by Nikki Young
I always wondered how they knew Sam was dead. I was unconscious and so was Kelly, how could they have been sure? And then the realization hits me.
“You checked, didn’t you?” I ask, and I don’t need to clarify what I’m asking; Benji understands. He nods nearly imperceptibly, but I feel it against the top of my head.
“When the car finally stopped moving, I saw you lying there, your face bloody and your eyes closed, it was the first thing I did. I shook you, but you didn’t move. I kept yelling your name and you didn’t respond.”
I feel his hold around my body tighten and again I’m shivering. It’s not from the cold, it’s from everything that is being said; everything I’m finding out and everything I’m reliving.
“I laid my head against your chest. I felt you breathing. I heard your heartbeat and I started sobbing. I held you in my arms and cried. At that moment I didn’t care who survived, I knew you had and that’s all that mattered to me.”
His words would ordinarily sound selfish, but I understand fully what he means. I’m sure I would’ve felt the same way had I been placed in his situation.
He continues and now it’s like he can’t stop, as if he needs to purge it all from his mind, from his body, from his soul, like there will be absolution in telling it.
“Tommy climbed over the seat and after he found out Kelly was still alive, he looked back at me. Sam hadn’t moved at all and I think we both knew, but he still checked. It was then that he pulled Kelly from the car and away from it all.”
He continues filling me in on how he didn’t believe Sam was dead and despite the fact that he was terrified, he checked Sam’s pulse too, actually, they both checked multiple times. While he said it felt like time had sped up, like they had been dealing with the situation for hours, only a few minutes had passed. And in those few minutes they made the decision to leave and act like we had never been there.
Neither of us has moved, still in the same position, my head resting against his shoulder, my arms wrapped around his waist, and I’m not sure I could look at him right now without breaking down. Maybe it’s the same reason he hasn’t moved. I can tell it’s taking everything in him not to start crying.
He just admitted to me that he left his best friend, dead in the car after checking his pulse. There’s so much insensitivity in it all, yet so much realism too. We were just kids, scared and confused. Our decision making skills at that moment were completely irrational and I feel like that’s when everything started to fall apart. The selfishness took over. He was already dead. There was nothing we could do. He was driving, he was at fault; he was no longer one of us.
It’s a sick and twisted world we live in and that day, we all saw it first hand. We saw what selfishness and fear can do to a group of people who were thick as thieves. It makes you run. It makes you forget the people who died far quicker than you ever thought possible, but more than anything, it makes you less of a person. You lose part of yourself. We all lost that day.
And just when I think it can’t get any worse, Benji starts again.
“Campbell, it was all so horrible. I hated myself the instant I thought about leaving Sam, but at the time I didn’t see any other option. Fear was guiding me and as I watched you lying there, you were still out, I knew this wouldn’t be what you wanted.”
He moves out of my arms, shifting so he can look at me, as if seeing me will remind him that he’s loved, that it doesn’t matter what he did because I did it with him. “I…I…I decided not to leave him.” I give him a questioning look because I know how this all played out in the end. We did leave him. “I knew you’d come to and be the voice of reason. Something about seeing you there reminded me that this wasn’t about just me, this was about all of us, and Sam would always be one of us.”
I’m not at all prepared for what he says next in spite of knowing that we did ultimately decide to run away from the accident and leave Sam.
“Before you came to and after I made my decision,” he says, his voice weak. “We realized that someone in the other car was still alive.”
I gasp out loud, I don’t mean to, but it escapes without warning and Benji tenses immediately. His body goes stiff and he looks away from me quickly, but I put my hand on his cheek bringing him back.
“Campbell,” he whimpers, and I feel it everywhere; the ache in his words piercing my skin, making my heart shatter and my stomach churn. “We watched him die. We could’ve done something, but Tommy and I stood there and watched him die.”
He’s crying now, the tears running down his cheeks and I pull him into my arms, his face buried in my neck. I feel the sting of his warm tears hit my skin and I cry with him.
I can barely understand him, his voice muffled with tears as it’s pressed to my neck. “I used to tell myself that it was okay that he died. His whole family was dead, right?” he asks, but it’s rhetorical, he isn’t looking for an answer. “What kind of life would he have had? He was just a kid.”
I understand what he’s saying and his rationalization at the time seemed logical, but in the light of day, when the guilt creeps through and your conscience shames you for what you did, it’s horrible. I hated myself and I still do, for leaving Sam, for not stepping in when I knew Kelly was on the verge of ending her life and now, for not ever reaching out to Tommy. But after hearing all of this, I know the guilt Benji carries with him is far worse than what feel. And now I know why he disappeared.
“It was never my decision to make,” Benji says, his voice now a harsh growl, angry with himself and with his choices. “I chose for that kid. I never gave him a chance.”
I don’t know what to say. Nothing that comes out of my mouth will ever make what happened right. Nothing I say will correct all the wrongs; it will always be a burden we carry, but now he’s not alone.
“I don’t know what to say,” I tell him. “And please don’t think that’s because I think what you did was wrong.”
