The End of All Things Beautiful (18 page)

We step out of the car, the air cold against my already cool skin
and I shudder at the sting as it hits my face. But I know it’s more than that;
it’s not just the cold air, but all of it coupled with where we are and what we’re
about to do.

Benji meets me in front of the car, like he knows it’s going to
be a struggle for me to walk any farther without him close to me. Of course he
knows this, because I imagine he’s struggling too. His arm slips around my
waist and pulls me against his side, kissing the top of my head.

“Can you tell me what happened?” I ask through a shaky voice, my
words swallowed by the eerie silence of the road. It’s deserted like it was
that day, but something about its lack of noise seems peaceful, yet still
somehow uncomfortably silent. The road is now repaved and the shoulder gravel
packed firmly, undisturbed by the lack of cars that travel this route. All of
it hiding what once happened here. Forgotten.

But not really.

Benji’s arm tightens around my waist and he stops short of where
the shoulder meets the road. We both look around, but I can sense he feels more
than I do. I remember very little about the accident, really. I remember only a
few details from the night in general. Although I can still picture what it
looked like. While, what the cars looked like and seeing Sam’s body is
something I will never be able to forget, but the majority of it is lost.
Sometimes I wonder if that’s a good thing, but I also know it’s not, because my
brain likes to fill in the missing details and at times they are horrific.

“We were coming from the east,” Benji starts, pointing in that
direction as he turns our bodies to face the way the car was traveling. “The
other car was coming around this curve.” Again he points, angling his hand
around to show the curve of the road.

In the dark of that night it all looked so different, scary and
ominous, but here in the light of day, nine years gone, it looks like any old
road, like it could be anywhere in the United States, like it doesn’t have
death marring it. It also doesn’t look like the kind of road that is known for causing
accidents. It doesn’t have steep hills or blind curves or an extended
straightaway that would make speed a factor. Yet both cars were speeding that
night, both cars took the curve too fast, and one of the drivers was drunk. All
of those factors played into what happened, what could’ve easily been avoided,
but somehow came together like fate, an ugly, cruel fate.

“I only know what Tommy told me, but he said we hit the other
car head on.” Benji’s words are quiet and although there isn’t a soul around,
it’s like he’s whispering so no one but me hears. “The car then spun around and
hit this light pole.” He motions to a new pole that has been put up in place of
the old one. It’s surreal once again, as if nothing ever happened here. They
just come along and clean it all up, replace the broken parts, cart away the
damage and all the broken glass becomes part of the road. Like it never
happened.

Blissfully unaware.

But again, not really.

“The windows shattered when we hit the other car,” Benji says
continuing with the story and I interrupt him.

“I remember that,” I say, and it’s almost a relief that I
remember something that really happened, that it hasn’t been created by my mind
or filled in to make the story that plays in my head complete. I look up at him
and he nods his head.

I can feel Benji’s breath against my hair, the cold air makes it
come out ragged and labored, but I know that isn’t the only reason. This is
painful for him too, maybe even more painful for him because he remembers it
all.

“Tommy told me that he thinks when we hit the light pole…” Benji
stops shy of finishing his sentence, turning me in his arms until I’m flush
against his body. Both his arms wrapped around me in an embrace that says he
needs me, he needs to be as close as possible.
 

“He saw Sam’s head hit the pole because the windows were gone.
He thinks that’s what killed him,” he spits out suddenly. “He said he looked
like a rag doll.” Benji’s chin is now resting on the top of my head, his arms
cinched around me so tightly, it’s almost hard to breathe. And as if he
realizes it, his hold loosens, but returns again as he begins to speak.

“The side of his head was all bloody. I mean, it was obvious he
was dead,” he says with little emotion to his voice, and I don’t think he’s
being heartless. He’s trying to separate what he feels to keep it from hurting
too much.

I pull him closer to me, my arms around him and I press up on my
toes to kiss his neck. I leave my lips there and we stand together, silently
mourning the loss of our friend, along with the loss of our innocence. Something
we never did, something we needed to do.

We don’t discuss what made him decide to leave Sam and there are
times I think I want to know what his thought process was, what he and Tommy
talked about, but then there are other times I’m glad I wasn’t the one who
ultimately made the decision. None of it weighs on me like it does him. I have
my own issues, my own insecurities over the whole thing and maybe it’s selfish
of me not to want to know and not to ask, but I leave it alone. I also often
find myself wondering if he even knows why we left. If it was just one of those
choices that doesn’t make any sense and you have no idea what drove you to do
it. Fear, in this case would be my only guess.

