Dreaming August

by Terri-Lynne Defino

  Benny’s cheeks burned. She pressed the cold glass to them.

  “Dan, I have…I have something to tell you.”

  Dan set his wineglass down, took her lemonade from her and did the same. Turning sideways on the couch, he took her hands in his. “What’s wrong? Tell me.”

  “Nothing’s wrong. I just… I need to go to the bathroom.”

  Benny made a dash for the bathroom. Her head lightened and her lips buzzed. She sat on the toilet lid, head in her hands. “Dan has been here a million times,” she told herself. “He’s eaten at my table, watched football on my couch.”

  But he’d never slept in her bed. The bed she shared with Henny.

  Benny slammed to her feet, looked herself squarely in the mirror. “Stop it,” she growled. Softly. “Do you hear me? You just made love to him on his mother’s grave and sleeping in the same bed with him here is bothering you? You’re an idiot, Benedetta Marie Grady. You’ve already wasted too much time. You love him. He loves you. Now get out there and tell him you made a baby together.”

  She splashed water on her face, toweled off. Catching sight of her smug expression in the mirror, Benny chuckled softly, secretly. A loud bang cut it short. She cocked her head. “Dan? You okay out there?”

  No answer. She flew out of the bathroom. “Dan?”

  No Dan. Only an empty apartment. Outside, his truck sputtered to life. Benny flew to the door and onto the top landing in time to see him pull away, his tires spitting gravel.

  “What the hell?”

  Benny stumbled back into her apartment, looked stupidly around. Her lemonade sat dripping condensation onto her stained coffee table, but Dan’s glass was gone. She found it in the kitchen. On the counter. Beside the ultrasound picture no longer pinned to her refrigerator door.

  Chapter 18

  Wildly Through The Woods

  He didn’t remember driving home. Dan only hoped he hadn’t careened through the streets of Bitterly the way his thoughts were careening through his head. Flashed images of Benny, the fireworks, and the grainy image of what he knew to be an ultrasound picture danced like sparkles behind his eyes. His truck chewed gravel going up the driveway, stopped abruptly at the top. Dan slammed it into park, rested his head to the steering wheel, and tried to calm down.

  A baby.

  Was it his? Or had she not told him because it wasn’t? Did he care? Maybe it was Henny’s, a baby beyond the grave by way of sperm-kept-on-ice. It certainly wasn’t a sibling. Peadar and Clarice Grady were way beyond their childbearing years. Peter’s? A neighbor’s? Anyone’s besides Benny’s? His better sense tried to reason with him, but irrational thoughts pushed them back.

  Instead of bounding up the front steps, he headed to the entrance around back. Dan took the steps two at a time. The open door and bright lights showed Evelyn, at least, was home. He selfishly hoped the kids weren’t. He needed to talk to his sister, to talk this out, to somehow make sense of the craziness whirring in his head. Passing through the kitchen, into the mudroom, he was stopped short by the voices coming from the family room beyond.

  “…school where you’ll go is really nice.”

  Paul’s voice. Dan’s stomach clenched.

  “But what about my friends?” Mabel whined. “Daddy, can’t you just move back here?”

  “No,” Evelyn said. “No, sweetie. We need a fresh start, away from Bitterly. You’ll make new friends in Colorado.”

  “Can I learn how to snowboard?” Joss asked and Paul laughed—a sound Dan couldn’t remember ever sounding real before. His scalp prickled, but he slipped quietly closer to the doorway, peered from the shadow of the mudroom, unseen. Paul sat on the floor, Joss between his legs and his arm around Mabel’s shoulders. The man had changed, physically, at least. The marine-buzz haircut was now skater-dude shaggy. Gone was the power-suit and tie he once lived in and instead he wore jeans with holes in the knee, and some kind of graphic t-shirt.

  “I’ll teach you myself.” Paul kissed his son’s equally shaggy head. “I know it’s a big change, and it feels like this is all coming out of nowhere, but your mom and I have been talking for a while…”

  Dan backed slowly away, back into the kitchen, back outside. Betrayed. Twice in one night. By the only two women he loved, had loved, besides his mother. Ever. In the yard he built himself from stone to plant, Dan breathed deeply, slowly. Not even the Casablanca lilies’ scent soothed. He tried to be happy for his sister, for his niece and nephew, and even for Paul. He really tried. Maybe if he hadn’t found an ultrasound picture on Benny’s refrigerator, he might have been.

