The End of All Things Beautiful

by Nikki Young

  Jack put me in charge of these clients because they are some of the most difficult. But as much as this has consumed my life, I can’t let it deter me from taking time off to find Benji.

  A few minutes after I arrive Jack is in my office and I’m handing off all the information to him. The conversation is completely professional and Jack has yet to bring up our little stray from the norm and my admission of Tommy’s suicide.

  “How long do you think you’ll be gone?” he asks as he’s leaving my office.

  I don’t answer him right away because I have no idea. It could be a day or two or it could be a week. I haven’t been in contact with Benji since I left school so I have no idea where he’s living or how he’ll respond to any of this once I find him.

  “I guess as of right now, just a few days, but it could be longer.” I pause and look up at Jack. I can tell he’s struggling to not ask me any more questions and for that I’m thankful. I’ve told him more than I planned already.

  “Just keep me posted,” he says as an uneasy look forms on his face. “And Campbell?” he adds.

  “Yeah, Jack?”

  “Be safe. Call me if you need anything.”

  I raise my eyebrows at him and give him a small smile. “No worries, Jack. I’ll be just fine.” I try to reassure him, although I know my life isn’t in danger, I’m still not certain what lies ahead.

  He’s now standing in the doorway to my office, his eyes focused on mine. “You haven’t been fine in a really long time.”

  What am I supposed to say to that? It’s the truth, but again, acknowledging it is somehow admitting too much.

  When I don’t respond, he gives me a quick nod and leaves my office. I breathe a sigh of relief and get down to the other reason I came back to my office.

  It’s about time I find Benji. Nine years apart and while I now realize it’s something I should’ve done a long time ago, I just wasn’t ready to confront that part of my life. I’m still not sure I am now.

  I start simple by typing his name into Google, but I come up short almost immediately. Finding only a few old news articles from high school when he played hockey and some information on his enrollment at Ann Arbor. I try several different searches, but still come up with nothing. No information on him since basically after the accident. This shouldn’t surprise me. I did the same thing. I disappeared for at least four years and it wasn’t until I started working for Jack that my name began to appear in internet searches.

  As ridiculous as it sounds, I ran searches on myself fairly regularly, because of the fear that all of this would at some point come back to haunt my life and not just through nightmares.

  We left the scene of an accident, lied to the police and then all but disappeared. I was waiting for that moment when they showed up looking for me. It has yet to happen and there are times that I find relief in the fact that it’s been nine years, but then again, I worry. I wonder why we were never questioned more than on just the day that the police showed up to tell us Sam was found dead. It never extended beyond that day.

  After an hour of searching and finding nothing, I open up a program we use to research companies and clients before we decide to start the process of purchasing a business. If Benji works for a large corporation his name will instantly ping back to me. At the time I left, Benji was majoring in computer science and instructional technology, so if he graduated, it wouldn’t be all that unrealistic to think he’d be working for a large business.

  But again, nothing is returned and I’m beginning to grow frustrated. So I use the one last resource I have and I call in a favor.

  “Working late?” Max says in the way of a greeting when he answers his phone.

  “Hey Max,” I respond. “Sorta. I need a favor.”

  “Oh course, Campbell. What do you need?”

  Max is the private investigator the company contracts out to do all the research we’re unable to do using the software Jack purchased to do background checks. The trouble is, he’ll bill Jack for this little search I’m about to have him conduct and I don’t want him to start questioning me again. It’s just another lie I’ll have to spin in order to keep everything quiet. Although I’m used to lies at this point; it’s not like telling the truth now will suddenly right everything I’ve done wrong.

  “Well, I need you to find someone for me, but I need you to bill me. Not Jack,” I add at the end rather quickly.

  “Okay, so this is something personal then, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I answer, but don’t elaborate.

  “Campbell,” he states as if he can sense my hesitation. “I’m a private investigator. My job is to investigate people privately.” He says this last part with a little humor to his tone, but turns serious again rather quickly. “And that’s not just for the people I’m investigating, but also for the people I’m working for. Whatever you need is between you and me.”

  I exhale hard and realize I had been holding my breath. This whole thing makes me uneasy. Asking someone for help is not something I’m used to doing especially given what I’m asking him to investigate. I have no idea what he will come up with or if any of it will link back to the accident or to me or to all of us.

  “Thank you. If you wouldn’t mind, just bill me at my home address. I’ll text it to you when we get off the phone.”

  “No problem. Let me just get some information from you and I’ll get started right away,” Max says and I can hear him shuffling through some papers before he tells me what he needs. “So, I’ll need a first and last name, a date of birth and if possible a last known address.”

  I give Max all the information he’s requested including the last known address. Sam and Benji’s address for their apartment in Ann Arbor is still fresh in my memory like it was just yesterday that they lived there. And when I said his name, Benjamin Kennedy, a small chill ran through my body, nervousness mixed with uncertainty and sadness. It’s been years since I’ve said his full name, but every year when his birthday comes around I feel myself grow desperate for all those days I’ve missed with him.

  “Thanks, Campbell,” Max says, but it’s me who should be thanking him, given he’s the one keeping this whole thing a secret. “When do you need this information by?”