When we finally separate, we walk down the road a few feet to
the place where the other car came to rest. We both stop, but say nothing as
Benji’s hand slides down my arm and entwines with mine.

“It was a family,” Benji says, again his voice a hushed whisper
that is nearly lost in the wind. “They had two boys, I’d guess they were six
and four. I don’t know,” he adds, but it’s almost like he feels horrible for
even speculating on any of it. “He would’ve died anyway, at least that’s what I
tell myself. It’s a lie. Maybe he would’ve lived.”

I look up and see Benji’s face as a stray tear escapes from his
eye and his jaw tenses. Without thinking, I rest my hand on his cheek, my thumb
brushing away the tear and he leans into my touch.

I wish I knew what to say to ease his pain. I wish I had the
words to take away everything that happened and make his world right again. But
I have nothing. I can only give him myself and hope that I’m enough; that I’ll
always be enough for him.

“How can you not hate me?” he asks, but he’s angry now and it
breaks my heart.

“Benji,” I murmur, the tears now falling. “I don’t hate you. I
couldn’t. Ever. I love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.” I can’t
believe he would ever doubt how I feel about him or think I could feel that
negatively toward him. “I see past all of this,” I say holding his face in my
hands, making sure he sees me. “And I know you’re a good person and your choice
back then won’t dictate your life, it won’t dictate our life together.” I hope
he hears me, hears the truth in everything I’m saying, but he turns away from
me. It’s crushing.

“We checked each one of their pulses, made sure they were dead,”
he says, cold and emotionless. “We watched that boy bleed out. Now how do you
feel about me?” he asks, and I know what he’s doing.

“Stop it, Benji. You’re not going to push me away. I’m not
leaving and you’re not the person who did those things, you never were.” I take
his face in my hands so he’s looking at me again and I can see that as much as
he’s trying to hide it, this is killing him. All of this is killing him. He’s
not angry; he’s beside himself with grief and guilt. “I love you,” I tell him,
his face still in my hands. I tell him again and again until he’s crying, his
face buried in the curve of my neck.

“I need you, Campbell,” he mumbles. “More than I ever thought
possible. Don’t ever leave me,” he begs, and with each word, a stuttered cry
leaves my mouth.

“Never,” I whisper, stroking his hair as he hugs me tightly. “I’ll
never leave you again.” Knowing I need him as much as he needs me.

We have one more stop to make before we head back to Chicago to
meet up with Jack. It’s a place Benji suggested we go and at first I was
adamant that we don’t. I didn’t think I could handle it, but this is about
facing what happened and this is part of it. Benji pulls into the cemetery
parking lot and I feel my stomach drop to the floor.

“I came here once, right after the accident. With Tommy,” Benji
adds as we exit the car. Due to the cold weather, the cemetery is also empty.

We did our research before we left. It’s strange what you can
find on the internet, the gravesites and cemetery locations of the deceased. It
also wasn’t hard to find out their names, the accident was all over the
newspapers after it happened and Benji tells me, their names will be something
he never forgets.

It takes us a little while before we finally locate what we’re
looking for, but when we do, it’s more difficult to take in than I thought.
Seeing their names on the grave markers, all four together, the dates literally
set in stone.

Final.

There will be nothing more for any of them and seeing it all,
what we did, what we created when all five of us made the worst choice of our
lives, it’s scary as hell. How quickly it can all end and what it did to our
lives and theirs.

There is no salvation in standing here; it just makes everything
even more real. I’m not sure what we thought we would accomplish by coming
here, but it has just added to our guilt and our hatred for what we’ve done.
Maybe that’s all part of coming to terms with this or maybe it’s something we
should’ve avoided. It’s too late now.

Neither of us says a word, we just stare at the names on the
grave markers, as we stand hand in hand. I can’t look at Benji and it’s not
because of what he shared with me. It’s because I know when I see his face I’ll
start to cry.

