The End of All Things Beautiful (11 page)

“Campbell!” Benji screams, and it reverberates in every
direction, nothing to stop the sound from carrying. There’s nothing but
emptiness.

I can hear his feet crunching on the gravel of the road as he
tries to catch up to me. My mind is begging me to get away from him and all the
feelings that seeing him brought out in me. I can’t deal with any of this.

He screams my name once again, his voice unnaturally loud and
for a second I’m actually frightened thinking about what all of this means. Am
I scared of him? Scared of what we’ve done or the fact that someone else now
knows? It’s become too much.

I suck in a deep breath, the cold air rushing into my lungs and
making them burn, but I don’t stop walking.

I know he’s getting closer, my body can sense his closeness and
I begin to cry even harder when I feel his hand grab my elbow. Spinning me
around, his fingers tighten on my arm, not allowing me to pull away.

“No! You don’t get to do this!” he yells, his fingers digging
into my skin despite the fact that I’m wearing a coat. “You don’t get to show
up here and remind me of everything all over again!” His face is red and his
breaths are coming hard and fast as I watch his chest heave with each word. “You
don’t get to run away again, Campbell!”

“Let go of me!” I shriek, pulling away from him, but he never
loosens his grip. I struggle against him and by now I’m sobbing. “You told
them!” I scream and he finally drops my arm. There’s a look of shock on his
face and I almost want to believe what comes out of his mouth next.

“I haven’t told anyone. I’ve never told anyone,” he says shaking
his head, a desperate plea to his words.

“Fuck you!” I scream and it’s loud and booming, but it doesn’t
stop him as I walk away.

“Campbell! Stop! Now!” And I can hear him jog to catch up to me.
This time both of his hands clutch my upper arms. “You’re not running away from
me. We’re going to talk about this.” By now he’s stopped yelling, but our anger
is still very much real.

“I don’t want to talk about it!” I yell in his face, and again
it does nothing to shake his composure or his hold on me.

“I don’t care if you don’t want to. We have to!” he screams back,
his breath coming out in short bursts, the air so cold each one is a puff of
white. “I’m not letting you walk away. You don’t get to disappear again,” he
says, but now his voice has turned quiet, a near whisper, almost lost in the
air and the openness. “It will kill me, Campbell. It will ruin what is left of
us.”

I swallow hard at his words, unsure of what to do or say and for
a moment I don’t have to think about it. Benji’s lips crash into mine, hard and
desperate and just their touch causes a whimper to leave my mouth.

I melt into his body, as our kiss turns soft, my hands running
up the hard muscles of his arms until I’m holding on so tightly, like I’m
scared he’ll disappear. When his lips leave mine, I almost cry out in protest.
He pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against mine, but I can’t bring
myself to open my eyes. This all feels like a dream and I nearly forget all the
awfulness that surrounds us and why I’m even here in the first place,
especially when he whispers, “I’ve missed you so fucking much, Campbell.”

“I’ve missed you too,” I stutter out, my admittance more honest
than I’ve been in years.

“This is far from over, but right now I’m starving,” Benji says
and it makes me laugh despite being furious with him only minutes ago. “It’s
freezing out, your nose is so cold,” he says shuddering dramatically, “and I’m
not wearing a coat. So let’s take this back inside.”
 

He motions with his head toward the barn as he starts walking. I
fall in line next to him, but fight the urge to link my arm with his or hold
his hand.
 
As much as I want to fall
back into our old habits, we aren’t the same people. If anything, I’m more
fucked up right now than I have ever been in my life.

I hear him take in a deep breath before he lets it out slowly. I
look over at him as he runs his hand through his hair and says, “I know you’re
finding it hard to believe me, but I never told anyone what happened.”

I nod my head unable to respond because a part of me knows what
he says is the truth. I think I used to like to believe that who he became
after the accident was who he really is. But the truth is, we all became
someone else; we all fell apart. We all became liars and secret keepers,
bitter, jaded and lost, and I’m not sure we can ever go back to the people we
were.

Although we both agreed to talk about what just happened,
neither of us broaches the subject. At first we eat in silence and then the
conversation turns casual as if we’re two people just getting to know each
other. And in a way, I guess we are.

“Where are you living now?” Benji asks.

“I’m in the city, in Lakeview,” I tell him, and he widens his
eyes.

“Swanky.”

“Oh, like you have any room to talk. Look at your house.”

