The End of All Things Beautiful

by Nikki Young

  It’s taken me a long time to realize it, but he loves me and he just might have been the reason I lasted this long.

  Jack: Sure. What’s going on? Do you want to meet me at the office instead?

  I chose my house because it’s intimate and this is now about my relationship with Jack as my brother and not my boss. He’s deserving of knowing why I behaved the way I did for all these years and I also owe him an apology, one that no matter how many times I say it, it will never be enough.

  Me: I’ll explain tonight and nope, my house. I’ll text you later on to make sure we’re not running behind.

  Jack: Ok. I won’t ask any questions. J

  I smile at his last text; this is the one time that I want him to ask questions, I want him to know everything.

  It takes us about four hours to get up to Ann Arbor and the closer we get to the scene of the accident, the more the tension in the car builds. Neither of us has been back to the scene since it occurred and that’s exactly what we’re about to do. But this time, we’re together and there are no lies between us, no uncertainty.

  Benji reaches over and takes my hand, bringing it to his lips; he kisses it as he waits a long second before speaking. “It’s okay,” he says softly.

  And I want it to be okay. I want to hear his words and know he means them; that we will be okay. Together.

  Benji pulls off to the side of the road and it looks the same as it did nine years ago. I look down at the floorboard of the car and I’m hit with far too many memories at once. Things I’ve kept from myself, things that only find their way back to me in my nightmares and while they’re not all bad, that doesn’t mean they don’t hurt like a bitch.

  I can see Benji at nineteen, holding me in his arms, pleading with me to get in the car, a smile gracing his face and remembering how hard it was to say no to him. I was anxious but with it came the feeling of normalcy knowing I was surrounded by the people I loved. I don’t think I told any of them enough that I loved them. Maybe I feel that way because I’ll never have the opportunity again.

  I said it to Kelly regularly. Leaving for class, writing her a note to let her know where I was, when she’d go home for the weekend, leaving all of us. “I love you,” we’d say as one of us would part, but it became like saying goodbye. It had lost its meaning. I’d take back every single one of the times I’d said it, if I could have one more moment where we heard each other say it, where we knew it was the truth.

  It always made Sam uncomfortable so I said it all the time. I’d scream it across campus when I saw him, I’d throw myself in his arm and kiss his face, telling him over and over until he’d laugh and say it back. We teased each other; it was part of who we were, part of our relationship. But I hope he knew I meant it. I meant it every time.

  I can still recall the feel of Tommy’s hand on my thigh when he slid into the seat next to me; the soft squeeze he gave it that made me giggle and the way his lips felt when he kissed the top of my head. I can hear his voice and feel him like it was just yesterday. His voice always had a soothing quality to it—quiet and reserved. I loved it. I loved him.

  My tears are warm against my cold skin as they roll down my cheeks. I didn’t intend to cry, but there are points when I no longer control my body and its reaction to things. This is one of them.

  Maybe I’m crying over all the things left unspoken, for the loss I feel and the wonder if I’ll ever feel whole again. Benji’s return has helped, but there will always be a piece missing, three actually, in both of us. Because when I look over at Benji, he feels it too.

  “You ready?” Benji asks, as he kisses my hand that is still laced with his. The touch of his lips sends a shiver up my spine and I grow cold.

  “Yes,” I say, nodding my head.

  No.

  I’ll never be ready.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  We step out of the car, the air cold against my already cool skin and I shudder at the sting as it hits my face. But I know it’s more than that; it’s not just the cold air, but all of it coupled with where we are and what we’re about to do.

  Benji meets me in front of the car, like he knows it’s going to be a struggle for me to walk any farther without him close to me. Of course he knows this, because I imagine he’s struggling too. His arm slips around my waist and pulls me against his side, kissing the top of my head.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” I ask through a shaky voice, my words swallowed by the eerie silence of the road. It’s deserted like it was that day, but something about its lack of noise seems peaceful, yet still somehow uncomfortably silent. The road is now repaved and the shoulder gravel packed firmly, undisturbed by the lack of cars that travel this route. All of it hiding what once happened here. Forgotten.

  But not really.

  Benji’s arm tightens around my waist and he stops short of where the shoulder meets the road. We both look around, but I can sense he feels more than I do. I remember very little about the accident, really. I remember only a few details from the night in general. Although I can still picture what it looked like. While, what the cars looked like and seeing Sam’s body is something I will never be able to forget, but the majority of it is lost. Sometimes I wonder if that’s a good thing, but I also know it’s not, because my brain likes to fill in the missing details and at times they are horrific.

  “We were coming from the east,” Benji starts, pointing in that direction as he turns our bodies to face the way the car was traveling. “The other car was coming around this curve.” Again he points, angling his hand around to show the curve of the road.

