The Nothingness of Ben (8 page)

“Really?” Ben interrupted. “On Christmas morning?”

“Just like any other day of the year,” said Quentin. “You know what Dad used to say.”

“Don’t start quoting my father to me.”

“He was my father too.”

“What did he used to say?” asked Travis as he measured flour, milk, and eggs into a bowl.

Ben and Quentin remained silent, so Jason spoke up.

“As long as everyone’s alive, we’re doing just fine.”

An awkward silence fell over the kitchen. Jason looked around and realized what he had said.

“Jesus,” said Quentin, “let’s not get all morose every time someone mentions death.”

“He wasn’t talking about himself,” Ben explained to Travis. “He was referring to Cain and Abel, the first brothers. Dad always expected four boys to fight. In fact, he kind of encouraged it. As long as we didn’t spill any blood, he gave us a long leash when it came to how we talked to each other.”

“No one would ever guess,” Travis muttered under his breath.

“That’s all I’m saying,” said Quentin. “No use acting all Disney Channel just because it’s Christmas.”

“Speaking of which,” Ben said, “let’s move on and exchange some gifts.”

A
LTHOUGH
left unspoken, the Walsh brothers observed the absence of their parents with a casual air, as if they had gone out of town for a long weekend, leaving the boys to fend for themselves. A few more days and they’d return. Then everything would go back to normal, except the Walsh brothers understood that would never happen.

The next few days passed in something of a fog. The boys came to a stop with an emotional thud. Travis produced meals at regular intervals, and they watched movies continually in the living room. On Monday, Travis went back to work but returned for dinner, and their routine continued unabated. Some nights Travis crossed the street to Mrs. Wright’s house, but mostly he crashed in the guest room if it got too late. The five of them said little to each other. They would occasionally discuss the better films or become overly invested in a particular character. They huddled together in the warm house, absorbing one story after another, mourning.

They slept. They ate. They watched movies.

And they did this for days.

“
Y
OU
should invite Trisha over for dinner.”

Ben suggested this to Travis one night in the kitchen as Travis stripped meat off a chicken carcass.

“She’d probably like that.”

“Tomorrow night’s New Year’s Eve. What do you think?”

“I think she’s planning a trip down to
Sixth Street. For the two of us, I mean. With some friends of hers.”

“Sounds perfect. We can have dinner at eight, and then you two can head downtown around eleven.”

Travis hesitated, taking a deep breath through his nose. “I don’t want to set up any expectations.” Travis lowered his voice. “In her head, you know?”

“She’s been here before, right? I mean, my mom and dad certainly invited her over.”

“Yeah. I mean, no… yes, she met them once. And your daddy had been pestering me to bring her over for dinner.”

“And you were able to put him off all this time?”

“Yep.”

“Impressive. But you’re making a mountain out of a molehill. Really. It’s dinner, not a marriage proposal. Invite her, already.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll call her.”

Instead of a movie that night, Travis taught them some basic sign language and then the English alphabet. “Sign it if you can,” he explained, “spell it if you can’t, and if all else fails, write it down. It takes longer to say stuff, but that’ll frustrate her more than you.”

“Great,” said Ben, not enthusiastic about the clumsiness with which his hands moved. “But you were interpreting for me when I met her last week. Why can’t you do that again?”

“Because I can’t interpret a conversation with six people.”

“I suck at this,” Ben said in surrender. “I look like an idiot.”

“Finally,” Quentin agreed.

S
INCE
Travis was making dinner and couldn’t pick her up, Trisha arrived at the Walsh house on Wednesday evening, a few minutes after eight. Ben had been practicing his greeting all day. He opened the door and smiled.

“Good evening,” he signed. “Travis is in the kitchen. Come into the living room and meet my brothers.”

Trisha forced a polite look onto her face. Either she found his level of effort below average or she didn’t like him very much.

“Thank you.” Ben knew he got that part right. She signed something else which he translated as, “I’ve heard so much about them.”

He introduced her to Quentin, Jason, and Cade. They immediately started signing all at once, so Trisha sat down and put her hands on theirs to quiet them.

“One at a time,” she signed.

Ben excused himself and headed into the kitchen to check on Travis.

“You should come say hi to your girlfriend.”

“I’m fixin’ to put the dumplings in just as soon as this comes to a boil. I’ll be out then.”

“Smells great, by the way.”

“My grannie’s chicken and dumplings recipe. I ain’t never seen no one else attempt it, but since I’m the last of the Atwoods, I don’t reckon it much matters.”

“What are we having with it?”

“Nothing. We’re talking white trash cooking here, Ben Jovi. There ain’t no salad or side vegetable. The dumplings stretch the meal so that one chicken feeds six people. Everything you need is in the pot. Except peas. I don’t much like peas, so I leave ’em out.”

“White trash cooking, eh?”

Travis grinned wide and flashed his red eyebrows.

“Welcome to my trailer park, Hotshot.”

They muddled through dinner as best they could. Since Ben adamantly refused to sit at the head of the table, the Walsh boys sat in their customary configuration: Quentin and Cade on one side, Ben and Jason on the other. Travis sat at the one end between Quentin and Ben. Trisha sat at the other, facing him. Everyone tried to sign everything they said, but that produced a slow and difficult conversation. At one point, Ben tried to stretch his legs out under the table. He looked over at Travis and their eyes locked.

That’s when he felt it.

For the past week and a half, whenever they bothered to sit at the table for a meal, Travis had sat at the other end, between Jason and Cade. Now, Ben could feel Travis’s knee resting against his own. He wasn’t rubbing it or anything obvious, just resting it there. Travis turned his gaze away from Ben and watched Cade attempt to spell something for Trisha, seemingly oblivious to Ben’s concerns. If they were alone, Ben would definitely speak up. But they weren’t alone, and Ben didn’t pull his knee away. He kept it there for Travis to lean against.