This is all extremely overwhelming and up until this point these
people were just part of a memory I had that was hazy and broken. But now,
seeing it in front of me makes these people real. They had lives, families and
friends. We took that from them. They could’ve easily been Jack or Alex and
Annie, people I work with, or people Benji and I know. They were someone’s
brother, sister, son, daughter, or grandchild. They were parents and the only
solace and small bit of comfort I find in any of this is that they died
together. But that doesn’t mean they didn’t suffer, that their families and
friends didn’t suffer too.

That Benji and I won’t suffer with the reality of it all.

We will. We probably always will.

We say our goodbyes, as much as we can to a family we didn’t
know, but whose life we ruined. There’s an apology in there too, but it doesn’t
matter. The damage is done.

The sky has begun to grow dark as the day fades to night. I
shudder in Benji’s arms as we walk together back to the car. The way the night
falls makes it seem like it’s covering everything we’ve done with black as if
it’s now behind us. I want it to be, but as much as much as I want it, I know
it will always be a part of us.

Before we climb in the car, Benji takes me in his arms and we
hold each other, just finding the comfort that only we can bring to each other.

“Thank you,” he says, and my eyes close. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

It’s been a long day, filled with regret and tears, comfort and
peace, and far too much guilt, but it’s not over. Far from it.

And as Benji starts the engine, I say, “You sure you’re ready to
come clean?” And without thinking about it, I take his hand in mine, covering
the outside of his as I press a kiss in the center of his palm. I watch his
eyes close and he takes a deep breath, readying himself to answer my question.

Jack will be the first person we share this all with and as much
as it needs to be done, it doesn’t mean it’s not absolutely terrifying.

“I can’t live with this secret anymore, Campbell,” he says with
complete sincerity. “I can’t live like this.”

“Neither can I.”

We arrive back at my house just before nine and even though I
told Jack to meet us here, I wish I’d have told him to come tomorrow instead. I’m
exhausted, mentally, physically and emotionally, and I can see it all mirrored
in Benji’s face too.

“Come here,” he says as I’m walking back out of the bedroom, my
body tired, but I make my way to him anyway. When he opens his arms, I step
into them without thinking as he pulls me against his firm chest.

I love how we’ve fallen back into this pattern of normalcy
within our relationship. It happened so quickly, but in the end it’s what I’ve
always wanted. I love that he knows exactly what to do to make me feel better,
to calm me and to make me feel loved.

I know most would think it’s strange that I fell in love with
him as a kid, but I knew from the moment I met him that we would be together
forever. There was a part of me that missed him terribly when we weren’t
together, like I wasn’t fully myself, like I wasn’t whole. How I survived these
last nine years without him is almost incomprehensible and honestly, I really
didn’t.

But as we stand here together, me in his arms, I know we’re
going to get through this, all of it and we’re going to do it together.

The buzzer to my apartment goes off, causing us to separate, and
Benji kisses me quickly before saying, “You ready?”

“I guess so,” I respond, with a loose smile on my face as I try
to mask the fact that I’m terrified.

Benji smiles at me, perfect and sweet and then he reaches for
me, pulling me into his arms as he laughs. “I know you’re scared. It’s written
all over your face.”

“Then stop laughing at me,” I say back, pretending to try to
break free from his hold.

“I’m not laughing at you,” he says, his fingers slipping under
my sweater and pinching my side. “I’m laughing because it feels good to
remember every little thing about you. Every single thing you do reminds me of
how much I love you.”

I melt against him, his body cradling mine like we were meant to
be together, like two pieces of a puzzle, fitting together perfectly.

“I’ll get the door,” Benji says as I slip out of his arms.
Grabbing my wrist, he pulls me back, kissing me hastily and then adds, “Go make
some coffee. Something tells me we’re going to need it.”

He slaps my butt as I’m walking away and I giggle. It feels good
to have him here, to interact so normally, nothing about it is forced and I love
it. I love that he’s trying to make this situation less anxious for both of us.

A few minutes later Jack walks in with a troubled look on his
face. I can’t even begin to imagine the horrible scenarios he has playing out
in his head as to why I wanted to meet with him.

As much as I’ve tried to hide my problems from him and from
everyone around me, I realize now that I failed miserably.

I’m curled up on the couch with my coffee mug in my hands, the
warmth of the mug soothing. I set it down on the coffee table and stand to
greet Jack. I wouldn’t dare hug him, even that would be too much of an abrupt
change from our normal. We’ve never been that type of brother and sister, even
when I wasn’t falling apart.

“Hey,” I say, giving him a little smile, but it does nothing to
calm his fears of why he’s here in the first place.