Before I can continue Benji interjects. “What I did was wrong, Campbell. Can’t you see that? Can’t you see what a horrible person I am?”
“No,” I say shaking my head. “You’re not. You were confused and lost. You weren’t thinking rationally, but you can’t keep beating yourself up over this. We have to find a way to get over it. Both of us do.”
We have each other now and that should mean something. We’ve been going this alone, burying everything and trying to live a lie. But underneath it all, we’re both a mess. Yet together we can fix this. We can find ourselves again and somehow end this guilt we carry.
“I went to the police once,” he admits. “I asked them what would happen if someone was to leave the scene of an accident where people were killed.” He runs his hand through his hair and wipes at the tears that have now dried on his cheeks. “They told me that if the person who left the scene was driving, they would be responsible for the death of the others. Vehicular manslaughter, he called it. I wanted him to call it what it was, murder. It was murder.”
The way he says the word ‘murder’ makes me cringe. That’s what it was. We knowingly drove drunk; while we didn’t intend to kill anyone, that’s a repercussion for our actions. It might have been something we’d done hundreds of times in the past without incident, but all it took was one time—one time to ruin far too many lives.
“It was like he knew what I was asking, like he knew it was me who left the scene, because he said that there really wasn’t anything he could do to prove a person left the scene unless they were driving.” Again Benji shakes his head, his eyes are closed now. “He also added, that the police don’t generally look for that person if they have the driver. The person at fault would be the person they sought out.”
“That would’ve been Sam,” I add, filling in so he doesn’t have to.
“Yeah,” Benji says. “But we’re all at fault. It could’ve been any one of us driving. It just happened to be Sam that night.”
“I know. Don’t you think that thought haunts me all the t
ime? Why was it him? Why wasn’t it me or you or Tommy or Kelly?”
“There are so many unanswered questions and not a day goes by that I don’t wonder all these things and more,” Benji adds. “You’d think I’d find some solace in what the police officer told me, but I just felt more guilty.”
“It’s been nine years. How do we turn ourselves in now?” I ask, and Benji shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t think we do. I think we need to try to figure out how to move on, figure out how to start over, together.”
“We’ll never forget what happened, but we need to find a way to forgive ourselves for what we did,” I say, knowing we can’t continue to live this way, but knowing we need each other to survive it all.
I’m not even sure where to begin. I have so many questions and so many thoughts running through my head. Having heard all of this for the first time is overwhelming and disorienting. Trying to process it all and worry about Benji’s feelings and how he’s coping is more than I ever expected to encounter during all of this. Yet, as overloaded and upset as I am, I know we both need each other more than ever.
“We’ll get through this together,” I tell him, my hands on either side of his face, pulling his mouth to mine. I kiss him softly and slowly, my lips pressing to his as I let the tip of my tongue graze his bottom lip. I feel his hand slide into my hair, pulling me closer and he deepens the kiss. I find more comfort in his touch and in his kiss than I have felt in so long and when he pulls away, his forehead against mine, I murmur, “I love you, Benji.”
“I love you, Campbell.”
We sit together quietly, both of us finally calming down, but understanding that we’ve just scratched the surface of what we have to deal with. Discussing the accident, our letters from Tommy and our feelings about it all, is just the beginning. We have to figure out how to move on.
“Where do we go from here?” I ask, and Benji lets out a long slow breath before closing his eyes and wrapping his hand around the back of my neck. He kisses my forehead, his lips lingering for a few seconds.
“I know where we can start,” he says.
Chapter Twenty-Four
His lips are still on my forehead as he begins to kiss his way to my neck. It’s only been two days since we were last together, but I can sense the desperation and need radiating from him. After everything he’s just shared, he needs to know we’re okay, I understand. I need it too. The feeling of closeness, skin to skin, the touch of my hands, all of it will calm him and ease the stress of what we’ve both been dealt.
“I need you, Campbell,” he murmurs in my ear.
“I’m yours. I’ve always been yours,” I whisper back as I pull my sweater over my head. I run my fingers lightly down his chest until I reach the hem of his shirt, lifting it over his head, I toss it to the side and return my hands to his chest.
Benji lets out a soft sigh the moment my fingers touch his bare skin. He’ll always be perfect to me, beautiful and caring and kind and selfless, but I know his heart is scarred. He’s broken. We’re irrevocably broken together.
I rest my hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath it and I know I’m lucky. I could’ve easily lost him, not just in the accident but also because of the accident. Not many people fall in love at age five, but we did. We’ve endured so much together over the years and this is just one more thing we’ll deal with together. While the accident is a tragedy, it’s ultimately what brought Benji back to me. It’s what we both need to survive. We need each other.
My hands drift lower and with each soft brush of my fingers, Benji whispers my name. I undo his belt and then the button on his jeans. He’s relaxed; his eyes are closed and his head is resting on the back of the couch. He lifts his hips as I slide his jeans and his boxers down his legs.
I kiss a path down his chest to his stomach, but before I can go any lower, he pulls me up to his mouth and kisses me, his fingers fumbling with my pants until they’re unbuttoned and I’m wiggling out of them and my underwear.
