Beautiful Sorrows (17 page)

Angelica snuggled into his arms and nuzzled her nose into his neck.

“Happy birthday, baby,” she said.

“Thanks, Ang.”

She had bought him a gold watch. Impractical; he couldn’t wear it at work because it would be covered with grease, but it was still beautiful. She had even had it inscribed.
For my lovely Big Ben. You’re everything I ever wanted.

“Ben?”

“Hm?”

“Why do you put up with me? With all of this? All of the moving and meeting on park benches?”

Because he loved her. He wanted to tell her, but it broke the rules.

She watched him expectantly.

“You know why, Angelica.”

She bit her lip, and he knew that she’d be dashing at her eyes soon, blinking hard to keep the tears from running mascara down her face.

“Ben, I can never—”

“Shh. I know.”

She could never. It was her mantra. She clung to it because somehow it made everything all right in her mind. She could never love him. She could never kiss him. She could never be his. This wasn’t betrayal, because it was nothing.

Every night he fell asleep wondering what her lips would feel like. Would he recognize their taste? Would they somehow be familiar, like something he had long forgotten? Sometimes he was angry at the way his life was turning out. It was like being married to a ghost. Other times he was grateful he had managed to wrap his arms around something so ephemeral.

He rubbed his cheek against her hair. “You can never,” he said. “But I can always.”

“I’m going to have a baby, Ben. I’m going to be a mother.”

He forgot how to breathe. He exhaled and then kept right on going. His body deflated and faded like a week-old birthday balloon.

“Ben? Are you all right?”

He wasn’t all right. He wasn’t all right. He was insanely jealous. He wanted to put his hand on her stomach and will the baby away. His Angelica, trapped by another man’s child. Now she could never leave. She was not art anymore, but had become something functional. He hated it. He despised this baby.

“I’m so happy, Ben! Can you believe it?” She hugged him. “Finally I won’t be so alone.” She ignored the rigidness in his body, and ran her nose along his ear. “I waited until today to tell you. Happy birthday.”

—

The baby never stopped fussing. Angelica seldom showed up at the park anymore, and when she did, she looked wild.

“Take him, will you?” she said, shoving Baby Ethan into his arms. “I can’t have him pawing at me anymore today.” She leaned back on the bench and shook her dark hair out of her eyes. “All I want to do is sleep. Who knew this would be so awful?”

The baby looked at Ben and sobbed. Ben turned him away so that he could see the people strolling in the park, and rocked him gently. He’d learned how to do this in the last few months.

“He’s just a little kid, Ang. You need to be patient.”

Angelica sat up and glared at him. “How dare you tell me how I need to be? You have no right! You’re just a boy yourself!”

Ben looked at her calmly. “No, I am not a boy. I haven’t been a boy for quite a while, but I don’t think that you’ve noticed.” He took in her tangled hair and the dark circles around her eyes. She had tiny lines appearing around her mouth. “And you’re not a girl anymore, Angelica. This baby is your responsibility, not mine. You need to own up to him.” Ben set Baby Ethan gently on her lap, but she refused to put her arms around him.

“I don’t want him anymore. I don’t want anything to do with him.”

Ben stood up, taking the boy with him. His mouth felt ugly.

“Angelica,” he said, and the baby howled. He softened his tone, but it wasn’t for the woman’s benefit. “I’m tired of it. I’m tired of the way that you treat everybody. You don’t just get tired of somebody and give them back!”

He was yelling now, and the baby was screaming again. Heads turned toward him, and he tried to hand Baby Ethan to her again. Again, she refused, her eyes narrow and dangerous. Ben knew the look, knew what she wanted him to do.
I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean it, baby. I can’t live without you, baby.
He’d done it before.

“One day,” he said, and his voice shook. He was sixteen again, a too-tall boy with too-long hair and humiliating holes in his sneakers. “One day you’re going to tire of me the way that you tired of your husband. And what am I going to do then?”

Her eyes broke. He kissed Baby Ethan on the top of his head, and this time when he handed the baby back, she took him.

—

Baby Ethan had become Little Boy Ethan. He learned to walk by the ocean. He learned to talk in the desert.

“It is the way of it,” she told him. “It’s just how it is.”

Ben held Little Boy Ethan on his lap. Ethan squirmed for a few minutes, but soon settled. He seemed to like Uncle Ben.

“How do you like the new place?” Angelica asked him. She had cut her dark hair into a short, serviceable cut. Still beautiful, yes, but different. Ben ran his fingers through it, and the sharp ends of her hair bit into his fingers.

“It’s all right,” he said. He shrugged. “I don’t really get attached anymore, you know. One place is as good as another.”
A car is a car,
he thought.
A mechanic is a mechanic.

“Ben, are you happy?” she asked. She turned to look at him fully, her warm eyes threatening tears. How charming that used to be, back when he was young, before he was tired. Sometimes it charmed him still.

