by Lazuli
Part 17 ~ A Thing Of The Past
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Mid-morning, home again, and Diefenbaker casually greeted them as if they’d just popped out to the store rather than been away all night. Once it became plain that they hadn’t returned home via a doughnut vendor, he wandered off into the garden to recommence his sunbathing. Ben had been as good as his word before they left the IRF, asking for crutches and spending some time with his physiotherapist so he could safely practise before being allowed to expand his exercises at home. Ray watched as Ben immediately tried the crutches out, precisely following the instructions he’d been given, and successfully getting to his feet. A couple of steps and Ray could see where his left leg was being uncooperative, and after a further attempt, in an increasingly circular pattern, he asked Ray to bring the chair closer and sat back down, handing the crutches over. “Impressive,” Ray told him. “Early days,” Ben replied with a cheerful smile, so unlike the forced efforts Ray had seen time and again. “You’re good today. I thought, after yesterday…” “Not thinking about it,” Ben replied airily. “And still benefitting from the drugs?” “Almost certainly.” Ray fetched the paperwork on the treatment Doctor Lee had suggested. “I know the doctor spoke to you about it, but this is all the information on the EMDR. You need to read it.” Ben took the information sheets but looked sceptical. “Sounds too good to be true.” “Exactly what I said. But aren’t you due a little of that?” “Let me think about it.” Despite being ready to beg Ben to take a chance on something that might take months, or even years, off the therapy he’d need, Ray gave a nod and went to the kitchen to make some drinks. A tap at the door, and Ray was aware of Ben jumping hard, as if it had been pounding blows rather than a polite rat-a-tat-tat. “It’s okay,” Ray reassured, but Ben reversed the chair, backing up until he couldn’t go further. “It really is okay,” Ray tried again, before going to answer the door, highly conscious of both Ben’s shared paranoia, and the gun sitting on his hip. “Can I visit?” asked Miriam as soon as the door was half open. Ray virtually lifted her off the doorstep into a hug. “Hey, Benny, it’s your guardian angel!” As Ray brought Miriam into the house, Ben was already driving forward again, stopping a couple of feet in front of the woman who’d brought Ray to his side. “Thank you,” he said simply, opening his arms to her and embracing her as she did her best to smother him in an enthusiastic hug. She stood back once again to look at him, scrutinising and nodding. “You look so well! Your weight’s improved, your colour’s good; I love the haircut.” Diefenbaker chose that moment to trot inside and investigate. “And you found your dog! Oh my goodness, this is the best day.” As Miriam fussed Diefenbaker and Ben in equal measures, Ray went back to the kitchen, happy to listen to the conversation taking place, and delighted for Miriam that Ben was so engaged: other than being manipulated she’d been ignored by him for far too long. Ray stopped what he was doing to eavesdrop as the EMDR was mentioned, Ben asking Miriam for her opinion. “If they’ve recommended it, then they think it’s right for you.” “And?” Miriam sat on the sofa with Diefenbaker and considered her words as she stroked the wolf. “It’s not my place to say, but… I’ve seen it work miracles. You’ll know fairly quickly if it’s going to work for you, so there’s not much to lose when it comes to deferring other treatment in favour of it. Ask lots of questions, go into it cautiously, and I’d say… Try it, Ben. But it’s really not my place.” “Your position as my guardian angel suggests some influence wouldn’t be inappropriate.” Miriam waved that way, looking up with a smile as Ray brought their coffee in. “What do you think about the treatment?” she asked Ray. “Honestly? I just want something to work and Benny to get better. If it takes six months rather than six years I’m all for it. But it’s not my place either.” “I value both your opinions,” Ben told them, “and I’ll be speaking to Doctor Lee again at my next appointment. Then I’ll decide.” “Benny was up on crutches earlier,” Ray told Miriam, and a new round of excited praise and congratulations was launched. When Ray saw Miriam out he asked after her family; she was still rolling her eyes in answer to that particular enquiry. “Pop’s completely fine, nothing to worry about, and he knows it. Now it’s all about convincing him he knows it.” “I have one of