  Maybe if he had stuck around for an explanation.

  There was no room for the small, rational voice inside his head. Seeing the picture on Benny’s fridge had let loose those demons still too close for comfort. They dredged up the dazed, hurt, humiliated little boy on the ground, looking up at the man who had always been his hero. It gave him the teenager stepping between his parents, taking the smack that would have knocked his mother out, bearing the brunt of all his father’s fury aimed at her for being whole and beautiful when he was ruined.

  Dan needed to do something, something physical. Build a wall. Dig a hole. Mow a lawn. He slammed open the door of his detached garage, stood in the doorway looking for something, anything that would make him sweat. Not a project in sight. Dan was way too good at keeping up on things, and now it bit him in the ass.

  And then he remembered.

  He grabbed a shovel from the pegs. If Evelyn was moving to Colorado, this house would become his. He could do what he wanted, and right now, he wanted—needed—to sink that scrap of cement into the dirt under the grape arbor, put those kids’ handprints where they belonged.

  He struggled the heavy slab out of the garage. It fell on his toes once, twice. Dan gritted his teeth and struggled on. He slid it along the ground, scratching up the smooth concrete floor. Good. Something else to fix when he was done. He’d sink the slab and then mix up some patch. He’d stay out all night fixing things until the demons were quiet and his thoughts tamed.

  But Benny…she had to be thinking he was angry, for the way he’d blown out of her apartment.

  Benny. Benedetta Marie Grady. The sound of her name inside his head echoed, shoved back at the past trying to bury him. Slumped against the garage wall, the slab of concrete resting against his legs, Dan wiped the sweat from his brow. He breathed in deeply. Exhaled long. It brought back more memories, this forced calm. Memories of the aftermath of black eyes and bruises. His mother’s. His own. Dan vowed then he would fight his own impulse to lash out, to lose control. No matter how many times he wanted to punch his father back, Dan never did. Not once. He would not become what he hated most. Not then. And not now.

  His racing heart slowed. The night’s cool dried the sweat on his skin. Benny’s name stopped echoing and instead whispered from his lips.

  “Benny. A baby. My baby. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Truth and calm and old vows upheld gave way to understanding. She had been about to tell him. As if she sat beside him speaking now, he heard her words. Dan, I have something to tell you. She’d been nervous, not afraid, and fighting her own pack of demons. Already those moments between getting up to refill his wineglass, seeing the picture stuck to the fridge and this moment, regaining his composure with a slab of concrete pressed up against his knees was blurring.

  It had to have happened on Valentine’s Day, until today, the only time they’d been together. He counted on his fingers. Almost five months. Dan’s whole body shuddered. His baby was more than half-cooked. He’d already missed so much, but he would miss no more. Today was one of the best days of his life. Benny had invited him back to her apartment to tell him he was going to be a father, not to make love. Again. Though that would have happened too.

  A door slammed inside the house. The lights were still on in the family room, but so too was the bathroom light upstairs. Joss. It had to be. He’d never m
et a door he wouldn’t slam. Dan chuckled softly. It wouldn’t be long before this house was silent, and his. Maybe Benny’s too. He checked his watch. Would she be asleep? The weight of the way he bolted on her threatened, but Dan pressed back. It wasn’t too late. He’d buy her flowers, beg her forgiveness, and she would give it.

  But it was too late for flowers, even if he could find anything open on the Fourth of July. He stood up, brushing concrete dust from his jeans, and a better idea burst brilliant.

  It would take longer than flowers, but Benny’s happiness when she found out would be worth it. He hefted the slab and slid it carefully into the bed of his truck, fetched his shovel, and headed back toward town.

  Chapter 19

  Her Darker Moods

  Benny knew better than to push. Pushing someone who wasn’t ready to yield only resulted in getting pushed back. She had not anticipated Dan freaking out about the baby. Not one of the myriad of scenarios in her head had played out that way. But he had, and it did. Her absolute certainty about his expected happiness wavered through the night, and was obliterated by dawn.