“I’m happy,” he said, and smiled at her. When she smiled back, he realized that he spoke the truth. “Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be, Ang. I don’t mind moving. It’s worth it.”

Little Boy Ethan reached up and patted Ben’s stubbled chin.

“How about you?” Ben asked the boy. “Are you happy?”

“Happy,” he agreed, and Ben smiled.

“See?” he said, and grinned at Angelica. “You make the world ha—what’s wrong?”

Her eyes were spilling tears, but Ben knew right away that these were tears that he had never seen before, and he thought that he had seen them all. He clutched Little Boy Ethan closer to him. These were hard tears, heavy tears. They were luminous with seriousness and a hint of impending tragedy. He feared these tears.

“Angelica, tell me what’s wrong.”

She didn’t say, but her eyes darted to her son. Ben held him closer.

“What is it? Is there something wrong with Ethan? Tell me!”

She didn’t think he could handle it. She didn’t think his shoulders were broad enough to bear whatever it is that they had to bear. After all of these years, didn’t she know? He could do anything for her. He would do
everything
for her.

Ethan squirmed from Ben’s grasp and fell onto the grass. Ben pulled Angelica into his lap with a desperate force that surprised both of them. He put his hands on either side of her face and made her look at him.

“This is different,” he said.

Her eyes skittered away but the tone of his voice pulled them back to him.

“Ang. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Ethan was laughing and rolling on the ground. Angelica started sobbing, a deep sound that made Ben want to cover his ears. His mother made that sound when she found out that his father was never coming home. Ben felt like vomiting.

He threw his arms around her and pulled her face to his shoulder. She didn’t say anything more that evening, but she cried until her voice was hoarse and her body trembled. Ben held a woman that seemed like a stranger, and watched her child play at his feet.

Angelica wiped her eyes on her sleeve and left with Ethan, Ben stayed for a long time, looking at the stars.

—

They started radiation quickly; there was no choice. They actually had another move coming up, but postponed it until Angelica was feeling better. Ben waited at the park bench night after night. He held a tiny stuffed angora bunny in his hands. It had charming button eyes that would make Ang smile. If she ever showed up.

Fall hit early and it hit hard. Ben wrapped himself in thicker sweaters and scarves in order to keep watch on the bench. He was sure it was too cold for her to come, too brutal on her frail body. Ethan would catch a cold. He knew this. They should be inside their warm house where that man, her husband, could dote on them. At least, he’d better be doting on them.

Ben realized that he was squeezing the rabbit too hard. He had bent the ears, and it gave the rabbit a sad, listless appearance. Ben spent the next two hours in the cold, straightening and restraightening them. He didn’t care if anybody saw him crying.

—

Halloween. Thanksgiving. Christmas. The rabbit now sat at home on his dresser, but Ben still came faithfully. He thought about Ethan playing under the Christmas tree. Would his mother be there? Or had she...

He didn’t want to think about it. His manager’s wife baked him cookies for the holidays, and he threw them out. He didn’t want to look at her sultry eyes or the way that she always crossed her legs whenever he walked by. At the garage’s New Year’s party, she pinned him against the back room wall and whispered some rather creative suggestions. He thought of Angelica’s brown eyes, and shuddered. He quit. He was young; he could get another job. He could move wherever he wanted to. Somewhere new. Somewhere without memories. On Valentine’s Day he found himself at the airport, on a plane. He bought a ticket for the first flight out, and that evening he was living in Portland, Oregon. The gritty rain settled him.

He started calling his mom weekly. He entertained the idea of driving down to see her and help out around the apartment. He took a break from working on cars and worked in a music store instead. He had forgotten how much he liked to listen to the guitar, how he learned the lyrics after only hearing them once. His heart broke for Angelica, but without so much as a last name, he could never track her down. He could never find out what had happened, or where she was buried, or where Ethan would be. Ethan was too young to remember him, anyway. And what would he matter to that little boy? He was only a strange man, an elusive entity who haunted park benches.

It was tough, but he was tough. He had learned how to take care of himself. He had learned how to be kind. There was a pretty redhead who worked at the Greek shop across the way. Her shirts were always too big and her hair was wild. He had blinked at her a few times before ducking out quickly. On Wednesday, when she handed him his gyro, she smiled at him.

In the last seven years, Ben had never smiled at another woman besides Angelica. But on this day Ben smiled back.

That night an envelope arrived. It had been sent to his old address before being forwarded to Portland. Inside was a pink piece of paper with familiar handwriting.

“Baby. Come to Tucson.”

—

Her brown eyes dominated her face. Her thin, worn, beautiful, beautiful face. Ben stood in front of her uncertainly. She perched on the park bench like it hurt her.

“Hiya, baby,” she said. “Welcome to Arizona.”

His eyes scraped over her. The color of her skin and the delicate way that she held her body. She turned her face toward the sun and closed her eyes.

“Doesn’t it feel wonderful to be warm?” she asked.