Honestly Ben Page 26

  I thought it was hilarious. Rafe thought it was nauseating.

  “What can I say? I suddenly have two sons. My heart is full!”

  “Oh my God. I’m so moving in with the Carvers,” Rafe said.

  I said, “Yes! Next on Fox: Parent Swap!”

  I’d never lived somewhere before where you could just say whatever was on your mind at the dinner table. And suddenly I was taking it maybe a little too far.

  “I would totally watch an episode of Rafe trying to milk a cow,” I said.

  “I could milk a cow.”

  “I’m sure there are aspects of our canoodling that could translate,” I said, and Mrs. Goldberg laughed. Mr. Goldberg made a sour face.

  “Okay, then,” Mr. G. said. “In other news … ”

  “Did Ben just make Dad uncomfortable by being too out there? Did that just happen?” Rafe asked.

  I chewed and chewed and chewed my tofu. I didn’t mind the taste of the stuff, but the texture left a lot to be desired. I knew Rafe felt the same way, but when his parents believed in something—that tofu is food of the gods, for instance—there was little chance of changing their minds.

  “Can we talk about something serious?” Mrs. Goldberg said. “Or would you rather continue to freak out my surprisingly prudish husband—who certainly wasn’t such a prude back at Oberlin when—”

  “Mom!” Rafe said. “Yes, please. Something serious. Anything but that.”

  She smiled. “Ben, you’re perfectly welcome to stay here and enroll in Rangeview.” She turned to her son. “And, darling, we can re-enroll you. If you feel you’re more safe and more comfortable here, we can figure it out.”

  I studied the table in front of me. Suddenly the saltshakers in the shape of Buddha and the lilac butter dish changed before my eyes. They became palpable to me. Not like I couldn’t touch them before, but now that touch would change meaning. I could live here? Could I? Would I?

  Rafe’s stare brought me back, and we shared a wide-eyed look. I wondered what he was thinking. I wondered what I was thinking. I simply didn’t know.

  “Of course, if you boys continue to see each other, we might have Ben stay with the Caseys. Just so there’s a bit of normalcy for you both. Dating and living together so soon might be a bit much, don’t you think?”

  It was all happening so quickly, and I couldn’t put it all together. Me, living with Claire Olivia’s family? What would happen with mine? Would they cease to be my family? That thought stabbed me in the side.

  It was all too fast. All I knew was how I felt today. How was I supposed to know how I’d feel in two weeks, let alone two years? And staying here? That felt—well, it felt like something that would become a thing in my family. Like Uncle Max going away. Luke would not like that.

  “You look flummoxed, Ben,” she said. “Can you share your thoughts with us?”

  I really wasn’t sure I could. I opened my mouth but no words came out. I tried again.

  “Thank you,” I said. “You’re so nice, and you know what? I kind of love you.”

  I glanced at both Mr. and Mrs. Goldberg, and watched them share a sweet smile that felt incredibly intimate. They knew each other so well. Someday maybe I’d share looks like that with someone. Maybe even Rafe.

  “I think I need to go back to Natick and finish what I started, though. And at some point I think I’ll need to go home and work things out there.”

  Mrs. Goldberg gave me a proud smile, and that made me smile too.

  “Thank you for the offer. Really. It means a lot to me.”

  She said, “Also, I want to talk to you about PFLAG. I’d like for you to come to a meeting. It may really help with this coming-out process.”

  Mrs. Goldberg was waiting for me to respond. I looked from her to Mr. G., who at that very moment was looking at me with more affection than my dad had in a lifetime.

  “I know you don’t get this,” I said, “but I’m really not gay. I don’t feel like that.”

  Mrs. Goldberg sighed. “Jesus. I feel like I just had this conversation with Rafe.”

  “I’m not,” I said. “To me, gay means attracted to boys. I’m attracted to one boy. I’ll take gay-for-Rafe, but if I’m being honest?” I took a deep breath. “I really feel like I’m straight.”

  “I think perhaps you’re not ready to come out,” Mrs. Goldberg said, spooning some cauliflower onto her plate.

  “Aren’t these labels up to me?”

  “I know your generation is different, and I know I shouldn’t be labeling, but I must say this is a perfect example of bisexual invisibility.”

  I looked Mrs. Goldberg in the eye. She was a beautiful person, an individual. She spoke her mind. She let me speak mine. That, to me, was beautiful.

  “I love your son. Isn’t that enough?”

  She pressed her lips together in that Isn’t that sweet way. “I suppose it is.”

  I grabbed for Rafe’s hand. “This is my person. That’s all that matters.”

  Rafe squeezed my hand.

  “To me, straight and gay and bi are just words. None of them really feel like me. I’m Ben, you know?”

  “Nice to meet you, Ben,” Mr. G. said.

  “I’m Ben and I like World War II history and I grew up on a farm and I play baseball and I’m an introvert and I’m gay-for-Rafe.”

  Mrs. Goldberg smiled that beautiful smile at me.