  She left before her parents were up, headed out to Savvy’s first thing. Maybe she would accidentally-on-purpose run into Dan helping put the farm back together, but there was only Edgardo and Raul and the groggy high school students who worked Savvy’s through the summer. Not even Savannah was there, and Benny remembered: though July 4th was the busiest day of the Bitterly year, July 5th was the one day her boss closed herself away from the world, unreachable as the moon and stars.

  Edgardo and Raul shooed Benny off with words she didn’t understand even if their meaning was clear. She got back onto her scooter, and headed for Division Street, telling herself she was just going to pass by and make sure he was safe at home.

  Dan’s truck wasn’t in the driveway. Neither was it parked anywhere in town, or at Charlie and Johanna’s out on County Line Road. As always when most in the need of comfort, she went to the cemetery.

  Benny pulled up to the shade tree she always parked beneath, but she didn’t get off her scooter. Closing her eyes and listening hard, she wished and wished and wished, but there was no answering whisper. No spectral fingers tickling down her back. No squeeze. Abandoned again. First Henny, then Augie, now Dan. The how didn’t matter. In the end, Benny was just as alone.

  A sob welled up from so deep inside, she almost felt as if she would vomit. For the first time in too many years, she wanted her mother. Suddenly and acutely. She kicked the scooter back to life, and Benny did the unthinkable—she went the wrong way down the one-way cemetery road, zipped through the gates and barely stopped at the stop sign on the Green.

  “Ma!” She raced up the steps and plunged into the kitchen, startling Clarice Grady from her coffee. “Oh, good. You’re here. Let’s go to Brooklyn today.”

  “Benny, my goodness.” Clarice patted her chest. “What has gotten into you? Your scooter wasn’t here this morning. I assumed you spent the night with…”

  “No, I was here. I just left early to see if Savvy needed help. She doesn’t, so I thought we could go into Brooklyn today instead of tomorrow. This way I won’t have to take the day off work because I realized after the big picnic, Savvy would probably rather I not—”

  “Benedetta, take a breath.” Her mother cocked her head. “Did something go wrong with Daniel? You seemed absolutely giddy yesterday.”

  “I was. I am.” Benny’s laughter shook unconvincingly. “We had an amazing time together. I’m going to see him. Soon. He’s busy today. I just want to go to Brooklyn, Ma. Can’t we just go? You going to make me beg?”

  A moment. Two that seemed an eternity. Benny’s whole body trembled, and she hoped it was only on the inside.

  “Of course we can, sweetheart. Give me half an hour to get dressed.” Clarice pushed away from the table. She ran a hand along the tangle of Benny’s hair, kissed her temple. “It’s a good thing there are plenty of meatballs left for your father to eat today.”

  “Daddy can take care of himself,” Benny mumbled.

  “Oh, dear.” Clarice Grady patted her daughter’s head. “Whatever gave you that impression? I’ll be down shortly. Have some breakfast while you wait.”

  Benny made toast and forced herself to eat it, and a cup of tea. True to her word, Clarice was ready and in the car within half an hour. She was not, however, in the driver’s seat.

  “What gives, Ma?”

  “You drive.” Her mother dangled the keys. “I’ll take over when we get closer to the city. Brooklyn can be confusing, even for someone born and raised there.”

  “Then why don’t you just drive?”

  Clarice jiggled the keys. “Because it’s time you drove further than the mall.”

  “I’ve driven further than the mall.”

  “When?”

  Benny grimaced, grabbed the keys, and slid behind the wheel. Clarice made no more comment, but grinned in Benny’s periphery, like a cat who got the cream.

  * * * *

  The drive was easy, mostly country highways designated scenic by all the travel guides. Switching from those rural highways to the interstates jittered Benny’s belly. The trucks were so loud and careless drivers weaved in and out at speeds she had never driven. When had the speed limit gone up to sixty-five? Benny didn’t give up the wheel when her mother suggested it, but she did opt for the cars-only-fifty-five-mph Saw Mill Parkway when given the chance.

