Chaos and Control

by Season Vining

  “First, I want to apologize. Saying I’m sorry is the best I can do. I mean it. I’m sorry for keeping Bennie’s condition from you. She is your sister, and you had a right to know.”

  “You’re right.”

  “But she did ask me to keep it from you. It wasn’t my news to tell. I owe her so much for the life she’s given me here, Wren. Bennie is my boss and my friend.”

  “And what was I?”

  His gray eyes hold mine, a tangible tension between us.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.” A crackling voice comes over the speakers, and I look up to find a young girl at the mic. “We’re glad to have you here. All five of you. We’re starting our poetry night off with a new voice. So, show Preston some love. Get up here, you big lug.”

  I gasp as he abandons our conversation and makes his way to the mic with heavy, calculated steps. His breathing is quick. Preston’s hands wring together before he slides them deep into the pockets of his jeans. His shoulders are high, a muscle in his jaw tightens, and he is only looking at me.

  “A sickness that kills quietly

  A secret that burns my tongue

  An introduction and she

  Commands my universe

  I try to keep my distance

  But it is futile

  Like sailors follow stars

  I am led by her light

  She quiets razor sharp

  Worries and dulls my fears

  With teeth over a bottom lip

  A pretty word and talk of baseball

  She is flawless in her passion

  Imperfect in her love

  She made me a better man

  And even though we are apart

  She makes me better still”

  Scattered applause startles me out of my daze as tears fill my eyes. I try to blink them away to clear my vision. Preston’s terrified and honest expression, his begging words and confessions, leave me reeling. I want to wrap myself around him and thank him for this gift, this brave show. I can’t imagine the strength it took to stand up there and make himself so vulnerable.

  All Preston’s words, as perfect as they are, don’t make our lives any less complicated, though. I still have a violent ex harassing me, I still feel so betrayed by Preston, and my sister is still wasting away before my eyes.

  I jump up from our table and stumble over my chair. My eyes focus on the door, and all I can think about is my escape. People move by me in a blur. I hear Preston’s deep and somber voice call my name, but I keep moving. Outside, the night air welcomes me. I hurry across the parking lot and start the walk back to Bennie’s.

  Swiping the tears from my face, I clean my mascara-smudged fingers off on the skirt of my black dress. I focus on getting back to the apartment, putting one shaky foot in front of the other. At first the shoes don’t bother me. My walk is fueled by my need to fall apart behind closed doors. A few minutes in, I feel a blister forming on my heel and try to compensate for the discomfort.

  I hear Preston’s truck rumbling toward me and close my eyes. The brat in me wants to kick out of these damn shoes and take off running. But I don’t. Instead, I take a deep breath and exhale through my nose.

  “Wren, get in,” he says softly, as if easing a child out of hiding.

  “No, thanks. I’ll walk.” I continue down the road.

  “Come on, Wren. I know those shoes are killing you. Please.”

  I stop walking and look at him through the window. “I can’t, Preston. I can’t deal with this…with any of this.” Fresh tears paint my cheeks, and I wipe them away angrily.

  “We don’t have to talk. Just let me take you home.”

  Standing there, his pleading eyes on me, I give in and climb into the truck. He nods and takes off without another word. When we pull up behind the store, Preston cuts off the headlights and we are sitting in the dark.

  “Well, that didn’t go how I’d planned,” Preston says.

  I lean my forehead against the cool window and speak without facing him. “Thank you for sharing your beautiful words with me. I know that took so much courage. Believe me when I say that I want to forget everything and crawl into your arms. I want you to hold me and tell me that everything is going to be fine. But that isn’t reality.”

  I turn to face him now. Preston’s fingers trace the lines stitched into the seat between us. He doesn’t look up.

  “It could be.”

  “No, Preston. It can’t. Bennie is dying. She’ll be gone soon, and everything will not be fine. When I came back to Crowley, I never imagined I would find someone like you here—someone to challenge me and unravel me. I never imagined I’d want anyone the way I want you. But I never imagined being hurt so much, either. You and Bennie and this secret? It just about destroyed me.”