At about ten thirty, Trisha signaled that they should be going. Everyone said good night as they headed down the front steps and out toward Travis’s pickup. After they left, an eerie silence settled over the house. As his brothers each went to their rooms, Ben ducked into the kitchen to clean up.

About an hour later, after he had finished with the dishes and moved to the living room, Ben heard a knock on the door. When he opened it, Travis stood there, frowning.

“What are you doing here?”

Travis didn’t speak.

“Oh, shit. Come on in.”

Travis followed Ben into the living room and plopped down on one of the sofas. Ben stretched out on the other, propping himself up on his elbow.

“What happened?”

“She told me that if I didn’t want to go out, I should have said so.”

“But you did want to go out.”

“Nu-uh, I didn’t.”

Ben looked at him, surprised.

“Oh. Then she’s probably right. She’ll get over it.”

“I don’t think so.”

It took a second for Ben to realize what that meant.

“Wait a minute. She broke up with you?”

“Something like that.”

“Seems a little extreme, don’t you think?”

“She told me she felt like you and me were on a date tonight. Instead of me and her. That’s when I… she said it ain’t working out and maybe we should see other people for a spell.”

“You and me? On a date?”

“Is that a crazy idea?”

The suggestion disquieted Ben, but he decided to ignore it. He pulled out his phone and looked at the time.

“Four minutes ’til midnight.”

“Well, ain’t we a sorry pair of pups?” Travis exclaimed, talking a little louder than he probably intended. “Two good-looking guys sitting at home on New Year’s Eve with no one to kiss but each other.”

Ben sat up. Now he had to say something.

“What’s going on with you tonight?”

“What do you mean?”

“‘No one to kiss but each other’? You do remember I’m gay, don’t you?”

“It was a joke.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t come on to me like a clumsy teenager and then call it a joke.”

“Come on to you?”

“Yes. I mean, really, what was that stuff under the table tonight?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Tonight. At dinner. You were resting your knee against mine.”

Travis paused as his face turned red. “You’re crazy,” he said softly. “I may have knocked against you, but it’s a small goddamned table.”

“Bullshit. You had your knee against mine. I could feel it.”

Travis sat up with a huff.

“You should talk.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t think I forgot about your little hint the other night.”

“What are you talking about?”

“‘Every straight fella should take a hike down the gay Appalachian Trail.’ Christ, Ben, why didn’t you just volunteer?”

Ben felt the sting of embarrassment slap him in the face. “Okay, fair enough. But me being stoned and gay explains my bad behavior. What’s your excuse?” Travis didn’t answer and Ben pressed on. “Are you attracted to me?”

“I suppose that depends on how you define
attracted
.”

“What’s wrong with you? Are you drunk?”

“I had one shot.”

“Then answer my question.”

“I just said you’re a good-looking guy.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I know it’s not what you asked. But chill out. Seriously. There ain’t nothing going on here, period. I didn’t come back so I could kiss you at midnight, Ben. Give me a fucking break. My girl just broke up with me thirty minutes ago, so excuse me if I crack a few bad jokes. And if I bumped your knee at dinner….”

“It was more than a bump.”

“What the fuck ever. Excuse me for that too. I wasn’t trying to give you a boner, for Christ’s sake. Do you got to make a fucking federal case out of something like that? Geez Louise, you faggots are all alike.”

Ben rolled his head back and sighed. Travis stiffened up, knowing full well that he had crossed a line.

“I’m sorry, Ben. I don’t know what’s going on here….”

“Well, I suppose that’s just the redneck in you coming out. Travis, I have no other choice but to ask you to leave.”

“I said I was sorry. I don’t know why I….”

“Stop, it’s okay. My skin isn’t that thin, and I don’t think you’re a bad person who hates gay people. But you should sleep at your place tonight. Come back tomorrow and we’ll pretend this whole conversation never happened.”

“I can’t crash in the guest room?”

Ben shook his head.

“No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Travis paused, like he was wondering what he should do. Finally, he stood up and clapped his hands together. “I reckon I’ll be going, then. Happy New Year.”

Ben didn’t get up. “Happy New Year,” he grumbled. “Lord knows, it’s got to be better than the last one.”

“I hope so,” Travis said. He turned toward the front door and then stopped. “I’m sorry, Ben. Really.” When Ben didn’t respond, Travis continued out the door, down the porch steps, and across the street to Mrs. Wright’s house.

As he lay in bed that night, Ben thought he felt something he hadn’t felt in years.
This can’t be happening
, he told himself. He covered his head with a pillow and tried to wish it away, until the same eerie silence settled over the Walsh house again and Ben reluctantly fell asleep.

Chapter 7

W
HEN
he woke up the next morning, Ben decided to call Colin.

“Finally. Your parents get killed in a car accident and I do not hear from you for two weeks. Unacceptable, Walsh.”

“Happy New Year to you too.”

No response.

“I’ve been texting you,” added Ben.

“Not the same thing.”

“How long are you going to be upset with me? Don’t be a prick and make this all about you.”

Silence.

“Okay,” Colin finally said, the anger draining from his voice. “You’re right. How are you doing?”

“Where do I even begin?”

“Did you get custody of your brothers?”

“Yes.”

“Brilliant. So what’s next?”

“What do you mean what’s next? New York is over. I’m moving back to Austin to take care of them.”

“What are you talking about? New York is never over.”

“Well, it is for me. I don’t have options, Colin. They’ll split them up if I don’t come back.”