Benjamin
“My mom wants to know if you’re coming over for dinner this Sunday? Since we’ve been going out a few months, she thought it was time,” I asked Andrea with my arms wrapped tight around her waist and my lips grazing the back of her neck. We were at her place, cleaning up after dessert.
“Sunday? I have my Singles Group meeting.” She dipped a plate in the water and gave it another swish with the sponge as she leaned back into my chest.
“Singles Group?”
“Yeah, you remember. The last couple have been canceled for one reason or another. Gloria and BJ come sometime, too. You’re welcome to join us.”
“Okay, maybe next time.” Next time, hell. Gloria hated me, and BJ, well, I wasn’t going out of my way to spend my time with gay-boy. Besides, I didn’t need another church group. I was doing enough to develop my spiritual side by going to Bible class and helping Andrea when she did shopping for some of the folks in the retirement home.
“Next Sunday then?” I asked moving to stand beside her while I grabbed a dishtowel.
She looked at me with frustration in her coffee colored eyes. “Benjamin, I know it’s been four months since you’ve been back, and I know she’s your mother and she is Roy’s grandmother, but I can’t forgive her lack of compassion for Carolyn. I think it will get better in time.”
“I accept you need time. But I don’t get why having dinner together isn’t a good way of working toward forgiveness, you know, that well-touted Christian doctrine?”
She dissolved into a kitchen chair, her leg folded under her. She rested an elbow on the table with one hand covering a brown cheek as she watched me dry the dishes. I felt guilty sweating her. She had, after all, forgiven me for taking Roy. I just didn’t get why she was being this way about my mom. “I’m sorry I said forgiveness was a Christian doctrine. I know you of all people know that. It’s this dinner thing. It’s a stumbling block we need to find a way around, Andrea. What will it take?”
She twisted her mouth to the side in thought. “Maybe a letter.”
“What?”
“I’ll write your mother a letter and she can respond. It’s a legitimate technique. People who have major problems like this often find writing is a good way to sort out feelings.”
* * *
I don’t know why I was surprised when my mom put the letter on my lap three days later while I was trying to catch the evening news. I’d open it later because I already knew what it contained. It was Andrea reaching out to my mother, trying to find a way to handle their differences. Tapping the envelope against my palm, I watched my mom and waited.
“I don’t know that I like her tone, Benjamin. She wants an apology. I didn’t do anything I wouldn’t do again this very minute if the same situation.”
She sat on the love seat next to her matching floral sofa, clearly peeved.
I clicked the TV off and sat forward. “It’s not easy for anybody, Mama. I’m tired of being caught in the middle, I know that much.”
“You’re in the middle? I thought I was.”
“I want a wife, a home, and all that good stuff for Roy and me.”
“A wife? When did you decide that?” My mother looked at me like her shoes were too tight.
“I’ve been thinking about it I guess. I haven’t asked her.”
“Are you going to move into her place?”
She’d prefer to know that, than ask if I were in love. Love that makes the heart do flip-flops had never existed in her world, as far as I could tell. For my mother, love equaled loyalty and living up to one’s obligations; nothing less and nothing more. Well, I’d tried that kind of love with Carolyn. This time I wanted, needed, demanded a love that thrilled and inspired. Not a love that only made me feel morally correct.
“Andrea and I haven’t discussed it. Do this for me, Mom. Can you please just write her back and open a dialogue?”
“Maybe; I don’t know. She can’t bring herself to grace my doorstep.” She drew back and raised her eyebrows in exaggerated disbelief. “What kind of Christian is she supposed to be when she can’t even come inside my home to wait for you so you can go to Bible study? No, she has to sit outside in the car and wait for you. I may not have time to write a letter. I’ll see.”
“Okay.” I knew when not to press.
“I don’t think it is a good idea, if my opinion matters.”
“What isn’t a good idea?”
“Andrea is not ready to be Roy’s mother. If she was, then she would understand what I did. I got a letter from Marissa the other day. I’ll write her back. If you’re going to consider marrying someone, let me suggest you take another look.”
“What are you talking about, Mom?”
“I know Marissa’s young, but she’ll be eighteen by the end of this month. That girl has a heart of gold. You know how good she is with Roy. She cooks, she cleans, she’s smart and she’s pretty. More important,” she pointed to the letter, “Marissa doesn’t have all this extra baggage Andrea has. How do you think you’re going to build a marriage on a rocky foundation like that?”
I didn’t know how, I just knew that we would.
