The End of All Things Beautiful (22 page)

In this moment I also realize Benji’s business is named after me
too. CB, Campbell and Benji. I smile at him, again unsure of what to say and I
can tell by the way he’s looking at me he realizes I’ve connected the pieces.

“The store too?” I ask and his smile spreads as he nods his
head.

“I thought that if you ever did try to find me, it would be a reminder
that I never forgot you. I never could. Everything I did was because of you,
Campbell.”

As much as I know why I never came looking for Benji until after
Tommy’s letter, I wonder why he never looked for me.

“Why didn’t you ever try to find me?” I ask him, despite knowing
I left angry and hurt. I didn’t say it then, but my silence made it clear I was
done.

“I wanted to, but I also knew you were hurt by my behavior. I
wasn’t the same person after the accident. I couldn’t be who you needed me to
be and if I did find you, I would’ve had to admit everything I saw and
everything that happened. I wasn’t ready.”

“It wouldn’t have changed the way I felt about you. I might have
been angry, but I still loved you,” I reassure him.

“I know that now, but then I didn’t.”

“All that matters now is that we’ve found our way back to each
other,” I tell Benji, kissing him softly.

“You’re right.”

I’ve never been happier about the prospect of the future and of what’s
to come for Benji and me. Now we just have to someway correct this situation
with Samantha.

There has always been a lot to discuss regarding the accident
and the lives we ruined throughout all of this. Tommy’s wife, Samantha, being
one of them. It’s hard to know exactly what to do, but for some reason, setting
things right with her seems like a priority. While Benji and I have talked a
lot about the accident and the lives it affected, we haven’t really discussed
how Samantha came to be or the feelings her presence created in me. I’ve left it
alone, focusing on the people most directly involved. In my mind, I’ve pushed
her aside, even though I know she was indirectly traumatized by it all. I
haven’t wanted to share how she made me feel. The guilt I carry is still
stifling, but I know I can’t leave her out of all of this.

After much debate, Benji and I decide not to meet up with Sam or
Kelly’s families right now, but we both agree that Samantha needs an
explanation even if she’s not interested in hearing the truth. For our own
piece of mind, we need to salvage what we can, and possibly purge some of this
guilt we have that surrounds Tommy’s death. While we were never directly
involved, our indirect connection to it all has taken its toll on both of us.

We also have always felt that visiting Sam and Kelly’s families
would only open a very loosely healed wound. Like ripping off a scab, it’s not
necessary; it will only create an even bigger scar. Our goal in all of this is
not to make someone’s life worse, but to help all that are involved heal. There
would be no healing for their families should we admit what we’ve done,
especially in Sam’s case. There comes a time when we have to be okay with what
we’ve done and know that we can’t change it, but we can continue to repair our
own lives. I also wonder if there’s a part of us that fears their reaction.
Maybe someday we’ll regret our decision, but until then, we have to learn to
deal with it.

We’ve also given a lot of thought to going to the police in Ann
Arbor and confessing. But after Benji’s research and his visit to the station
many years ago, we’ve both found that under the law, we would be guilty of
nothing.

The passenger of a vehicle, whether they leave the scene or not,
cannot be held responsible for what occurs at the hand of the driver. What the
law doesn’t say is the guilt that will haunt you will always be enough of a
punishment.

I often wonder if either of us will ever fully recover from this
and the answer is probably not. While we have each other now, and that has
healed some of the deepest wounds, I know there isn’t a chance any of this will
ever magically be erased from our memories. I hope that as we work through
this, we find ways to correct what we’ve done, to somehow make it right.

All of this is the reason I need Samantha to know the truth. I
can’t have her carrying the burden of hate and guilt that I imagine she feels.
I can’t have her life ruined by this, or have her think it was somehow her
fault. And even if it doesn’t work, even if she won’t hear me or can’t find it
in her heart to understand, I will at least have made the attempt.

It’s raining when we wake the next morning; relentless and
pounding as it hits the windows, the room shrouded in darkness despite it being
well after eight o’clock. Benji stirs next to me, his sleep has been utterly
soundless and peaceful since we’ve begun to repair all this damage.

He confessed to me early on that he didn’t sleep, sometimes
spending countless hours working well into the night just to avoid it. I know
the feeling, but now I’ve found myself falling asleep easily without the use of
alcohol and sleeping without waking multiple times. A dreamless sleep,
something I never thought I’d find again.