  “I told you…”

  “I know. Bennie asked you to keep it from me. I’m furious at her, too, but I don’t have the luxury of dealing with that anger. She’ll be gone soon, and I won’t spend a minute of our time being mad at her.”

  I push open the door and haul myself out of the truck, away from that beautiful boy and all his perfect imperfections.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Loveless

  Mondays suck even when you don’t work. I wake feeling hungover, but I know it’s not from alcohol. This is an emotional hangover, the worst kind. My head is pounding, there’s an ache inside my chest, and my eyes feel like they have sand in them. That’s just the physical stuff. I pour myself out of bed and into the shower, where I try to scrub away all of it.

  Bennie and I spend the day inside. I cook grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch, and we lay on the floor, flipping through photo albums while My Bloody Valentine plays. Too often, my mind drifts to Preston or Dylan, but I work hard to stay in the moment with my sister. She goes to bed without eating, and I sit and binge watch episodes of Supernatural on Netflix.

  With every dangerous situation on the show, with each surprise, I am brought back to thoughts of Dylan. I can feel my anxiety growing day by day. The last piece of mail he sent was so close, if he is coming, he could be here by now. Surely Sawyer would have told me if he was released from jail in St. Louis. A monster jumps from the shadows, attacking the Winchester brothers, and I yelp. I turn the television off and try to calm my frazzled nerves.

  When I crawl into bed, I stare at the wall separating Preston and me and wonder what he is doing at this very moment. It is unusually quiet on his side, and I miss hearing his muffled songs playing. I wait and wait for it, but the music never comes.

  Tuesday, I sleep later than I intended, but make it downstairs by ten a.m. In the store, I greet Bennie with a kiss on the forehead and take a seat on the front counter.

  “Good morning, Wren.”

  “Morning, Ben.” I glance around the store and find it empty.

  “He’s not here.”

  “I wasn’t looking for him,” I lie.

  Bennie glances over her magazine, giving me that look that calls me on my bullshit.

  “In the two and a half years that Preston has worked for me, he has never called in sick or been late to one day of work.”

  “Is he sick?” I ask.

  She shakes her head and lowers her eyes, speaking to me from behind the glossy pages of her celebrity gossip.

  “He said he overslept.”

  Preston bursts through the swinging door, looking more disheveled than I’ve ever seen him. He freezes when he sees me and smooths his hands down his blue T-shirt. I grin when I spot the large image of Papa Smurf covering his chest. Preston drops his gaze from mine and approaches the counter.

  “Speak of the devil, and he shall appear,” Bennie says, giving him a bright smile.

  “I’m sorry, Bennie.” Preston pushes one hand through his hair and grips the back of his neck. The muscles in that arm bulge and flex as he fights to find his calm. He brings his other wrist up to his eyes and stares at his watch.

  “No worries, Preston. It happens. From the
looks of it, I’d say you could use some more sleep. Are you okay?”

  He drops both arms and glances at me, even though I remain silent.

  “I’m fine,” he says.

  The lie told in those two words kills me. I pull my bottom lip into my mouth and chew on it. When I look up, Preston is watching me, his gaze trained on my mouth. I immediately release my lip and give him an apologetic shrug.

  “Wren,” he says softly.

  “Preston.”

  When I offer nothing more, he turns and busies himself on aisle three.

  “Well, that was awkward. But at least you’re acknowledging each other now. What happened?” Bennie asks, folding her magazine closed and laying it on the counter next to me.

  “Huh?”

  “Don’t play innocent, Wren. What happened between you two?”

  I blow out a breath toward the ceiling and tap my heels against the display case beneath me.

  “You know what happened. He lied.”

  Bennie shakes her head. “You’re so hardheaded.”

  “Hello? Pot? This is kettle. You’re black.” I stick my tongue out at her, because it will always be okay to do that to my big sister.