those,” Ray said, glancing back at where Ben was once again backing away from the open front door and trying not to make it look obvious. “Patience,” Miriam advised, and Ray nodded along with that advice. He looked back once again and guessed that Ben had locked himself in the wet room. “Patience,” he agreed, and gave her a hug goodbye. … “Want to sit outside for a while?” Ray asked that afternoon. Ben struggled to answer, so Ray carried on as if he’d not noticed. “I was thinking I’ll put up the basketball hoop, and I need you to work out the height. Then I’m going to mow the lawn and I’ll need you to keep Dief under control or he’s going to be dyed green by the time I’m finished.” “I could stay in here with him.” “Or you could come outside with the both of us. It’s a beautiful day and you need to absorb some vitamin D. How’s that for an argument?” “Have you been reading those leaflets again?” Ray grinned at Ben and attempted to commandeer the chair, but not trying too hard so they’d have the fun of Ben being able to avoid Ray’s moves. It wasn’t difficult to manipulate the situation so Ben was allowed to scoop Ray up, and once settled on Ben’s lap, Ray was hugged – some might even say snuggled – with Ben burying his face in Ray’s neck and kissing. Every time Ben did this, Ray was thrown into confusion, skin tingling as goose bumps rose along with what felt like every hair on his body. He maybe wanted more but his mind insisted on less, still caught up in believing this wasn’t that kind of love, although as time went on, Ray wasn’t sure what that kind of love was anymore. Ben’s head rose and he gave Ray a near platonic kiss on the cheek. “I can feel your inner struggles,” Ben said as he nuzzled. “I’m sorry you’re so conflicted, it isn’t letting you be happy.” “I’m happy,” Ray insisted. “But… Do you think I’m leading you on? Kissing you when I’m not sure about the other stuff?” “No. I always knew that anything physical would be problematic for you. You’ve been quite open with me about your confusion.” “Am I confused?” Ray asked. “I didn’t think I was, but now I don’t know. I suppose that absolutely makes me confused, but not necessarily about the thing we’re talking about. Or not talking about.” “I have wondered if some of your irritation with me in the past was about the frustration of not being able to possess something you had a unconscious longing for.” “Or, alternatively,” Ray suggested, “we should accept the fact that you’ve always had the power to drive me absolutely nuts with your behaviour.” “Yes, there’s that,” Ben conceded, fighting a grin that didn’t want to go away. “Sorry.” “I always knew you loved every minute of me getting mad.” “No, not every minute. But your passionate nature has always appealed to me, regardless of what or whom it’s directed at.” “But it’s not the kind of passion we’re talking about right now.” “Ray, I told you I expect nothing.” “Okay, I know you don’t jump on every passerby who catches your eye, but are you really prepared to give up sex to be with me? If I’m always, to use your word, conflicted?” “I could put that question straight back to you. To put it delicately, you always liked the ladies.” “But I was never satisfied, it was never enough. Maybe with you it would be, and maybe I’m just scared to go through with it because… Is it just me? I always want something I can’t have, and how the hell have I been lucky enough to have this much with you already?” Ray gave in to the need to kiss Ben, and groaned in frustration when he had to drag himself away in order to think clearly. “Being with you, Benny, just this much… I can’t tell you the peace it’s brought me.” “Because you’re in love with me.” “I truly, truly am. You know, I still have love for my ex wife, and I love Stella, but I wasn’t in love, and I know that now. So if that’s the case, I should be jumping you at every opportunity.” “You’re just not ready yet.” Amusement twinkled in Ben’s eyes as he thought. “Sometimes you kiss me and you still look shocked at what you’re doing.” “The church has ruined me for life,” Ray grouched, but couldn’t stay grumpy for any reason: all he had to do was look at Ben and his whole world improved. “You’re so damn calm about it all.” “I’ll be frank with you. I only feel real desire with someone I have a deep connection with.” “And that doesn’t seem to happen often.” “I don’t let it happen. You’ve seen how…” Ben groped for the right word. “Deranged?” Ray was happy to supply. Ben gave a chuckle. “I risk becoming tunnel visioned when I’m experiencing that deep connection, and there’s always