  After they stopped in a fast food place to get a soda and use the bathroom, Clarice took the wheel. “You did great, honey.”

  “Thanks,” Benny said. “I should probably do things like this more often, huh?”

  Clarice checked her mirrors. “You’re waking up after a long sleep, Benny. Give yourself a break.”

  Tears threatened, but didn’t fall. It was true. As her mother pulled into traffic, Benny thought back on the last six years of her life—her life after Henny. What did she remember about it? Until this past February, and Dan, not much. Since then, her life seemed a constant barrage of emotions and events whirring constantly in her head. Yes, she was waking up after too long a sleep. It was scary and sort of sad, but how exciting it was, too. She reached for her mother’s hand, squeezed it gently. “Thanks for doing this with me today, Ma.”

  Clarice smiled. “My pleasure, sweetheart. I love spending time with you, and I’m happy to be going back to the old neighborhood, especially after losing the blue ribbon to Ginny Gordon. She’s not even a little bit Italian. And did you taste those meatballs? Way too much oregano…”

  Clarice chattered on about the big town picnic. Despite losing the blue ribbon, she’d had a marvelous time. Had Benny? She found herself telling her mother about the day spent with Dan, even about kissing on the Ferris wheel. Her mother knew just how to coax information out of her. She’d been doing it all of Benny’s life. But it felt good. It felt familiar and loving. She kept imagining herself interjecting, “The food concessions were really spectacular this year. I especially loved the pulled pork. And, by the way, I’m having a baby in November and Dan’s the father, but he freaked when he found out and now I have no idea what to do.”

  A dozen times, a dozen ways, but Benny couldn’t manage to get out of her own head.

  “The fireworks were a wonderful, weren’t they?” Clarice asked.

  Dan, the cemetery, the blanket and the boom that had little to do with pyrotechnics flashed through Benny’s body, heating her from within. “They were amazing” she managed to say. “Really, really amazing.”

  “I didn’t see you at the field.”

  “Dan and I watched from the cemetery. He does it every year.”

  “Oh, yes.” Clarice sobered. “Of course he does, that darling boy.”

  “He’s a man now, Ma.”

  Clarice smiled. “He will always be a boy to me, no matter how old he gets.” And she sobered again. “It was a terrible day, that Fourth of July. One of the worst in my life. I let
myself forget, after all these years.”

  “You and Daddy were pretty good friends with the Greenes, right?”

  “Miranda was my very best friend,” Clarice said, a catch in her voice. “We had the same middle name. We thought it was grand, and that it bound us in a special way. I loved her like a sister. It broke me when she died, for a long time.”

  “I don’t remember you ever being broken.”

  “You were a teenager, and I covered it well.”

  “What about Mr. Greene?” Benny hedged. “Were he and Daddy friends?”

  “They were, for a time.” Clarice hesitated. “How much has Daniel told you about his parents?”

  “That his dad was a drunk, and I got the idea he knocked Dan and his mother around.”

  “In the early days, Danny was a good man. He and Miranda were happy, like Daddy and me, and Charlie’s parents and Henny’s. We were all friends. Good friends. It was the Camelot of my life, back then, when we were all young and always together and our children were babies.” Clarice sighed softly. “Danny fell off a roof when the boys were, oh, I believe they were four. Maybe five. I do know it was before kindergarten. He couldn’t work. He started drinking. He turned mean. I wouldn’t let Tim go play over there after a while, but Dan, your Dan, was always welcome in our home. It broke my heart, first time I saw Miranda with a black eye, and nearly killed me when I saw one on Dan.”

  “Why didn’t you report him?”

  “I’m ashamed of this answer,” Clarice said, dabbing under her eyelashes with a tissue, “but back then, it’s not something one did. If Miranda would have left him, I’d have moved heaven and earth to help her. But she wouldn’t. She just wouldn’t.”

  “I’m sorry, Ma. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  “Oh, Benny, I cry about Miranda now and then without your help. I will tell you a secret if you promise not to get angry with me.”

  “How can I promise when I have no idea what you’re about to say? I’ll try. How’s that?”