  “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. You are being unreasonable, Wren.”

  “What I’m being is tired of having this conversation.”

  “Then listen to me. Blame me. Be mad at me. Not the one guy on earth who would never knowingly hurt you.” Bennie’s hands ball into fists in her lap. She takes a deep breath and cuts me with a glare.

  “I trusted him, Ben.”

  She huffs and stands before me. “Stop being such a brat! You need him. Don’t take for granted that he’ll be around when you realize that.” Bennie stomps off and disappears into the storage closet.

  I hate upsetting her, but I just can’t deal with the whole Preston situation right now. All of my time and energy should be focused on her and cherishing every moment. I wish she could understand that. Instead, here we are fighting over a boy.

  By the afternoon, Bennie has abandoned trying to remain strong. She’s gone upstairs to lay down, and I can feel her slipping away from me. The bright light that shines from her is growing dimmer every day. It’s like watching the sun implode, knowing it’s going to kill you, too. I push away the pity I have for myself and concentrate on enjoying what time we have left. I vow to continue spending my days with Bennie and three nights a week at The Haystack. I’m saving most of my money from there and figure it will be a nice cushion when I leave this place again.

  Preston and I continue to exchange awkward greetings, but nothing more. Though our conversations are muted, we spend a lot of time watching each other. His nervous tics are much worse these days, and it pains me that I may have something to do with that. I’m not sure what he gets up to on Mondays, but Tuesdays always seem to be the roughest day for him. My desire for Preston doesn’t waver. I want him now, more than ever, but I feel held in place by the promises I made to myself. Spend time with Bennie and focus on her.

  Though Dylan hasn’t appeared, I’m not stupid. I don’t think he’s just going to leave me alone. If he shows up, I’ll do whatever is necessary to keep Bennie safe.

  In the morning, Bennie and I sit at her table eating breakfast. She looks exhausted and twenty years older than she should. She catches me staring and gives me a smile, but it’s frail.

  “I think we should have a summer sale. What do you think?” she asks.

  “Sounds good.”

  “Preston has been working nonstop in that workshop. He’s got so much done that I’m thinking of expanding the furniture and vintage collectibles section.”

  My heart races at the mention of Preston. “I think that’s a great idea, Ben.”

  “Have you been up there recently? To the workshop? It’s amazing what that boy can do with his hands.”

  My spoon clatters to the floor, and Bennie gives me another smile. I fetch a new spoon and return to the table.

  “You know I haven’t been up there. We barely speak.”

  She coughs, and her eyes water. I know she’s in pain, but she refuses to let on how much.

  “Wren, you two make sense together. You are the chaos to his calm and vice versa. I know you still want him. What’s the problem?”

  “I want to focus all my energy on you.”

  I abandon my cereal and stare across the table at her. The morning sunlight pours in through the front window, and her pale skin looks translucent. She is even thinner than when I first arrived. This is Bennie’s ghost, even before she’s left the earth.

  “Sweetheart. I asked him not to tell you about my cancer. I put that on him. It wasn’t fair of me to do so, especially after you two got involved. He is good for you, Wren. I’ve never seen you so happy in this town. And you are good for him, too. That boy loves you.” She pauses and wheezes through a deep breath. “When you left, I was so angry. I just knew that you’d never come back. Your postcards were the only thing that kept me going. They showed me that you were out there, really living.”

  “I was,” I answer.

  “I thought about trying to find you when I first got sick, but I didn’t want to bring you back to Crowley just to watch me waste away. I wanted you happy.”

  “I want you happy, too,” I whisper, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. My voice cracks and gives out on me.

  “Then please talk to Preston. Forgive him. I don’t want to die knowing that you’re all alone in the world. You’re my Wrenie.” Her eyes gloss over with unshed tears. “You’re both so important to me.”