  “As soon as possible,” I tell Max before adding, “And really, all I need is an address or a phone number of where I can find him.”

  “That’s easy,” he brags and it makes me laugh a little.

  “Oh, Max, it’s a good thing I like you or your conceitedness would be a real turn off.”

  “Funny, Campbell,” he jokes. “If I didn’t have a girlfriend I’d find your sarcasm and bitchiness a turn on.” I giggle a little at Max’s lame attempt at a joke and I hear him chuckle along with me. It’s been a while since I’ve laughed and it feels good. I almost forget why I called Max in the first place. But the reason is back almost immediately and I lose that feeling of happiness, my smile fading. I hate what this whole thing has done to my life.

  “Later, Max, and thanks again for your help.”

  I spend the next few hours answering emails and preparing to take a few days off; leaving everything in order for Claire and Jack. As much as I like to believe I’m organizing all of this to make things easier on them, it’s a distraction of sorts to keep me from thinking about what Max is currently doing. I doubt he’ll get back to me today, but I’m holding out hope that he will. Something in me needs this information, even if I do nothing with it. There’s a need that is driving me to find out if Benji is safe, if he’s still alive and if he has moved on with his life. Even though I know I won’t get this information from Max, just knowing I have a contact number or an address for him might help me relax. After Tommy’s death and knowing there are only two of us left, I can’t lose him too.

  The hours pass slowly and I run out of things to do at work and leave around seven-thirty. Again, wasting time and trying to distract myself, I stop off at a deli near my house and pick up dinner. The guy behind the c
ounter eyes me suspiciously as I order enough food for five people.

  “And I’ll have a piece of that cheesecake,” I say and he gives me a curt nod, adding it to my exorbitant amount of food. I’ve spent the last few evenings drunk and the subsequent morning hungover. I’m hoping this ridiculous amount of food keeps me from drinking myself to sleep.

  I take the bag and leave with the judgmental eyes of the clerk watching me and it takes everything in me not to tell him to mind his own fucking business.

  But by the time I arrive home, I’ve lost my appetite. It’s been six hours since I first spoke to Max, and while I’ve told myself not to expect anything from him, I’m desperate for him to get back to me.

  As the time passes, I begin to worry and my mind begins to wander to really horrible scenarios. I worry that Benji is dead and I’ve missed my opportunity. My chance to mend the way things ended and now I will find myself alone with this secret and the guilt of what we’ve done.

  But then I think about the letter. Would Tommy have asked me to find Benji if he didn’t already know he was alive and well? I hope that he wouldn’t have led me to find him, only to be upset by his death too. I really need to stop focusing on this because all these made up situations make things so much worse.

  So instead of worrying about Benji, I begin to worry about what Max might find about him, about us. Is there anything that will show up that will link us back to the accident? Is there something only the authorities are privy to that will implicate us in a crime, a crime we committed but won’t admit to? Was what we did even a crime?

  Just as my thoughts begin to get out of hand, my phone vibrates on the coffee table and it almost makes me scream out loud.

  I see Max’s name lighting up the screen and in a near panic I grab for it. My breath already coming hard and fast as the nervousness takes control of my body and although my stomach is empty, I’ve grown nauseous. The phone feels heavy in my slick hands as my palms sweat and I worry I might drop it.

  “Hello,” I answer, but my voice doesn’t sound like my own and apparently Max feels the same way.

  “I’m looking for Campbell Forester,” he says, a small amount of confusion lingering in his voice.

  “Hi, Max. It’s me,” I say, trying to gain some composure. “I’m guessing you have some information for me. At least I hope you do,” I add.

  “Yeah, I do and sorry it took me so long to get back to you. This was a tough one.”

  And now the nausea has settled as a tight knot in my stomach, heavy and painful. Why the fuck would finding Benji be hard?

  I’ve grown silent and I realize it when I hear Max call my name. “Campbell?” he questions.

  “Yeah, sorry. Thanks, I didn’t think I would hear back from you tonight,” I say, swallowing hard as I pray my hands stop shaking and I don’t vomit on the spot.

  “No problem. So like I was saying, there’s very little information about this Benjamin Kennedy after 2006,” he says and again I stop listening to him. That was the year of the accident and from the little bit of information Max has told me, evidently I wasn’t the only one to disappear. I know he didn’t come back to Chicago to live with his mom; our paths would’ve crossed at some point.

  “Were you able to find anything?”

  “Have a little faith, Cam,” Max says and my heart sinks to the ground. He couldn’t possibly know I hate to be called Cam, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting. I feel the first tear roll down my cheek and I suck in a ragged breath. I can’t start crying while I’m on the phone with Max. “So, I wasn’t able to find a home address for him or a listed phone number and in today’s age, that’s really odd. But what I did find is that he owns a custom carpentry and furniture store in Hessel, Michigan. It’s in the UP, the upper peninsula, about eight hours from here; a small tourist and fishing town on the lake.”

  I let out a sigh of relief, grateful that he’s not dead and while I don’t have an address, the business information will do. If it’s in fact his company, I should be able to find him there.