  In the dark of that night it all looked so different, scary and ominous, but here in the light of day, nine years gone, it looks like any old road, like it could be anywhere in the United States, like it doesn’t have death marring it. It also doesn’t look like the kind of road that is known for causing accidents. It doesn’t have steep hills or blind curves or an extended straightaway that would make speed a factor. Yet both cars were speeding that night, both cars took the curve too fast, and one of the drivers was drunk. All of those factors played into what happened, what could’ve easily been avoided, but somehow came together like fate, an ugly, cruel fate.

  “I only know what Tommy told me, but he said we hit the other car head on.” Benji’s words are quiet and although there isn’t a soul around, it’s like he’s whispering so no one but me hears. “The car then spun around and hit this light pole.” He motions to a new pole that has been put up in place of the old one. It’s surreal once again, as if nothing ever happened here. They just come along and clean it all up, replace the broken parts, cart away the damage and all the broken glass becomes part of the road. Like it never happened.

  Blissfully unaware.

  But again, not really.

  “The windows shattered when we hit the other car,” Benji says continuing with the story and I interrupt him.

  “I remember that,” I say, and it’s almost a relief that I remember something that really happened, that it hasn’t been created by my mind or filled in to make the story that plays in my head complete. I look up at him and he nods his head.

  I can feel Benji’s breath against my hair, the cold air makes it come out ragged and labored, but I know that isn’t the only reason. This is painful for him too, maybe even more painful for him because he remembers it all.

  “Tommy told me that he thinks when we hit the light pole…” Benji stops shy of finishing his sentence, turning me in his arms until I’m flush against his body. Both his arms wrapped around me in an embrace that says he needs me, he needs to be as close as possible.

  “He saw Sam’s head hit the pole because the windows were gone. He thinks that’s what killed him,” he spits out suddenly. “He said he looked like a rag doll.” Benji’s chin is now resting on the top of my head, his arms cinched around me so tightly, it’s almost hard to breathe. And as if he realizes it, his hold loosens, but returns again as he begins to speak.

 
“The side of his head was all bloody. I mean, it was obvious he was dead,” he says with little emotion to his voice, and I don’t think he’s being heartless. He’s trying to separate what he feels to keep it from hurting too much.

  I pull him closer to me, my arms around him and I press up on my toes to kiss his neck. I leave my lips there and we stand together, silently mourning the loss of our friend, along with the loss of our innocence. Something we never did, something we needed to do.

  We don’t discuss what made him decide to leave Sam and there are times I think I want to know what his thought process was, what he and Tommy talked about, but then there are other times I’m glad I wasn’t the one who ultimately made the decision. None of it weighs on me like it does him. I have my own issues, my own insecurities over the whole thing and maybe it’s selfish of me not to want to know and not to ask, but I leave it alone. I also often find myself wondering if he even knows why we left. If it was just one of those choices that doesn’t make any sense and you have no idea what drove you to do it. Fear, in this case would be my only guess.

  When we finally separate, we walk down the road a few feet to the place where the other car came to rest. We both stop, but say nothing as Benji’s hand slides down my arm and entwines with mine.

  “It was a family,” Benji says, again his voice a hushed whisper that is nearly lost in the wind. “They had two boys, I’d guess they were six and four. I don’t know,” he adds, but it’s almost like he feels horrible for even speculating on any of it. “He would’ve died anyway, at least that’s what I tell myself. It’s a lie. Maybe he would’ve lived.”

  I look up and see Benji’s face as a stray tear escapes from his eye and his jaw tenses. Without thinking, I rest my hand on his cheek, my thumb brushing away the tear and he leans into my touch.

  I wish I knew what to say to ease his pain. I wish I had the words to take away everything that happened and make his world right again. But I have nothing. I can only give him myself and hope that I’m enough; that I’ll always be enough for him.

  “How can you not hate me?” he asks, but he’s angry now and it breaks my heart.

  “Benji,” I murmur, the tears now falling. “I don’t hate you. I couldn’t. Ever. I love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.” I can’t believe he would ever doubt how I feel about him or think I could feel that negatively toward him. “I see past all of this,” I say holding his face in my hands, making sure he sees me. “And I know you’re a good person and your choice back then won’t dictate your life, it won’t dictate our life together.” I hope he hears me, hears the truth in everything I’m saying, but he turns away from me. It’s crushing.

  “We checked each one of their pulses, made sure they were dead,” he says, cold and emotionless. “We watched that boy bleed out. Now how do you feel about me?” he asks, and I know what he’s doing.

  “Stop it, Benji. You’re not going to push me away. I’m not leaving and you’re not the person who did those things, you never were.” I take his face in my hands so he’s looking at me again and I can see that as much as he’s trying to hide it, this is killing him. All of this is killing him. He’s not angry; he’s beside himself with grief and guilt. “I love you,” I tell him, his face still in my hands. I tell him again and again until he’s crying, his face buried in the curve of my neck.

  “I need you, Campbell,” he mumbles. “More than I ever thought possible. Don’t ever leave me,” he begs, and with each word, a stuttered cry leaves my mouth.

  “Never,” I whisper, stroking his hair as he hugs me tightly. “I’ll never leave you again.” Knowing I need him as much as he needs me.