I’m staring up at the ceiling when Benji rolls over and slings
his arm across my stomach, letting his fingers run over my skin. Shivering from
his touch, he pulls me into his body and I let out a sigh as I feel myself begin
to relax against him. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t forget what needs
to be done today. I shift in his arms, trying to relax completely.

“What’s wrong?” Benji asks, pulling back slightly. I don’t mean
for him to think I’m shying away from him or that his touch has upset me, but
that’s exactly how it comes across.

“Sorry,” I immediately apologize as I move closer to him. “We
haven’t really talked about Tommy’s wife.”

“Well, you told me she hates you, which I still don’t believe.”
Benji shakes his head a little and just as I’m about to argue with him, he
continues. “I told you before, she needs someone to blame. Maybe she’s in a
better place now?”

“She showed up at my office,” I say, realizing I’ve told him
none of this. The memory of it has me as rattled as the day it happened. I was
on the verge of falling apart at that point and her appearance practically
pushed me over the edge.

For years I had devoted so much time and energy into keeping up
a front, not allowing anyone in to see what I was hiding and one visit from
Samantha turned that all to shit. The façade I had in place crumbled, and what
I tried to hide was now revealed to everyone.

I remember calling after her in the lobby of the office building
where I work, my voice loud, yet still shaky and weak as I practically chased
her down. I couldn’t remember the last time I cried in public, but that day it
was nearly impossible to act like I wasn’t.

I take a deep breath. Benji has made this easier on me, but
there are still things I’m not proud of. One of them being the fact that I
basically stalked Samantha.

“I was so upset already. It was the day after the anniversary of
the accident when she showed up and I was trying so hard to hold it together.
But as soon as she told me who she was, I fell apart.” I feel Benji’s arms hold
me tighter, encouraging me to go on. “She was so spiteful. She thinks Tommy was
in love with me. She thinks that’s why he killed himself.”

“You can see how she would feel that way,” Benji rationalizes,
but it only upsets me more.

“It wasn’t like that,” I immediately defend, even though I know
Benji knows that. I can feel angry tears sting my eyes and my throat begins to
burn as I try to control myself.

“I feel guilty enough,” I say, letting out a small sob with it.
“I’m the reason he did this, Benji. I know that. But it’s not for the reason
Samantha thinks.”

“What are you talking about?” Benji says, his voice firm, almost
angry. “No, Campbell. You will not blame yourself for this. Tommy made a very
selfish choice, something we will probably never understand, but it is not your
fault.”

I want to move away from him. I hate the feeling of vulnerability
that has taken control of my body. I can’t hold still and Benji won’t let go of
me.

“Campbell,” he says, and I close my eyes as the tears fall hard
and fast. “Look at me,” he insists. “I wasn’t trying to say this was your
fault. I’m sorry I said I could understand why Samantha would feel that way. It
was wrong and now I’ve upset you.”

“I went to her house,” I admit, letting it all out now. “I
needed answers and I wanted to tell her what happened, but I couldn’t. She was
so angry with me and I didn’t even know what to say.”

I’m crying and Benji runs his hand down my back trying to calm
me. I sit up so I’m now looking at him, and he does the same. He brushes the
tears off my cheeks as I watch him take a hard breath.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “But you can’t blame yourself for
this, Campbell. You can’t blame yourself for any of it.”

“I think a part of me always will,” I whisper. “If I had just
found him. If I had tried harder…”

“No…” Benji cuts me off as he shakes his head. “If we’re placing
blame, Campbell, then we’re all to blame. We all made a poor choice. We were
just kids and while that’s not an excuse, it is what it is. Of course we
could’ve done things differently, but that’s why we’re doing what we’re doing
now. We can only go forward from here.”

I nod, although the guilt still pools heavy in my stomach and I
finally admit to Benji part of the reason I ended up finding him. “I was afraid
I was going to lose you too,” I blurt out, as I find myself crawling into his
lap and burying my face in his neck. “I came to find you because I couldn’t
bear to lose you, too.”

“You never would’ve lost me, Campbell. I’ve always been yours
and you will always be my light.”