  “Thanks, Max. You got a name and an address for this place?”

  “Yep. It’s CB Custom Carpentry and Furniture and it’s a rural route, which means it’s pretty much in the middle of nowhere.” He lists off the address and I quickly jot it down along with the name of the company. “And Campbell,” Max adds, “I don’t know what you need this info for, but be careful if you’re heading up there alone. It’s a long drive and it’s pretty desolate, especially since tourist season is over.”

  “Thanks for your concern, Max, but I’ll be okay,” I respond knowing I’m going to be anything but okay when I finally find Benji. “And don’t forget to bill me and not the company,” I remind him.

  “Got it.”

  “Thanks again, Max. I really appreciate you getting back to me tonight.”

  After I hang up, I stare down at the name and the address, it finally hitting me that I have a choice to make. Up until my phone rang, I had been torn on what I should do, but seeing it in front of me, side by side with Tommy’s letter, I know I’ll be heading up to Hessel, Michigan.

  Wherever the fuck that is.

  Although it’s late, I start packing. If it’s as far as Max said, then I’m going to need to get an early start and I definitely won’t be back in the same day. I toss a few pairs of jeans and a couple of sweaters into my suitcase knowing the weather will be far colder than it is here. And as I open my underwear drawer, I find myself choosing some of my nicest lingerie because I’m totally going to strip off my clothes the moment I see him. What the fuck am I thinking?

  He’s never going to see me in my underwear and the last thing I need him to know is that I’m still in love with him. All of this makes this idea to find him seem completely insane. I’m insane.

  But, despite all my crazy thoughts; the fear, the hurt, the anger and the guilt, all returning, I’m also met with an overwhelming desire to remember what it feels like to fall in love with him, to be in love with him.

  It’s been so long since I’ve slept well, but tonight I drift off to sleep almost instantly.

  Chapter Ten

  For the first time in weeks, I wake up with my alarm, a quiet peaceful feeling as the music plays softly. I slept straight through the night. No nightmares, no tossing and turning, no insomnia. And even though I know I have more that lies ahead in this fucked up mess that has been created, I find a calm in knowing that Benji is okay.

  I guess the term ‘okay’ is relative because of what we’ve been through, neither of us could ever be classified as okay compared to normal standards. But in my eyes, him being alive is as okay as I need right now.

  As I’m dragging my suitcase into the living room, the front door opens and in steps Carson. His face is completely unreadable and this is definitely something I wasn’t prepared for.

  “Hey, you going somewhere?” he asks, and I can tell by his tone that he’s not here to have a casual chat with me.

  “Yeah,” I respond, even though I know he’s going to push for more.

  “You going to give me anymore than that?” he questions, his hands on his hips, as he shoots me an angry glare.

  “No, probably not,” I retort, knowing this relationship is long over, and it’s all about to come to a head.

  “Campbell, if you walk out of here without telling me where you’re going we’re done!” he shouts at me as if I’m a small child being scolded.

  “We’ve been done for a while now, Carson; don’t tell me you’re just noticing that now?” I ask condescendingly, and I can tell it pisses him off.

  Slamming the door shut behind him, he storms past me and into the bedroom. Following him, I find him pulling his clothes from the drawers and closet in an angry rage.

  “I don’t know what the fuck I ever did to you for you to treat me like this,” he seethes, muttering as he continues grabbing his things from the closet. He turns and shoots me a dirty look, like everything that has ever gone wrong in our relat
ionship is my fault. “You’ve been emotionally unavailable from the day we met. Like a fucking ice queen,” he spits out, and it pisses me off.

  While I know I’ve been all of these things and more, I don’t deserve to have it thrown back in my face, to have him chastise me for a situation he chose to stay in.

  “Why’d you stay?” I ask, my tone harsh.

  “Beats the fuck out of me!” he screams as he pushes past me to get a garbage bag from the kitchen. When he returns, he begins stuffing his clothes in and I roll my eyes at the whole situation. He’s being overly dramatic.

  “You don’t have to pack all your stuff now,” I tell him. He whips around to look at me, his eyes wide and his face red. “I’m leaving and you can stay and pack your things.”

  “How fucking sweet of you,” he hisses. “Now that it’s over, you’ve decided to think about me for once, you self-absorbed bitch.”

  “Okay, Carson,” I say, raising my voice. “That’s enough. I get it, you’re pissed, but you’re not going to come into my home and call me a bitch. Get your shit and leave.”

  I’d be lying if I said his words didn’t hurt. No one likes to be hated by someone and the fact that I’ve just been confronted by Carson and knowing I’m about to confront Benji, both people who I left hurt and confused, this day hasn’t started off really well.

  He laughs and it’s condescending and rude. “See, that’s where this all went wrong. I moved in with you. This was our house, but it’s always been about you.”

  “Fine, whatever,” I say detaching myself from this conversation. “Just get your stuff and leave.”

  I watch him haul the garbage bag full of clothes toward the front door, dropping it, before he heads back into the kitchen for another.

  “And by the way,” he says, his eyes glaring at me. “I didn’t stay with John. I stayed with Allison, and I fucked her too.”