He looks at me and then at Benji before returning his gaze to
me. His head is tipped to the side slightly when he says, “You look different.”

“Really?” I ask not, realizing how much different I actually
feel too. With each step forward Benji and I take, it’s like I get lighter,
like I’ve been carrying around a pocket full of rocks and with each admission,
with each realization, I lose one.
 

“Yeah and don’t tell me this was about Benji the whole time.
Like pining after him, lost love, and all that shit.” He rolls his eyes and it
makes me laugh. It wasn’t just about Benji, although I was pretty wretched
without him.

“Not exactly,” I say, giving him a bit of a glare.

“Awww, see that, baby? I thought it was always about me,” Benji
says, sitting down on the couch, tugging my hand and taking me with him. Jack
follows along, sitting in the chair across from us, still eyeing us with
suspicion.

“I know you did,” I shoot back, teasing him. “It was always
about you, baby.” I pat Benji’s cheek and he smiles at me.

“Geez, it didn’t take you two very long to get back to all that
annoying baby shit I remember so well from when we were in high school,” Jack
quips, the humor in his voice breaking through as the naturalness of our conversation
takes over.

The tension in the room begins to dissipate, but I know the real
reason we’re all here, and it’s not going to go away with a few simple jokes.
 

 
I offer Jack a cup
of coffee and when I leave the room to get it, Benji and Jack begin talking. I
can overhear everything and I’m grateful to Benji for starting a conversation
that may have taken me the whole night to start.

I want to tell Jack everything, but there’s also the fear and
the worry that telling him brings. I’m worried about what he might think of
what we did, the judgment and the fear of losing him. Even though we’ve never
been close, I still don’t want him to not be a part of my life.

I know that with sharing what Benji and I did there’s always a chance
he won’t be able to look past it, that he won’t be able to see we made a
mistake and that for the last nine years it’s nearly killed us. He doesn’t have
to be sympathetic toward us. But I hope he is. I hope he understands we never
meant for any of this to happen. And even more, we never meant for it to damage
so many lives.

I hear Benji thank Jack for coming and explain that what we have
to tell him involves both of us. He asks Jack to listen to what we have to say
first before he responds, and then in a voice that is quieter than normal, he
asks Jack not to judge me.

My heart clenches at his concern for me and I spend an extra
minute in the kitchen trying to control my emotions. I can’t start crying
before we’ve even had a chance to explain to Jack what’s going on.

When I walk back out, Benji and Jack have fallen silent and Jack
looks up at me when I hand him his coffee.

He looks at Benji and shakes his head. “What the hell did you
two do?
 
Have an abortion? Some
illegitimate kid running around?” he asks, and I know all of these things would
be huge secrets in most cases, but they’re not even close. I almost respond
with, “I wish,” because either one of those scenarios sound better than what we’re
about to tell him.

I take a deep breath and sit down beside Benji. I feel his hand
slide across my thigh, coming to rest above my knee and it makes me think of
Tommy. Of that day in the car, of the kiss he placed on my head and his quiet,
melodic voice. Benji and I owe him so much and hopefully in death he finds the
peace he needs. And I hope that with each sharing of our story, Benji and I
find the support and comfort we need.

“Nine years ago, Benji and I were in a car accident,” I start,
and immediately Jack’s demeanor changes. He sits up straighter, he sets his
coffee mug down and I see in his eyes he knows exactly what I’m talking about.

“The one that killed Sam,” Benji adds, but I’m certain we didn’t
need to say it.

“We were all there. Tommy, Kelly, Benji, Sam, and me.” I
suddenly look away from Jack, his eyes focused on mine and I can’t help but
feel exposed.

My hands fidget in my lap and Benji covers them with his as Jack
sits across from us saying nothing. Benji did ask him to reserve his judgment
until we’re done so I know I need to continue.

“We left the scene after the accident out of fear. We were all
drunk and high, our thoughts were not what they should’ve been and for the last
nine years, we’ve kept the whole thing a secret.” It all comes out in a rush
and while I’ve given him the gist of it, any emotion that should be attached to
it is gone.

Over the last nine years I’ve found myself emotionally detached
from everything, including Jack. It’s hard for me to expose myself to him
without keeping up this wall I’ve had in place for too long. I worry he’ll see
me as weak.