Several hours later, we’re parked in front of Samantha’s house
and as much as I know this is something we need to do, I can’t make myself get
out of the car.

Benji looks over at me, his expression full of sympathy for what
I’m feeling at the moment as he says, “I can do the talking. It’ll be okay.” He
runs his thumb along my knuckles, our hands locked together. They’ve been this way
since we left the house. There’s an energy I can feel between our connected
hands, a nervousness we both share.

“I need to. I can’t live with her not knowing the truth,” I tell
him, but even my words don’t sound like my own and nothing about them makes me
move forward.

“I know,” he says, as he lets go of my hand and exits the car.

I’m not ready, but it doesn’t matter and I follow his lead. I
feel like my body isn’t my own, following Benji up the walk and to the front door
as I’m hit with déjà vu. Standing in this very spot just a few weeks ago, I was
begging Samantha to talk to me, but unable to give her the answers she needed. I’m
hoping today is different.

Benji’s hand is shaking as he lifts it to ring the bell. Just
that small action shows me he’s as nervous as I am. Throughout all this, he’s
remained calm and steadfast; he’s been my rock, but I can see it’s all
beginning to wear on him. I don’t want him to fall apart too, and I know he
will if this keeps up. I’m glad to know that after today we can start to figure
out what a normal life will look and feel like. We’ll be done with all of this
and we can finally move on…I hope.

We waited until the late afternoon in hopes that Samantha would
be home from work; that is if she even works. I don’t know anything about her
and Tommy’s life together. And before I can give it anymore thought, the door
opens.

Samantha’s mouth literally drops open like I’m the last person
she thought she’d see standing on her porch. Instantly, she’s defensive,
crossing her arms over her chest, her mouth now set in a firm line.

“I told you not to come back here,” she hisses, and Benji takes
a step back, but I don’t move. I’ve been here before and while I don’t know her
well, I do know she’s not going to do anything rash. As much as she wants to
hate me, she knows I’m the only one who has answers for her.

I saw it when I was here the first time. She wanted to unload
everything on me, but something made her hold back. Whether it was fear or
hatred or anger or just plain obstinacy, she will eventually give in.
 
 

“Samantha, please,” I say, remaining as calm as possible. “This
is Benji Kennedy.” My eyes flicking over to where Benji is standing. “We grew
up with Tommy and we’d like just a few minutes to talk to you. Maybe help you
understand everything that’s happened.”

She lets out an irritated sigh, and I can’t tell if it’s because
she’s contemplating hearing me out or if she’s ready to tell me to fuck off.
But before she can respond, the door is pushed open and Thomas is standing next
to her.

Without giving it a second thought, she turns to him and in a
sweet voice says, “Baby, go upstairs, please.”

Thomas looks up at her and then at Benji and me standing on the
porch. He smiles at me and waves a little and I can’t help but smile back at
him, completely enamored with how much he resembles Tommy. His beautiful brown
eyes and his shy smile, his eyes so telling of what a wonderful person he will
become. I saw it in Tommy and I can see it in Thomas. More than anything,
Thomas is why I’m here now. I want him to grow up and not see the mistakes his
father made, but see the wonderful man he was.

“I know you,” Thomas says, as he points to me and I almost
respond in agreement since we met at the funeral, but he then points to Benji
too.

I’m certain the look on all our faces says we’re shocked and I
watch Samantha squat down in front of him, her hands on his arms. “Thomas, you
don’t know them,” she says, softly as if to remind him he’s wrong.

“I do, Mommy,” he says and wiggles out of her loose hold before
scampering upstairs.

Samantha runs a hand through her hair and again lets out a sigh,
but this time I can tell she’s exhausted, this whole thing is taking a toll on
her life, her family and her.

“I’m sorry,” she says, but her voice conveys she’s anything but
sorry. It’s just an apology to fill the space. “I really can’t do this.” She
shakes her head and just as she’s about to the close the door, Thomas returns
and he’s holding something.

“Look, Mommy,” he says, flashing what appears to be a piece of
paper at her. It’s clutched in his hand, the paper is wrinkled and tattered and
as I look more closely, I notice it’s a photograph.

I step forward, but Samantha holds up her hand as if to tell me
not to step any closer. She again kneels down in front of Thomas and takes the
picture from his hand. Looking at it, she turns it over and reads what’s
written on the back.