“There’s a story behind that,” he says casually, like it’s insignificant.

“I’d love to hear it, Ben,” I say, and he smirks at my use of
his name but doesn’t comment.

“I’d love to hear more about you,” he says, and it makes my
heart flutter in my chest.

I begin to chew my lip, nervous about what he might ask. There really
isn’t much to tell considering I tried to be as invisible as possible after the
accident.

“You finish school?” he asks, although I can sense some
hesitation in his voice.

“I did. After…” I trail off realizing I was about to say after
the accident. My life is measured in before the accident and after the
accident, a time when things were good and a time when my whole world went
dark. “I finished up at DePaul and then went to work for Jack right away.” I
don’t want to talk about myself, because the more I tell him, the more he’s
going to figure out that I’ve spent the last nine years depressed, lonely and
guilt-ridden. “How about you?” I ask. “You finish school?”

“I did,” he says, pausing as if he’s about to reveal something
he’s not entirely sure about. “I finished abroad. Met a girl and followed her
to Sydney.”

“Australia?” I question, as I think about exactly how far that
is from Michigan—a completely different continent, a different world, a
million miles from everything.

“Yep, the land of Oz. I met her after you…” It’s him who trails
off now and I wonder if he measures his life in befores and afters. “I needed a
change, so I went with her. It didn’t last,” he adds, quickly looking away from
me as he runs his hand through his hair. “She’s was the only relationship since
you,” he suddenly says, and his confession breaks my already shattered heart.

He looks back at me as if he’s waiting for a response, waiting
for me to admit something too.

“I was living with someone until just recently. It didn’t work
out,” I share rather quickly. I can feel this conversation leading in a
direction that will possibly have both of us screaming at each other and me
crying again. I can’t keep doing this.

“I’m not really feeling that great. I think I’m going to head
back and take some more aspirin.” It all comes out in a rush, almost too
quickly to understand, and I don’t wait for Benji to respond before I start for
the door.

“Will you be there when I get home?” he asks, and I can hear a
small cry of desperation in his voice.

“Do you want me to be?”

“Yes,” he says, but it comes out as plea as if he knows I’m
thinking about leaving.

“Okay,” I tell him, my eyes locking on his and he smiles.

“Good. And Campbell?” he says, “Take my truck. I’ll walk back.”

“Thanks, Benji, but I kinda want to walk.”

“Then at least take my coat,” he says, motioning to a hook by
the door. Just as I’m about to protest, he smiles again and this time it stops
me, a reminder of how beautiful he really is. He’s absolutely gorgeous and I
almost miss his words when he says, “Don’t be a stubborn pain in the ass,
Campbell.”

I smile back at him and take his coat from the hook. As soon as
I put it on, I’m hit with a smell that I’ll never forget.

Benji.

Yet with the smell, returns the memories of all the things I
love and everything I hate.

It’s not my house, but it doesn’t take me long to get
comfortable in it. The next thing I know, I’ve fallen asleep on Benji’s couch.
Exhausted from last night’s drinking and its subsequent hangover, in addition
to all the arguing today that seems to be coming in short, but really intense
bursts. I can only act like I’m okay for so long before it all catches up with
me. Sometimes just living my life is exhausting.

I wake to the sound of cabinet doors closing and the smell of
cooking food. I don’t know what it is, but it smells delicious. And again, I
feel like I’m waking up in a life that belongs to someone else. It can’t be
mine.

Yawning groggily, I shuffle into the kitchen to find Benji at
the stove giving a pot of noodles a quick stir before returning to a pan of
chicken.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he says.

“You’re making me dinner?” I ask, and I don’t know why but I
feel my stomach tighten into a knot. This is wrong. We were screaming at each
other, then he wanted to talk about it, and now he’s making me dinner as if
everything’s fine. He shouldn’t be this nice to me. He shouldn’t act like
nothing’s changed. But he does. I hate it.

I want to ask him how he can carry on as if nothing has happened.
How he can wake up in the morning and not hate his life, not want to stay in
bed. I wonder if like me, his heart feels like it’s been ripped from his chest.
Are there times that he struggles to breathe or wonders what it would feel like
to end it all? The crippling pain of secrets and death and lies that consume
you; it never ends. Even after nine years, everything is still raw. He can’t
possibly feel this way, or he hides it well.

“I can’t do this,” I say, a mixture of anger and sadness
weighing me down.