* * *
Days passed, and then before I knew it, another month went by and nothing had improved because my mother and Andrea still did not talk, or write to each other. I know it’s something out of a bad made-for-TV movie, but I had to get my mom and Andrea together. I invited them both to brunch without letting the other one know.
When Andrea walked up to our table, her smile faded for a second, but she recovered well. I helped her off with her coat. She had on a short black skirt and a pink sweater. Her supple, shapely curves always got me going. She joined my mother and me as we sat around a red tablecloth and fake crystal goblets. I could tell Andrea was uncomfortable, because she kept running her hand through her hair.
My mom kept pursing her lips and clearing her throat. I was relieved when after several minutes, Mom said, “Let’s talk about the letter, shall we?”
Suppressing an urge to excuse myself, I drank from a tall glass of water. I would stay and watch and hope they wouldn’t need a referee.
“Okay.” Andrea put down her fork with the uneaten egg still on it. “I can’t erase the picture of Carolyn knocking on your door, Mrs. Elrod. She begged you to tell her where her baby was. She knocked until her knuckles were raw and her voice was gone, and you’d yell through the door you didn’t know where Roy was. All the time you knew. I’d try to stop her, but when I couldn’t you would call the police and have them drag Carolyn off your front porch.”
“Carolyn was a drug addict,” my mother began after clearing her throat for the thirty-first time in thirty minutes. “I protected my grandson and my son. I know she was your sister. I realize how she must have suffered, but yes, I chose not to lessen her suffering because I was afraid for Benjamin and Roy.” She took a sip of coffee, and then returned her cup carefully to its saucer.
“All she wanted to know was where Roy was. Couldn’t you see how she deteriorated before your very eyes?”
“If you mean did her appearance let me know she was a crack addict, yes it did.” My mother’s eyes flickered with anger now. “There was a warrant out for Ben’s arrest. Would Roy end up living with a drug-addicted mother again? Would Benjamin go to prison? This is what I had to deal with.” She let out a long breath. “Besides, it was for Benjamin to decide to contact Carolyn, not me.”
“Intellectually, I understand that. Still, the picture stays,” Andrea said. “I can’t help it. I can’t walk up your front steps, let alone knock on your door to come in. I don’t think I will ever be able to. There are too many bad memories. It’s not like you ever liked Carolyn, Mrs. Elrod.”
No one could deny that. My mother had been polite on the surface, but everyone had known how she felt about Carolyn. Carolyn had said my mother would never pick someone like her for me. After all, Millicent Elrod raised kids motivated to do well in school because we bought into America’s rally cry of no limits, just challenges. All of her kids graduated high school and circumvented the drug scene and prison systems, pitfalls for so many others living in the inner city. To have one of her children invite drugs into their lives after years of her good counsel, not to mention having our dad as the anti-role model, had been unsettling.
Mom shifted from side to side, stretching her neck high and back like a swan about to attack. “Do you realize Sunday dinner at my home is a tradition this family respects? Benjamin’s brother and sister come with their friends and family.”
Andrea took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I would never deprive Benjamin or Roy of a family tradition. I cannot come, but I have appreciated your invitations.”
“Andrea, I can’t move to a different house. I can’t say I’m sorry for what I did either. What I can say, and mean with all my heart, is that I’m sorry Carolyn died not knowing where her son was. As a mother, I know how horrible that must have been. If you can’t come for Sunday dinner, you can’t come. That’s between you and Benjamin, but know you are always welcome.”
They both looked at me at the same time. Neither of them spoke. I had to select my words carefully. “Andrea, your decision not to come to dinner creates a void for me, but I didn’t know until I read your letter that Carolyn knocked on the door like that. It’s more than just my mom not telling you where Roy and I were. I see now.” Turning to face my mom, I leaned in toward her.
“And, Mom, you’re right. It’s an important family tradition I won’t miss again as long as I am able and Roy has to be there. How about rotating the location of dinner?”
Her eyes got as round as the saucers on the table, then her mouth formed a flabbergasted o-shape. “Certainly not! I have no desire to play gypsy, roaming all over, planning around people’s schedules. Sunday dinner stays put.”
My one and only idea crashed and burned. I drank some mimosa in its honor.
My mother pushed her plate back and folded her hands on the table in front of her. “Eventually, Andrea, you might be able to perceive what is best for Roy and for Benjamin. At some point, what is best for them might become your primary consideration, maybe not. Time will tell.”