  We have one more stop to make before we head back to Chicago to meet up with Jack. It’s a place Benji suggested we go and at first I was adamant that we don’t. I didn’t think I could handle it, but this is about facing what happened and this is part of it. Benji pulls into the cemetery parking lot and I feel my stomach drop to the floor.

  “I came here once, right after the accident. With Tommy,” Benji adds as we exit the car. Due to the cold weather, the cemetery is also empty.

  We did our research before we left. It’s strange what you can find on the internet, the gravesites and cemetery locations of the deceased. It also wasn’t hard to find out their names, the accident was all over the newspapers after it happened and Benji tells me, their names will be something he never forgets.

  It takes us a little while before we finally locate what we’re looking for, but when we do, it’s more difficult to take in than I thought. Seeing their names on the grave markers, all four together, the dates literally set in stone.

  Final.

  There will be nothing more for any of them and seeing it all, what we did, what we created when all five of us made the worst choice of our lives, it’s scary as hell. How quickly it can all end and what it did to our lives and theirs.

  There is no salvation in standing here; it just makes everything even more real. I’m not sure what we thought we would accomplish by coming here, but it has just added to our guilt and our hatred for what we’ve done. Maybe that’s all part of coming to terms with this or maybe it’s something we should’ve avoided. It’s too late now.

  Neither of us says a word, we just stare at the names on the grave markers, as we stand hand in hand. I can’t look at Benji and it’s not because of what he shared with me. It’s because I know when I see his face I’ll start to cry.

  This is all extremely overwhelming and up until this point these people were just part of a memory I had that was hazy and broken. But now, seeing it in front of me makes these people real. They had lives, families and friends. We took that from them. They could’ve easily been Jack or Alex and Annie, people I work with, or people Benji and I know. They were someone’s brother, sister, son, daughter, or grandchild. They were parents and the only solace and small bit of comfort I find in any of this is that they died together. But that doesn’t mean they didn’t suffer, that their families and friends didn’t suffer too.

  That Benji and I won’t suffer with the reality of it all.

  We will. We probably always will.

  We say our goodbyes, as much as we can to a family we didn’t know, but whose life we ruined. There’s an apology in there too, but it doesn’t matter. The damage is done.

  The sky has begun to grow dark as the day fades to night. I shudder in Benji’s arms as we walk together back to the car. The way the night falls makes it seem like it’s covering everything we’ve done with black as if it’s now behind us. I want it to be, but as much as much as I want it, I know it will always be a part of us.

  Before we climb in the car, Benji takes me in his arms and we hold each other, just finding the comfort that only we can bring to each other.

  “Thank you,” he says, and my eyes close. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  It’s been a long day, filled with regret and tears, comfort and peace, and far too much guilt, but it’s not over. Far from it.

  And as Benji starts the engine, I say, “You sure you’re ready to come clean?” And without thinking about it, I take his hand in mine, covering the outside of his as I press a kiss in the center of his palm. I watch his eyes close and he takes a deep breath, readying himself to answer my question.

  Jack will be the first person we share this all with and as much as it needs to be done, it doesn’t mean it’s not absolutely terrifying.

  “I can’t live with this secret anymore, Campbell,” he says with complete sincerity. “I can’t live like this.”

  “Neither can I.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  We arrive back at my house just before nine and even though I told Jack to meet us here, I wish I’d have told him to come tomorrow instead. I’m exhausted, mentally, physically and emotionally, and I can see it all mirrored in Benji’s face too.

  “Come here,” he says as I’m walking back out of the bedroom, my body tired, but I make my w
ay to him anyway. When he opens his arms, I step into them without thinking as he pulls me against his firm chest.

  I love how we’ve fallen back into this pattern of normalcy within our relationship. It happened so quickly, but in the end it’s what I’ve always wanted. I love that he knows exactly what to do to make me feel better, to calm me and to make me feel loved.

  I know most would think it’s strange that I fell in love with him as a kid, but I knew from the moment I met him that we would be together forever. There was a part of me that missed him terribly when we weren’t together, like I wasn’t fully myself, like I wasn’t whole. How I survived these last nine years without him is almost incomprehensible and honestly, I really didn’t.

  But as we stand here together, me in his arms, I know we’re going to get through this, all of it and we’re going to do it together.

  The buzzer to my apartment goes off, causing us to separate, and Benji kisses me quickly before saying, “You ready?”

  “I guess so,” I respond, with a loose smile on my face as I try to mask the fact that I’m terrified.

  Benji smiles at me, perfect and sweet and then he reaches for me, pulling me into his arms as he laughs. “I know you’re scared. It’s written all over your face.”

  “Then stop laughing at me,” I say back, pretending to try to break free from his hold.

  “I’m not laughing at you,” he says, his fingers slipping under my sweater and pinching my side. “I’m laughing because it feels good to remember every little thing about you. Every single thing you do reminds me of how much I love you.”