He stands there looking at me and I want to scream at him again.
Yell in his face and tell him I hate him, blame him for the way I’ve felt for
the last nine years, for the way I feel right now. I need someone else to
blame. I’m angry with myself for coming here, angry with him for acting as if
nothing has changed, that we aren’t a gigantic fucked up mess.

But worst of all, I hate the fact that I need him. I don’t want
to need him because it makes me pathetic. Nine years gone and I still need him.

I want to confess everything to him. I want to tell him how
lonely I am and how I never stopped loving him. I want to show him Tommy’s
letter and tell him how it ripped my heart out and left me a mess. I blame
myself for it all, but saying it out loud is a risk I can’t take, because it’s
what hurts the most. I can’t let him in, only to lose him all over again.

And the tears start again. I don’t want to cry anymore, but my
body forces me, a never-ending betrayal. I don’t even know what’s going on
anymore.
Is this really my life?

But without acknowledging my words, without a word spoken from
him, I find myself in Benji’s arms. The tears are falling hard and fast as I bury
my face in his chest, soaking his t-shirt with each ragged, muffled cry that
leaves my mouth. I feel his arms tighten around my body; I can smell him, and
feel him, his heart beating against my ear. I should find comfort in all of
this, but all I can think is,
What if I
lose him too?

I don’t know how long we stand like this, me wrapped in Benji’s
arms, neither of us saying a word. The time passing slowly, but quickly all at
the same time and I long to have him hold me forever.

Benji’s the first to speak. I hear his hushed voice shushing me
as I continue to cry, wondering if my tears will ever run dry.

“It’s okay,” he says. “We’ll be okay.” And while there’s no
truth in his words, they’re the words I longed to hear him say nine years ago
when this whole thing started. It wouldn’t have corrected everything that was
wrong or everything we did, but it may have been the one thing that could’ve saved
us.

“I’m sorry,” I say eventually pulling away from him.

“Stop, Campbell. You have nothing to be sorry for,” Benji says,
his fingers softly brushing my cheek as he tucks my hair behind my ear. When I
look up at him, my heart breaks. His eyes are filled with tears and he looks
like being near me is painful, but I also feel like he’d do anything in the
world to make all of this disappear. Not just for him, but for both of us.

“Take a few minutes,” he says, his voice sympathetic. “And then
come have dinner with me. You need to eat.”

I nod at him and head back to the bedroom I found myself in this
morning. I start to wonder why Benji lives in such a big house. The bedroom I’m
staying in is one of four. It has a huge attached bathroom with a steam shower
and a soaker tub, and as I look around, I feel like I don’t ever want to leave.
All of this an escape from what my life has become.

I quickly wash my face and brush my teeth, not wanting to keep
Benji waiting, but as I look in the mirror, it’s obvious I’ve been crying. And
not just ordinary crying, it’s the kind that makes your lips swell and your
eyes red and puffy. I look like shit.

I run a brush through my hair and sweep it into a ponytail,
pulling it off my face which probably only accentuates the fact that I look
like hell.

As I turn to the leave the bathroom, something catches my
attention. There’s a small bottle sitting on the ledge along the side of the
bathtub that wasn’t there before. I pick it up and smile. A bottle of
eucalyptus oil.

Did he know I was going to be here? How long has he had this?
Why would he hold onto something like this after all these years? It’s the
exact brand I use, it’s impossible to find, and to this day it still makes me
think of him.

I take the bottle with me and when I enter the kitchen Benji is
setting the table.

“What’s this?” I ask him, and he turns to look at me.

“It’s for you,” he says, shrugging his shoulders as he returns
to setting the table; acting like this is a casual conversation and I wasn’t
just sobbing uncontrollably into his t-shirt. I find his ability to forgive me
and forget that I’ve lost my shit too many times a relief. I don’t know how he’s
able to, but it makes me love him all over again.

I don’t push it anymore, I just set the bottle on the island and
take a seat at the table.

“Thank you for doing all this,” I say, as he sets a plate of
chicken marsala and angel hair pasta in front of me. I shake my head and add, “This
is my favorite.”

“I know,” is all he says as he sits down across from me.

We begin eating in silence, but this time there’s nothing
uncomfortable about it. Actually it’s strangely comforting, and for a minute I
start to imagine what our life would’ve been like had everything not fallen apart.
But I can’t go there and I won’t start crying again. I look away from him and
out the window as I try to regain my composure.

“You don’t have to try so hard to be normal,” he says, his hand
sliding across the table to cover mine.