a danger of common sense flying out of the window.” “Do I have that to look forward to?” Ben shook his head. “Being with you is perfectly right for me because, although the intensity is there, I feel safe in the knowledge you’ll keep me grounded. I know you think I keep too much to myself regarding our relationship, but I honestly struggle to put into words what you mean to me.” “I very selfishly love to hear it.” “You deserve to. I’ll try harder.” “Just don’t change your mind when you get a better offer one day.” “I know you’re joking when you say that, because you’re too astute not to be. No-one could take your place.” “You’ve had plenty of offers.” “That I’m not tempted by. I admit there have been mild flirtations along the way, but too often it’s about making other people happy rather than myself.” “Fulfilling someone else’s expectations is hard work,” Ray observed. “Very true.” “But you genuinely want me?” Ben rolled his eyes in a highly Ray-esque manner. “Well, I love you, Ray, I’m in love with you. The connection doesn’t get any deeper than that. It makes perfect sense.” “And you don’t have the voice at the back of your mind saying you’re going to hell?” “Luckily I grew up around very open-minded and non-judgemental people.” “So the Inuit don’t have issues with guys like us?” “I was talking about my grandparents.” “Good for them. I would like them to adopt me.” Taking Ray’s face very deliberately in his hands, Ben turned his head and kissed him, allowing himself to deepen the kiss on this occasion, verging on passionate before Ray broke away and off Ben’s lap. “Didn’t you like that?” “Don’t be ridiculous, I loved that. And now I realise I have another issue. You’re in a chair, temporarily disabled, and I’m taking advantage of you.” “I think I could escape if I needed to. Not that I’d want to.” “Would you have preferred how I was before all the shit hit the fan? Once upon a time, if I’d been honest with myself about what I wanted, I wouldn’t have hesitated to mindlessly – thoughtlessly – pursue it.” Ben thought about it before delivering a lethal blow. “Is that the person you’d have wanted for me?” “No, no, no,” Ray insisted, rushing back to Ben, onto his lap and holding him tightly. “I’m only ever going to be an ass for you, not to you.” “So, in conclusion,” Ben mused, “I will wait until you’re ready, and you’ll stop blaming yourself for your caution.” “And to conclude the conclusion, we will be mowing the lawn and putting up a basketball hoop.” “I’m not sure I can sit out there.” “Which brings us to something else I wanted to talk to you about. We need to get out every day for a while to give Dief some exercise. If he doesn’t run off some calories he’s going to turn into a space hopper.” “I was going to ask if you’d mind doing that.” “I wouldn’t mind going without you if Trantor was still out there, but he’s not, so we have to try to live a normal life. And that means us walking the wolf, and me getting some exercise too, and you humouring me. I thought we could pick different areas, look around and see if we like the houses, see if there’s plenty of outdoor space for Dief. It could be fun, and I’ll always be there with you if you have any…y’know…moments.” “It is appealing, the idea of knowing what happens after we leave here, but I have to be honest. I don’t have a clue what my financial situation is going to be if I can’t go back to work. The Consulate has been incredibly generous covering my stay at the IRF, and now at the bungalow, but that won’t last much longer, and I wouldn’t particularly want them to finance me if I can’t carry out my duties.” “Finished?” “Yes.” “The money doesn’t matter.” “Of course it does.” “I have three words for you: bowling alley proceeds.” “But that’s your…” Ray sprang off of Ben’s lap like he’d been burnt. “Ours,” he forcefully insisted. “If we’re together it’s ours. Just accept it because this is something I will get mad over if you argue. Benny, I will fight you on this. We will find a house, and we will buy a house, and both our names will be on the deeds. If I drop down dead one day I want to go knowing you’re not losing the roof over your head.” “Ray…” “And who knows? Maybe you will go back to work, or be medically discharged with a pension, and then you contribute, but until then, forget about the money. If the blood, sweat and tears of that bowling alley were good for anything it’s this. Stella bought that swanky New York apartment out of her cut, and I don’t hear Ray protesting about it.” Clearly shocked by Ray’s vehemence, Ben sat quietly, staring at his