  “All those labels are just—I think the world is more comfortable if it can put you in a box.” I was thinking about Toby and his left-handed paths, and how by coming out as gender fluid, he had really gone hard left, which takes more bravery than I have, I think. And I was thinking about what Hannah had taught me about vulnerability, which I guess means opening yourself up to being hurt. And really the kind of courage Toby showed when he chose to follow his own path was a perfect example of being vulnerable.

  “If you live outside a box, everyone gets all freaked out and tries to put you in one. No offense,” I said, looking at Mrs. Goldberg.

  She shook her head. “None taken. You’re teaching me something.”

  Rafe said, “I kind of remember us talking last semester, and you saying something about how you’d thought a little bit about guys before.”

  “Have you had fleeting thoughts about girls?”

  Rafe crooked his neck. “Sure.”

  “That,” I said, pointing. “That’s me and other boys. I’m a human being. I’m curious about lots of things. But no, before you, Rafe, never before had that really occurred to me in a real way. Never, ever. And God forbid you dump my crazy ass, my next person? I think it would be a girl.” I thought about Hannah, and I felt a pang of something in my chest.

  Rafe’s parents shared a look.

  “It’s going to take us a while to sort this out and understand it,” Mr. G. said. “Just know we love you precisely as you are, okay?”

  And in that moment, I realized I knew exactly what it felt like to come out.

  Dad,

  I’m writing this because I’m still new at this whole expressing myself “foolishness,” as you would say. I’d like to get to the point that I could trust myself to say it all in person, but I’m afraid the words would leave me and I’d be standing there, needing to tell you something but not knowing how.

  You are a good provider, Dad. I know you pride yourself on that, and you have provided for me and Mom and Luke. I appreciate that more than you know. Unlike some of the other kids at Natick, I appreciate every single thing I have. I do.

  You’re also a really difficult father to have. I’ve never said that to you before. I’ve never said most of the things I think to you before, but now I will say them. Or write them. And you can read this or not read it, but at least I will have said/written it all.

  You always say, “Don’t get a big head about it” anytime I succeed in anything. Dad, I think I can safely say I have a teeny, tiny head by now. You taught me it wasn’t okay to have pride in myself or belief in my ability, and I am angry th
at you did that. That was bad for me.

  You also taught me that my voice wasn’t important or necessary. The fewer words the better is how you are, and I don’t know if that’s really who you are or not. But I know it’s not actually who I am. I like to talk and be talked to. I like to express ideas and talk about them. I’m not afraid to disagree, and another crazy thing that’s happening now is that I’m becoming not afraid to get angry. That was always so hard. I don’t know why.

  I do know why, actually. I lied there to spare your feelings, but I need to be honest here. It’s hard for me to get angry because you taught me to walk away from conflict. You taught me to stay on the outside of any situation and look in, and the biggest problem with that is that your life becomes devoid of situations. I think the thing I’ve learned this year is that life is basically all about the situations, and I want to have a life. I don’t want to avoid everything just because it’s uncomfortable or hard. I want to live!

  I don’t know exactly what happened with you and Uncle Max, but one thing I do know is I’m not him. I know you worry that I am; I can feel it all the time. What Max and I had in common is that we’re sensitive. I know. To you that’s bad. To me that’s good. I like people who are sensitive.

  I don’t think I’m gay, by the way. I think I’m in love with my best friend, and he happens to be a guy. It’s confusing for me too. I wish we could be confused together. But you don’t like to be anything with anyone, and I can’t fix that.

  The Goldbergs have offered to let me stay in Boulder and attend school here. But I have parents and I have a brother and I go to a good school. I am grateful to have each one of those things. I’m grateful for you, Dad. I love you. Even if sometimes I don’t like you.

  So I’m not staying here, as wonderful as Colorado is. I’m coming home to you and Mom and Luke after spring break, and boy, do I hope things will get better between us. And then I’m going back to Natick, because you and I both know that I deserve a good education, and you’re not going to take that away from me because I’m not who you want me to be. That doesn’t make sense. You’re gonna have to get over that.

  I cheated. I was as surprised as you were when it happened. I didn’t think I had that in me. I don’t like that it happened, and I will work my very hardest to make sure it never happens again. If the Natick School will give me a second chance, I sure hope you will too.

  As I said, I hope things improve between us. But even if they don’t, I can promise that I will speak my mind and be who I am, even if you don’t want me to be. Because, Dad, I have the right to exist.

  Love,

  Benny

  “Hey,” I said, when Hannah picked up.

  “Um. Hey.”

  “I just have three things to say to you. Can you just listen? Please?”

  She sighed. “Go.”

  “Okay. First, I’m sorry. I didn’t think I was leading you on, but looking back, I should have been more aware. I think whatever I was feeling for Rafe was so tied up in denial that I didn’t know how strong it was. Not an excuse, just saying I’m sorry. Two, for what it’s worth, not only was I attracted to you, Hannah, but I actually like you. Like, I value your opinion and I valued your friendship. So, you’re basically a hot girl who is also extremely interesting, and you deserved better treatment. Third, if you ever, ever decide that you’re interested in a friend who values who you are on the inside, I’m here. I mean, not right now, because I’m suspended and in Colorado because my dad apparently no longer has a son, but I will be here. For you.”