I’m straddling his hips now, but he’s reserved; his kisses and his touch slow and gentle as if he needs to take in everything about me. I don’t want him to hold back anymore and in that moment he says, “Not here,” and I take his hand, leading him to my bedroom.
I lay back on the bed and he stares down at me, but he looks tired and I’m about to protest when he shakes his head slowly. I knew he wouldn’t stop now; he needs me and I love that he’ll give himself to me completely.
And I will do the same.
I pull him down, lifting my head to meet his mouth with mine as his body covers me with its weight, with its warmth and the smell of him. I’m lost. Lost in him.
I feel Benji’s hand slip between us and when he touches me I moan, telling him it feels good and that I never want him to stop.
I love what my words do to him; his breathing is heavy as he moans softly in my ear. He will be my undoing.
“Please,” I say, and he pushes my knee up as slides inside me. He feels incredible and I whisper in his ear just how much I love him, just how much I need him, too.
I’m close, but our movements are slow and as I draw closer, I cling to him, my arms wrapped tightly around his neck. With his mouth next to my ear, he whispers my name over and over, and he could say it a million times and I would never get tired of it.
He makes everything in my life perfect.
We both wake early the next morning, but for once it isn’t because of nightmares or insomnia or missing each other; it’s being together that keeps us from sleeping. I can’t get enough of him, even if it means losing sleep.
I snuggle against his warm body and press my face to the curve of his neck, kissing and smelling him. It never gets old and I know this time together will only add to my need to be with him at all times, to always be close to him.
It brings my thoughts to our plan before he found Tommy’s letter, before we finally opened up and admitted what happened that night, and I wonder if he still wants it. I know I still do.
“I don’t want to stay here,” I tell him and he pulls back from me, giving me a confused look.
“In bed?” he asks.
“No. Here in Chicago. I want to be where you want to be. I want to be with you.”
He says nothing, but wraps me in his arms; kissing me with everything he has, hard and pleading. “I wasn’t going to leave without you,” he says almost breathlessly, but with a smile on his face.
We both know we have a lot to take care of today and over the next few days, even possibly over the next year. This is going to be a lot for us to take on, but we need to start somewhere.
We haven’t talked much about it all, but Benji has a plan and while it’s not something I’m keen on doing, I know it’s part of finding a way to move beyond all of this.
There was a time when he knew me better than anyone and what he says next makes me realize he still does.
“You’re worried,” Benji says, but it’s not a question, he’s not asking me, he already knows I am. “Nine years apart doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten everything about you. We spent more time together, Campbell, than we ever did apart.”
“What if doing this drives us apart again?” I ask and it makes my heart hurt. The thought of losing him again is something I can’t even fathom, but it’s always there in the back of my mind.
“It won’t,” he responds firmly.
“You can’t possibly know that.”
Benji lets out a sigh and rolls onto his side so he’s now looking at me. His fingers trail across my cheek and between my breasts before coming to rest on my stomach.
“Yes, I can,” he says, nodding his head and giving me a subtle smile. “My life without you was a fucking nightmare and judging by the way your house looked, so was yours.”
Fuck if he isn’t right. I’d honestly rather be miserable with him than ever live without him again. We’re in control of the way things happen from now on and if the past has taught us anything, it’s that we need to be open and
honest with each other. Lies and secrets and running away solve nothing, and even if it hurts like hell, hide nothing.
We said it before, no more secrets and no more lies. We can’t let fear and pain dictate the way we live our lives. This is about us and it’s about healing, about finding a way to live with what we’ve done and somehow moving on despite everything.
I smile at Benji, not needing to argue or question the finality to his words. I trust him wholeheartedly. I always have.
I lean over and kiss him. I kiss him hard and intensely, like this might be the last time I’ll ever kiss him, like we might never find each other again or like something will one day come between us again. While I know none of this is true, I hope we live like this forever. This intense feeling of wanting him and needing him, and the desire to be with him at all times, to feel his hands on my body, to need his touch to survive. To have this, and all of it coupled with the fact that we’re the only people in the world who know what we’ve been through. We were made for each other.
It takes us another hour to pull ourselves from the bed and an hour after that to finally shower. Benji is unable to keep his hands off of me. It’s like baring his soul to me, sharing everything, has freed him from this burden he carried for far too long.
I can only hope that it continues, that both of us find the redemption and solace in everything we’re about to do. We’ll never be able to go back in time and correct everything that went wrong, but from this point forward, we can set things right with our families, our friends and with our relationship and ourselves.
It’s still early, but I send Jack a text anyway.
Me: Can you meet me at my house tonight around 9:00?
Jack responds almost immediately and I know he’s already in the office. I’m sure he’s trying to make up for my absence over the last few days and after what happened yesterday, he has to know I won’t be in today either. I feel guilty for wanting to leave my job and leave Jack, especially after all the bullshit he’s put up with from me over the last nine years. He didn’t have to give me a job, he didn’t have to tolerate me, but he did and he did it without question.