hands in his lap. Ray hated the lack of response with a passion, it reminded him too much of where they’d been as people when he’d come back from Florida. “Benny? If you love me, then do this for me. Because I need to do this for you.” Ben took a deep breath and finally met Ray’s eyes. He gave a shallow nod. “Can we please make it fun?” Ray asked. “Please?” Ray saw the decision being made, quite vividly on Ben’s face. “Have you thought of where you’d like to start?” It was obvious that Ben was simply being obliging, but Ray took that and ran with it, and it wasn’t long before Ben was caught up in Ray’s excitement. Plans were made, areas discussed, styles debated, and real estate agents denigrated. And all Ray had to do now, was get Ben out of the bungalow. … Ray was determined not to regret the decision to take daily walks around various neighbourhoods, staying resolutely positive and chivvying Ben along, but it grew intensely painful. It wasn’t long before he realised how badly he’d overestimated Ben’s recovery rate, not physically but mentally. Trantor was securely locked up but wasn’t alone: Ben was imprisoned in his own mind, trapped with the fear that he was being watched, that Ray was in danger, that Diefenbaker was being butchered the moment he was out of sight. Ben was seeing Trantor everywhere, and there was nothing Ray could do to comfort or reassure him. Eventually they hit the point where the distraction techniques that Ray relied on to stop the panic attacks failed completely, and although Ben didn’t freeze, it was impossible to communicate with him until he was back in the safety of their home. Each time this happened it was days before Ben was able to attempt walking with his crutches again, so that left him further disheartened. Ray lost count of the aborted house hunts, so was surprised when Ben urgently woke him one morning with a much greater venture on his mind. “Ray, I need to go back to Canada.” Ray yawned himself awake and thought that over for less than a second. “No.” “Yes.” “Despite what happened?” “Because of what happened. I have to break the association. Canada can’t be about body parts in the snow.” “You want to go now?” “Soon.” “I’ll do you a deal. You talk it over with Doctor Lee, and if she thinks it’s a healthy thing to do we’ll look at the practicalities.” “I can make my own decisions.” “Fine. Go by yourself then.” A difficult silence stretched out between them. “That’s unnecessarily cruel,” Ben said at last. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to hurt you, but you can’t get to the other side of town. How the hell do you think you’ll cope with a journey to Canada?” Ben had no answer. He just reached out for Ray and heavy-handedly yanked him close enough to hold onto. “What if I can never go home?” “I’ll do what you did to Ray. We’ll fly over and I’ll throw you out of the plane.” “It may take that.” “No, it won’t. When the time is right it’ll be easy. “Nothing’s easy,” Ben grumbled, but the edge had gone from his voice. “You apparently are where I’m concerned, it’s me who’s playing hard to get.” Ray felt a minor tremor and wondered what damage he’d done this time, but it became a stifled laugh as Ben accepted the comment without question. He kissed Ray’s forehead. “You’re right of course. About Canada, not— I hate that you’re right.” “I hate that I’m right too.” “Sometimes I loathe your common sense.” “I know.” “Can we go when I’m better? If I’m ever better.” “We will, as soon as it’s practical. Meantime, every day, you tell me something you love about where you come from. Focus on the good things.” “You’ll soon get tired of that.” “So what? It’s never stopped you before.” Thankfully, Ben was able to laugh at that. “It’s a promise,” Ray vowed. “Canada is a promise. And I’ll even make a bet that you do it on feet not wheels.” For once, Ben chose not to argue. … Ben finally made the
decision about his treatment, wary about the EMDR but so exhausted by his
condition that he’d reached Ray’s level of desperation for any sort of help. Ray
sat in and listened as Ben explained his reticence, how his mind just wanted to
hide away from reality, and cling to the small fractions of normality it
recognised as places of safety and contentment. Ben seemed happier for sharing
that information with Doctor Lee, and by extension, Ray. The doctor explained
more about the procedure they’d be utilising, and a date was set for the first
session. Ray recalled Miriam
saying it worked miracles; Benny deserved his own miracle so much. Any
reduction in the fear, the looking over his shoulder, being scared of his own