  I give in to the sobs that feel like they are choking me from the inside. She’s right about everything. She always has been. Leaving my chair, I fall to my knees next to Bennie and wrap my arms around her waist. Preston and I balance each other out. We are night and day, mixed together on a canvas to create the most vibrant sunset. I realize that Bennie is not the only thing holding me to the town anymore. I cry into her lap as she runs her fingers through my hair and hums. We stay that way until my tears dry up and my knees ache from the kitchen floor.

  Bennie takes my face in her hands and lifts me up. “Promise me you’ll talk to him.” She squeezes my cheeks together like when I was a little kid.

  “I pwomish.”

  We both chuckle and after finishing our breakfasts, get started planning the big summer sale for Vinyl.

  …

  After closing, I sit in the storage room with Bennie and go through boxes of her oldest inventory. As I flip through a collection of Rolling Stones albums, I wonder about the future of Vinyl.

  “Ben, what’s going to happen to the store when you…?” I can’t even say the word, but she knows what I mean.

  “Everything goes to you, of course.” She shrugs.

  “Me? I don’t know… I mean, I can’t…” I drop the stack of records I’ve been sorting onto the floor.

  “Calm down, Wren. Everything that is mine will be yours. That means you can do whatever you want with it. Keep Vinyl open, or sell it, or close it down completely. Whatever you want is fine with me.”

  “I just can’t imagine it closed. It’s been around as long as I remember.”

  Bennie nods and coughs into the dusty air.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  “Not exactly. I’m dying.” She gives me a wide grin, and I want to cry. Instead, I roll my eyes and refocus on my stack.

  “Why don’t you let me finish this, Ben? I can get it.”

  She flips me off and gives me a wink. “I’m not helpless.”

  I return the gesture just as Preston comes through the door.

  “You’re still working?” he asks Bennie, completely ignoring me. I watch as he lifts his hand and touches each button on his shirt from his collar down to the bottom.

  “Just getting things ready for the sale.”

  “Need some help?” he asks, fingers running along his buttons again then tapping his watch.

  Be
nnie shakes her head. “I have Wren here. Go enjoy your evening. But tomorrow, if you want to bring a few more pieces from your workshop in for the sale, that would be cool.”

  “Yeah,” he says, looking down at his Chucks before meeting my gaze. “I’m headed there now. I’ll bring some down when I’m finished.”

  “Sounds good,” Bennie says, getting distracted by something in her box.

  There’s a beat of silence between us.

  “Wren.”

  “Hello, Preston,” I answer, nodding at him.

  His fingers twitch, and the memory of how they felt on my skin plays through my thoughts. He opens his mouth to say something, but Bennie interrupts.

  “Holy shit! Look at this!” she says, waving a photo at me. “How did this get in here?”

  She hands me the photo, and I’m transported back to my childhood. Back when I was too young to resent my parents and thought they knew everything. We’re standing in front of my dad’s newly remodeled church. My parents are stone-faced and stare at the camera impassively, American Gothic style. My mother holds her Bible while Bennie holds me. She is in her mid-twenties and so beautiful. Despite the always-strained relationship with our parents, she is smiling. I’m four or five years old, wearing a pink dress with lots of ruffles, my blond hair in pigtails. Everyone is looking at the camera except me. I’m looking up at Bennie, my hand on her face.

  “Wow, Bennie. What a hottie!” I say, fanning myself with the photo.

  “I’m still a hottie,” she says.

  “Of course you are, Ben.”

  Preston waits quietly. I hand him the photo and watch him inspect it. He studies it for a while before handing it back to Bennie.

  “Here you go, hottie.” He gives her a wink, and she blushes. I think it’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. “I’m heading upstairs. See you later.”

  He disappears through the door, and the instant he’s gone, I want him back. I’m so tired of this internal fight. I’m so tired of denying what we both want, what I need. And I promised Bennie I would make this right.

  “I’ll talk to him.”

  Bennie looks up from the photo. Her face lights up, and I suddenly don’t remember why I’ve been avoiding this for so long. Just saying those words has released such a huge burden from my heart.