“Campbell,” Benji says, and I turn to look at him. His eyes are
full of pity; sad and confused. This isn’t the girl he knows sitting here with
him right now. This is the person I became when I learned to shut down after
the accident. “Don’t do this,” he whispers, taking my hand in his and kissing
it.

“I’m sorry,” I respond taking in his face, and I know I’m going
to cry, but I need to be okay with it.

“We’re both struggling,” Benji adds, looking over at Jack and he
nods his head. I can’t read his expression and it makes me even more anxious. Jack
has always been stoic, so it shouldn’t surprise me that this is how he’s responding.
His business thrives based on his ability to detach himself from the emotional
end of it. And given this is how I’ve treated him for so long, I probably
deserve the same in return.

It’s a lot to unload on one person, but unfortunately there’s
more. With Benji sitting next to me, my hand in his, he gives it a little
squeeze as if he’s encouraging me to continue.

“So, in addition to Sam dying in the accident, a family was
killed too.” Again my words come out formal and it causes me to swallow hard. I
need to let my guard down and be honest with him. “It was horrible,” I finally
say. “It took a toll on all of us and it led to Kelly killing herself and Tommy
dong the same thing.”

I wish I could explain to him all the feelings and emotions I
carried with me throughout all of this, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to
put it into words.

“It all became a part of me,” I admit to Jack. “It became who I
was and who I am.”

After everything, I found the grief and loss hard, but what is
harder is the guilt. I may have lost far too many people I loved, but the guilt
took more of me away. Guilt never leaves. With grief and death, you try to carry
on, but you still feel it even after it’s gone. Like the sharp sting of a paper
cut, it’s quick and fleeting. But guilt lives on in your conscience, it lives
in your heart, reminding you of what you’ve done. And even after you’ve
forgiven yourself, you can’t forget it.

We eventually tell Jack everything, including the details of
Tommy’s letters and what we spent yesterday doing. And while we both agreed
there would be no more secrets or lies, we keep one thing to ourselves.

Neither of us mentions the boy that Tommy and Benji watched die
in the car after the accident. It’s not mine to tell and I understand why Benji
keeps it to himself. There comes a time in the telling of all of this that some
things can remain unspoken. That the specific details only add to the tragedy
rather than end it. This is one of those.

I feel like I’ve been waiting hours for Jack to say something.
We’ve finished telling him and I can tell he’s trying to process it. It’s a lot
to take in. But my need to gauge a response from him is weighing on me.

“Well, this explains a lot,” he eventually says, and again I can’t
tell what he’s thinking. I want to beg him to say something more, but I keep my
mouth shut. He runs his hand through his hair, but sits quietly.

My patience is wearing thin and my anxiety is eating at me as I
pick my nails, but Benji, again takes my hand and manages to calm me with just
his touch.

When Jack starts to speak again, I feel my breathing speed up.
It’s like I have been holding my breath for the last ten minutes and now my
body is trying to catch up.

“I wish you would’ve told me a long time ago, Campbell,” he
says. “I’m sorry that you dealt with this alone for all these years.”

A deep exhale of air leaves my body and my eyes close. He doesn’t
hate me. He doesn’t think I’m a horrible person. Yet what he says next shocks
me. I never expected him to have this reaction.

“I should’ve tried harder to help you,” he says quickly, shaking
his head as if he’s blaming himself. “Campbell, I let you suffer. I looked the
other way even though I knew there was something wrong. What kind of person
does that? I’m your brother for fuck’s sake and I acted like I didn’t care.”

“Jack, no,” I say immediately, standing and walking over to
where he’s sitting. “This isn’t on you. This was me. I pushed you away. I
wouldn’t have let you help me.”

“But I should’ve tried.”

I can almost feel the guilt he feels. I know it well and I don’t
want him to think this is somehow his fault.

“That’s why we decided to tell you everything. We all have a lot
to work through. Not just Benji and me, but you and me too. I want to make
things right between us.”

“I’m here for you, Campbell,” Jack says, and when he stands up,
I hug him. All his forgiveness and understanding means more to me than I can
ever express.

“Thank you.”

It’s been a long day and after spending another hour talking
with Jack, Benji and him catching up and the three of us returning to a normal
conversation, we wish Jack good night. As he leaves, I finally start to feel
like my life might one day return to normal. That Benji and I will be happy;
that we’ll be able to move on.