Without looking at him I ask, “Why are you being so nice to me?
I’ve been horrible to you.” I free my hand out from under his, not ready to be
this intimate with him again. Just his touch can be too much for me.

“Campbell,” he says, but it comes out faint and he clears his throat.
“Despite everything that’s happened, it’s never changed the way I feel about
you.”

And fuck me if the tears aren’t back. Will this shit ever end? I
wipe at my eyes determined not to cry again. I take in a deep breath, my eyes
still focused on the landscape outside.

“How’d you end up here?” I ask him, and he laughs a little. I’m
not sure if it’s because of the sudden change in conversation or if the story
of how he got here has something funny attached to it.

“Alex,” he says, and when I cock my eyebrow at him, he
continues. “I met Alex in Sydney. We were roommates and when his dad died and
he came back to take over the bar, I went with him. There was nothing holding
me in Sydney. No real job, no girl.” He stops and winks at me and it makes me
blush.

I love the way he can still make my stomach flutter and my heart
race with just a simple gesture. I’m drawn to him like I’ve never been to
anyone before, but as much as I’d love to fall back into our old habits, we
aren’t the same people we were back then.

“So I moved in with him.” He leans over slightly, looking out
the window and I follow his eyes. “See that small cabin? That one.” He points
out past the pond and I nod my head. “That’s Alex and Annie’s house. All of
this is theirs,” he says, and I give him a confused look.

“I thought this was your house?”

“It is, but this is their land. I just live on it. Run the
business out of their barn. They had no use for it, and when I told him I was
going to buy some land out here and build a house, he suggested I just pick a
spot on his twenty acres. And that’s exactly what I did.”

I admire his ability to live like this, in the middle of nowhere;
doing something he obviously loves without worrying about the predetermined
norms of society. I wish I were him. I wish I could disappear and live a quiet
existence that isn’t ruled by my job or my ability to turn a profit or my
incessant need to feel numb.

“This had to have taken forever to build,” I say, looking
around.

“It took me four years,” he responds, and again I find myself
giving him a questioning look. “I built it myself.” I watch him quickly look
away from me as if he’s uncomfortable talking about it.

“Benji, it’s amazing. It was beautiful before I knew you built
it, but now it’s just…” I trail off unable to find the right words to describe
it. “I don’t even know what to say.”

He finally looks back at me, a forced smile on his face, and
behind his eyes, I finally see sadness. He isn’t okay and the thought breaks my
heart.

“Sometimes you just need a distraction,” he says, and doesn’t
elaborate. He doesn’t need to; I know exactly what he means.

After I left Ann Arbor, after I walked away from Benji and
Tommy, thinking I’d left the mess behind me, it was far from the truth. It
haunted everything I did and everything I was. I threw myself into school,
taking far too many classes and when I graduated early, it only reminded me of
how awful my life had become. Lonely, but unable to let anyone in for fear I’d
admit the secret I held inside, afraid the lies I’d spun would eventually sell
me out. So, I started working for Jack and each day that passed, I found myself
working harder, working longer hours, desperate to find a distraction,
desperate to forget. And when I couldn’t quiet my brain in the evenings, long
after the workday was done, I’d drink. A lot. None of it worked. It was all
just a Band-Aid, but I still do it. And it still doesn’t work.

“Did it work?” I ask him, even though I know the answer.

“Never.”

We finish dinner without our conversations taking a turn for the
depressing, even though it’s still there just below the surface. It never
fades. But like the last nine years of our lives, we’re exhausted and raw with
regret. It becomes too much and we both realize that we are in no shape to
dissect it right now.

As I’m washing the dishes from dinner, Benji gets a fire started
in the fireplace. He doesn’t ask me to stay, but there’s an unspoken invitation
as if saying it out loud makes what we’re doing real.

I join him on the couch, sitting strangely far from him and he chuckles
as he stretches out, laying down and resting his feet in my lap.

“I’ve spent all day working and if you’re only going to take up
a corner of my couch with your tiny ass, then I’m gonna be comfortable,” he
says smugly.

I give him an annoyed look as I stick my tongue out at him. I
watch him fold his hands behind his head, an arrogant look on his face.

“If you can’t keep that tongue in your mouth, I can find
something to keep it busy.”