shadow, the panic attacks, the paranoia over innocent noises, the nightmares… The
heartbreaking requests that Ray check Trantor was still locked up, and the many,
many apologies that Ben offered as he asked for reassurance. Ray considered his
options, forever wondering what he could practically do to help Ben’s next
steps to recovery. Delving deep into his own psyche, one solution nagged and
nagged at him, and finally he was ready to see it through. … The day for the
first session came. They were introduced to the specialist Doctor Lee had
called in and, despite Doctor Maitland fitting the physical profile of Trantor,
Ben didn’t flinch, much to everyone’s, albeit unspoken, relief. Ben seemed
good, confident and ready to break the cycle of mental abuse his brain was
putting him through. In Ben’s presence, Doctor Lee asked Ray to leave the
building, to go and wait at home rather than haunting their corridors. Ben
nodded his agreement, and the trepidation Ray expected to see behind his eyes
simply wasn’t there. Already they’d made progress. Ray gave Ben a hug and told
him he’d be back later. Ray checked his
watch. The session with Doctors Lee and Maitland had been booked at three
hours, followed by an hour in physiotherapy. All that time and
space to himself; Ray took it as a sign. Taking a train for a
few stops and alighting at a random station, Ray wandered the streets until his
detective’s sixth sense led him to exactly what he needed: a suitably shady
individual selling all manner of stolen gear, including equally shady prepaid
SIM cards. There was a pleasant
green space a couple of blocks from where he’d found himself, and he headed to
it, finding himself a bench to sit on and digging in his pocket for a phone
that had been switched off for a long time, a basic brick of a Nokia that had
no bells and whistles, but a contact list carefully curated by Armando
Langoustini. The list was all three digit numbers, representing lots of options
for safely anonymous interventions. Ray placed the SIM inside and booted the
phone up. He smiled: all that time and it still had plenty of battery life. No
wonder the mob loved a Nokia. What Ray had
judiciously omitted when telling Ben about his time as Armando were the times
when the scumbags in Ray’s orbit would be too much for him to bear. Murderers,
rapists, torturers, all acting in the name of the mob. Armando had guys he
trusted, and all it ever took was three simple words to dispose of these pieces
of human detritus and make sure they never did any damage to anyone ever again.
‘Deal with it.’ Simple as that. He never even had to give a reason. A name and,
‘Deal with it’. On those occasions the blood on his hands washed away without
any trouble at all. Sometimes it wasn’t
quite so close to home, and then all he’d needed was this phone, its contacts
list, and codes that were still burned into his brain. Apparently you could
take Ray out of Armando, but you couldn’t take Armando out of Ray. Power corrupts? Maybe.
But sometimes power liberates, allowing the right man to take the right action
however questionably ethical. You just had to have the evidence of your own
eyes that not every life is sacred. So now he didn’t
even hesitate for a second before texting a contact with an identity no more
specific than 472. An extremely reliable specialist who had his own carefully
curated list of contacts and, seeing as the whole system was anonymous, someone
who wouldn’t know who exactly within the mob was requesting assistance, or even
if it was a cop who had been undercover but had now walked away. Ray entered a few
basic details: Trantor S.E., MCC Chicago, and the code 661. Should the
recipient’s phone ever fall into the wrong hands, the sender of this text would
be untraceable, the number used and ditched within minutes. Once done, Ray
ensured that nothing new had been saved to the phone before turning it off and removing
the SIM, cracking the card into several pieces and dropping it, fragment by
fragment, into drains and trash cans on his way back to the station. The phone would
now be locked and put aside for another day, because… Well, what Armando had
taught him was that you just never knew when you’d need a helping hand. And now he would
wait. Return to Ben with a clear conscience and wait for news that would hopefully
