Benny simmered all night. He was mostly angry at himself for not having the courage to face the person he thought took part in his beating some nineteen years earlier.
It was Saturday morning. Certainly a tire shop would be busier on the weekends. He could put on a pair of sunglasses, wear a baseball cap and blend in with the rest of the customers. If he could get close enough he knew he would be able to recognize Tommy. No pictures were necessary, although he did glance at his 9th grade yearbook and took it with him just to make sure. He only had two patients that Saturday morning and rescheduled them for Monday. He told Marsha he wanted to go out and look for a new car.
The tire shop opened at 9 a.m. Benny arrived at the Gas ‘N Go at 8:30, waiting for the employees to arrive. He slowly sipped his gas station coffee and nibbled on a stale pecan roll as he watched someone walk up to the door. He quickly glanced at the yearbook then up again at the person opening the shop.
“That’s him! That’s him!” Benny whispered to himself. “That’s the motherfucker who beat the living shit out of me. That’s him! That’s him!”
Benny started to shake. He nursed his coffee and roll until 9 then started his car and drove to the large office complex across the street, and left it there while he strolled to the tire center--sunglasses and all. He had it all planned that he wouldn’t talk much, fearing Tommy might recognize his voice and the familiar stutter. He waited a few minutes until other customers pulled up and went into the store. He casually walked in, inconspicuously inspecting a tire display and caressed one of the Goodyear Radials.
“May I help you?” rang the voice behind him.
Startled, Benny looked over his shoulder and saw Tommy. It was him. And there they were, standing toe to toe together after all of those years--with vivid flashbacks: The graduation party. The beating. First to twelfth grade encounters.
Benny cleared his throat, and with a soft, indistinguishable voice said, “No. Just looking.”
But he couldn’t get those haunting words out of his head, “May I help you?” Benny thought, where was he when I needed help that night in ’73? Or in the lunch room at Nobel Elementary School some twenty-eight years ago? Oh, now he wants to help me! Gosh, I see that he turned his life around. That’s good. That’s real good. I’m glad for him. Real glad. I hope he has a happy family life. Real happy. I hope he has kids. Nice kids. Real nice kids. I hope he has a pretty wife. Real pretty. I hope he has the world to live for.
Frozen for a moment, Benny regained his thoughts, smiled at Tommy, then walked out. For an instant it looked as though Tommy sensed something. He was sure Tommy knew his face even under those dark glasses.
Benny walked back to his car, contemplating his next move. Now what? he thought. So now I know it’s him. But that’s not enough. Where are the other three? Where’s Frank and Gerald and Murphy? How can I find them? I wonder if they ever keep in touch with each other. I wonder how I can find out without anyone knowing I’m looking for them.