do you pine after a woman who doesn’t want the same future as you?

If Ruby told me to wait, I know I would. But I’ve never considered whether I should.