I feel my face heat up almost immediately and when he sits up,
leaning close to my ear, my entire body feels like it’s on fire. I can feel the
warmth of his skin, his hot breath tickling the sensitive spot below my ear as
he whispers, “I love that I can still make you blush. It’s so fucking hot.”

“It’s hot in here,” I respond back, shakily, and he laughs,
falling back onto the pillows as he settles himself where he once was.

“You wish that was all it was,” he retorts. He’s teasing me and
I love it. Everything about this is so natural and both of us are smiling now.

We spend a few minutes flipping through the channels on TV, only
to find there’s nothing on, so he switches over to his DVR.

“Oh my god, why do you have an entire season of
The Walking Dead
on here?” I ask,
shocked that anyone could let it sit unwatched. “What the hell is wrong with
you?”

“Relax,” he says sarcastically, giving me a poke in the side
with his foot. “I just haven’t had time to watch it.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? We’ve got nothing but time
tonight.” I smirk at him, giving his foot a squeeze as I slide my fingers up
the leg of his jeans, letting my fingertips trail along his skin. And now I
watch his cheeks turn a slight shade of pink and I’m shocked that I’ve made him
blush now.

We blow through the first two episodes of the season rather
quickly, even though Benji would not stop asking me questions. And as we begin
to start episode three, I can’t take it anymore.

“Would you shut up!” I finally yell and he laughs.

“Just tell me what’s going to happen!” he screams back.

“No!”

“You’re going to pay for this later,” he says firmly, giving me
a long serious stare and it makes me swallow hard. I hope he does make me pay
for it later, the same way he used to. I have a sudden image of him pinning me
to the bed, the weight of his body pressed against me, my arms above my head,
his hands locked around my wrists. The thought makes me squirm and right now
all I can think about is Benji.

Suddenly he pauses the TV and practically jumps off the couch, a
huge smile on his face.

“I forgot something,” he says and I can hear the happiness in
his voice. I turn around on the couch, looking over the back and watching him
as he opens the refrigerator and takes out a bag.

“What is it?” I ask, excitedly, now sitting up on my knees,
practically bouncing up and down and he shakes his head.

“Be patient.”

“Stop teasing me.”

“Stop being so fucking adorable.”

That’s all it takes to silence me. My words caught in my throat,
my heart racing as I suddenly can’t control myself. Since I arrived here, I’ve
felt the intense connection we once had and I think he feels it too. When he
warmed my hands, when he pressed his face to my neck, when he kissed me; it
brought back everything I’ve missed about him, everything we once had. As much
as I’ve fought it, I can’t any longer.

He finally stops in front of me, his hands behind his back; he
pulls out a red velvet cupcake. He’s smiling and while I love that he
remembered I love red velvet cupcakes, I don’t fucking care right now. I know
what I want and I’m not thinking about anything else. He’s all I want.

“I don’t want that cupcake,” I say, my eyes locked on his and he
seems put off by my words. He takes a step backward, but I step toward him,
taking the cupcake from his hands and setting it on the coffee table.

“What do you want?” he asks, as if he’s unsure and his voice
trembles, almost like he’s anxious about what my answer will be.

“I want you,” I say, closing the small distance between us, and
when I press up on my toes, my mouth close to his ear, I whisper, “Be my
distraction.”

No more words are spoken between us as he backs me up to the
couch slowly, his hand sliding into my hair, his arm wrapped around my waist. I
find myself lying back on the couch as Benji’s body covers mine, the weight of
his body calming me, as the touch of his skin to mine, excites me.

I feel his lips against my neck and my body is covered in goose bumps;
I tangle my hands in his hair, pulling him closer.

This is something I never thought I’d feel again. The intensity
and intimacy of it all almost overwhelming, but somehow what I’ve needed for so
long. Being here with Benji, in his arms, and even though I know all the
reasons I’m here and all the painful memories are still hidden, I don’t want to
feel them right now. I silently wish for this to never end and as if he hears
me, he presses closer to me, until his body completely covers mine.

“Campbell,” he softly moans against my skin and I shudder, my
body overly sensitive. “I’ve missed everything about you,” he says, leaving a
trail of kisses along the line of my jaw. “I’ve missed the way you smell, the
way you feel in my arms, the way you taste,” he whispers, as he sucks at my
neck.

His lips press a series of soft kisses along my neck and cheek
until he reaches my mouth, pressing a slow, gentle kiss to my lips. Everything
about this moment feels so perfect, like this is the way our life should’ve
been. Nothing in my life has been this right, this real since the accident.