Andrea snatched her napkin from her lap and threw it on her plate. “Okay, now I’m a selfish bitch, only interested in what’s best for me? Is that what you are saying?”
“I’m asking you if you are part of something bigger, or if it is all really about you. I’m sure I’ll find out when you find out. Goodbye.”
Watching my mother leave, I almost wanted to go with her rather than face Andrea, who sat with her hands over her face.
I touched her shoulder, hoping to communicate that she and I were still on the same page no matter what my mother had said.
Andrea slowly dragged her hands away from her face, shaking her head. “She’s right.”
“She’s right?” I repeated.
Andrea looked as if she’d just missed the shot that would have won the game. “Absolutely. Is this an ‘us thing’ or a ‘me thing?’ Your mother’s right. I couldn’t see it until now.”
My soul filled with joy. I wished I’d brought the engagement ring I’d purchased in an optimistic moment. This would have been the perfect time to give it to her; the last pillar standing in our way had just fallen.
The tip of Andrea’s tongue peeked out from burgundy lips. “I’m not ready for it to be an ‘us thing,’ Benjamin. Right now it is about me and my need to heal.”
I stared at her as if staring would make her come to her senses. “What? You don’t mean that, Andrea. you’re just upset. We have something solid developing between us. I know it. You know it.”
“I wanted to know it. I thought I knew it. I don’t know it; I’m not there yet. I think we have to stop seeing each other.”
Weak, sardonic laughter let loose from someplace, and I realized it was coming from me. “What? Just like that?”
“Well …” She removed the napkin from her plate and folded it into parts. “I think maybe we can ask your brother to bring Roy by my place three, four times a month, if that’s okay.”
Now I picked up my napkin and slapped my plate with it. “That often?” My head started bobbing up and down as if it were motorized. “Yeah, yeah sure thing. Not a problem.” Call it male ego, but I was pissed. She’d dismissed me from her life as easily as you cancel a newspaper. Nonchalantly, I smoothed out my left eyebrow. “We’ll arrange for you to see Roy around your schedule, don’t worry.”
She looked at me as if I was the one being contrary. “You have to admit it’s complicated, Benjamin. Sometimes when things are complicated, we need to heed the warning signs.”
“For God’s sakes, Andrea. Life is always complicated. If you let complications stop you, you will never get anything you want out of life.”
She left without saying anything else. I sat at our table thinking about going home and listening to Sarah Vaughn sing “What a Difference a Day Makes.” Was it hot in here, or was it me? I wiped the sweat off my forehead. We’d come this far, got this close for me to find out I meant so little to her. How could I have been so wrong about us?
Hell, I never liked Andrea’s friends anyway, and this celibate lifestyle was questionable on its best day. When the waiter walked by and asked me if everything was alright, I had to say, “Hit me with another mimosa, will you?”
I sat there drinking, appeasing my hurt and anger as much as orange juice and champagne would allow. Andrea didn’t know I wanted to marry her. I had never told her I loved her. By the time I finished my drink, it was clear she should be aware of my intentions before she decided to walk out of my life forever.
I pulled out my wallet to pay the bill. When I looked up, Andrea was standing next to me with a tear-streaked face. “What did you forget?” I asked as casually as I could.
“As soon as I said we should stop seeing each other, I regretted it. As complicated as this is, I can’t imagine not being with you. I love you, Benjamin. I want you to know that. I hope we can work it out, but even if we can’t, I want you to know I love you.”
God, just to hear her say those words moved me in unexpected ways. Women have been making a big deal about them since before dirt, but now, for the first time, I finally understood what three simple words could mean. Relief flooded my soul in a way only a love song can come close to explaining, but I wasn’t ready to let her off the hook yet. “You love me. What was all of that a minute ago about ‘not being there?’”
Rubbing her temple, she sat down again and took a moment, as if she needed to phrase this just right. “I have these feelings of love and hurt all mixed in my brain and in my heart. Some days, I’m the happiest woman in the world, and some days I’m so miserable and confused I don’t know what to do. I’ve been praying, trying to get some help with this, but I’m still struggling. What am I going to do, Benjamin?”
“This is what you can do.” I stood up and pulled her up to me kissing her gently. Grinning, I kissed her again in a way that could leave no doubt in her mind about how glad I was she came back. The other restaurant patrons applauded my moves.
“I’ve got something else to give you that’ll solve most of your confusion,” I whispered.
“Oh really?” she said with cautious interest and a raised brow.
“Not that. That’s off-limits for a while, but you’ll see.”