make Ben’s life so much better. … “How did it go?” “It was—” Ben was apparently lost for words. Ray hoped that was a good thing. They drove home and Ben manoeuvred himself into the bungalow without looking over his shoulder once. A very minor miracle? At the kitchen table, Ben raked through the pile of real estate pamphlets that had come in the mail until Ray brought over sandwiches and coffee, but by then he had set aside a few properties for further consideration. “Max wants to know when we’re moving. He has plans for himself and Shirley to visit,” Ben explained with a smile. “Not enough you’ve become his favourite consultant, he now wants bed and breakfast?” “Apparently Shirley has offered to cook.” “They are very, very welcome, so much more welcome than Max was thirty seconds ago.” Ben smiled at that, but the subject soon returned to what Ray was blatantly waiting for. In the end, he had to verbally prod. “So?” Ray asked. Still Ben hesitated. “I’m not being obstructive, I don’t know where to start,” he admitted. “It wasn’t what I expected, even though it had been thoroughly explained to me. It’s…” Ben shrugged, suddenly looking quite overwhelmed. “Ray… I have hope.” Ray’s hand shot across to grab Ben’s. “Say that again.” “I have hope,” Ben repeated, voice cracking a little. Half a sandwich and a full emotional recovery later, Ben started to explain what had happened in his therapy session, and how the techniques he’d learnt could be utilised every day. Finally, one step forward without two steps back. Speaking of which… “And I don’t know if it was because I felt so lifted from the therapy, but when I was walking using the bars in my physiotherapy session, I actually made progress with my left leg. Several steps.” “That was totally on the cards, I’m sure I’m winning a bet here somewhere.” “No rush. That’s what Ella kept saying. No rush.” “And taking that advice, I’m guessing you’re spending most of the afternoon on your crutches.” “Absolutely.” “I’ll be there for you, just in case. Doesn’t sound like you’ll need me so much…” “I will always need you,” Ben said sincerely. He took a moment before tapping on the real estate pamphlets. “And I’m sorry I was so ungrateful when you told me your plans for the house. A pointless degree of pride, I’m afraid.” “Not a problem,” Ray smiled, because it wasn’t, just so long as Benny didn’t put up a fight. “Besides, you have much better things to be proud of.” Ben evidently chose not to ask what, but instead went through the papers he’d set aside and put one in particular on top of the pile. Ray noticed it was the property he’d found that already had certain features that suited disabled living. Despite hoping those features would lessen in importance in the near future, the kerb appeal and area were already winners in his mind. “Yep,” was all he had to say, and Ben gave him a smile before driving away in search of his crutches. Ray cleared up and, while he thought of it, opened the kitchen drawer that was gradually filling with all the odds and ends that didn’t have a designated home. Ray casually threw the Nokia in, because it was just the sort of model too many people had lurking at the back of a drawer. Nothing suspicious at all. What did stop him in his tracks was the Ziploc bag containing a bullet. The bullet. Ray wondered when Ben had put it in there, and if maybe it had the same significance as the phone: desperately important and life changing, but a thing of the past. He took the bullet from its bag and rolled it between his fingers. What had Benny called it? The bullet that saved his life? Miriam saying those words felt like a long time ago. He remembered arriving back in Chicago, and the state Ben was in, lying in bed like a statue, concentrating so hard on listening for that feared voice he was shut off from the world. Bullet back in the bag, bag back in the drawer, Ray hurried after Ben, who was cheerfully telling Diefenbaker about the garden at the house he’d drawn Ray’s attention to. It was strange to walk into a room and see Ben on his feet. Ray rushed over and threw his arms around him, experiencing the oddity that was hugging an upright Ben without holding him upright. “Ray?” “I just need to,” Ray explained without explaining. Ben accepted that and leant his cheek against Ray’s, the only contact he could manage while holding on to the crutches. He started to tunelessly hum and, despite the lack of a tune, they swayed to it. “That’s interesting,” Ray murmured. “Humming is part of the therapy, it acts as a grounding tool. I suspect you’ll hear a lot of it.” “Good. Do it some more.” Ben hummed and they swayed until Ray was back to holding him up. That was good too: being needed. And all thanks to that horrible little bullet.
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