  She laughed a little. “Well. I’m guessing there’s a story there.”

  “Suffice it to say that when you try to be everything to everyone, sooner or later you cheat on a math test and then admit to it in a speech in front of the whole school.”

  She laughed a little more. “Yup. That’s what tends to happen. I’m not hugely, antagonistically angry with you anymore. I’m not sure I’m up for seeing you, but maybe someday? We’ll see. You’re with the Rafe guy?”

  “Yup.”

  “Okay, then,” she said. “Yep. Not ready to talk about that.”

  “You actually changed me,” I said.

  She paused. “Do I want to hear this? About how I changed you? Is this going to hurt my feelings?”

  “No, not at all. It was that stuff about vulnerability. I think I’m definitely one of those people whose dad taught him never to be vulnerable, and that totally screwed me up. I’m trying to learn how to do it now. So thanks for that.”

  “Huh,” she said. “I can live with that.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Take care of yourself, Ben Carver, okay?”

  “You too, Hannah Stroud.”

  Rafe claimed he could teach me to swim.

  “I don’t know, Rafe. I was told once that I have the buoyancy of a, I don’t know, a really un-buoyant thing,” I said.

  He responded, “Nice metaphor.”

  We went to the Colorado Athletic Club in Boulder, which was basically the nicest place I’d ever been, yet Rafe acted like it was a nuisance to walk through. I would never get used to that sort of callousness, but that was a whole different plate of Czech dumplings.

  As we got changed in the locker room, I looked over at Rafe and saw him. Not, like, his body. Just who he was. And that made me smile. He was a good person, and I knew now I could trust him. With my life if I had to.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “You’re extremely welcome,” he said, slamming the locker shut. We walked toward the pool. “What for?”

  I threw my towel over my naked shoulder. “I’m grateful for you.”

  “Aw.”

  “No, really. Maybe all this stuff wouldn’t have happened had I never met you, but on the other hand, none of this stuff would have happened.”

  He laughed. “You speak in riddles now.”

  “I just mean, I’m glad, is all. You helped me be me.”

  “Wow. Thanks,” he said. “That means a lot. I’m grateful for you too. Before you, I had nobody beyond my parents who knew how awesome I was.”

  “Such a narcissist,” I said, and he stuck out his tongue.

  Rafe dove in, and I got splashed a bit. Then I gingerly took the steps into the shallow end. The water was lukewarm, which surprised me. I sat on the top step and adjusted to the wetness on my lower body.

  “C’mon. I’m gonna teach you to swim,” he said.

  I shook my head. “Nope. No, thanks. I’m fine going through the rest of my life without swimming. There are some things I’m good at, and this is not one of them.”

  “C’mon,” he said, coaxing me off the steps. “I’m here, and I’m going to teach you to float. I won’t let you sink.”

  I tentatively walked toward him, as if the water were my enemy. Rafe just looked at me, bemused. He crossed his arms and picked his feet off the floor and treaded water, making it look easy.

  When I got to him I was up to my chest. He turned me around, goosed my butt, and put his hands on my back. Slowly I allowed myself to lean back onto his hands. I picked my feet up off the floor and held my breath, sure I’d go under, that I’d be too heavy for Rafe to carry.

  I wasn’t.

  He was holding me up!

  Then he took me out a little deeper, and soon he was treading water while holding me. I saw the 8 FOOT sign, and I thought, Wow. All that had happened in the last few months had changed me, changed my body. Taken weight off my shoulders, that sort of thing.

  “Take that deep breath. You’ll see. It’ll keep you afloat.”

  I took a deep breath. I held it. My face sunk under the water. My body began to as well.

  “Holy hell, what the heck is wrong with your body?” he said as he struggled to keep me up.

  I started to thrash my arms. I could hear him repeatedly saying, “Relax, relax,” even though my ears were submerged in the water. Rafe was keeping me afloat by treading as fast as he could, kicking underwater and waving one arm like an angry
ferret. Still, we slowly began to sink.

  “Well, this is unpleasantly ironic,” I said, water seeping into my nostrils as my nose and eyes submerged.

  “I … You mean … coincidence,” Rafe said as he attempted to pull me toward the shallow end. I heard every other word, as my ears were now underwater.

  I didn’t mean coincidence, actually, but there was no time to explain the irony—that I’d just learned to tread water in the world, and now I was drowning.

  A funny thing happens when you’re drowning and a person attempts to drag you to safety. You fight. Instinct. I thrashed and kicked, and I saw his face go under and he raised himself up momentarily and then went under again, and I thought of that scene at the end of Titanic, and wondered which of us would be barely alive on the piece of wood from the ship, and which of us would be dead.

  I had a guess. And truly, I’d rather it went that way. If one of us was going to die, let it be me. Not Rafe. Though best would be if we both lived.

  “You’re gonna have to save yourself, or tread ’til I can get some help or a kickboard,” Rafe said, his breathing labored. “In a second I’m gonna let you go. Okay?”

  I didn’t have time to say okay, though I meant it. Okay. We shared a final eye contact and I thought, Not now. Please not now. When things are finally happening in my life.

  He let me go, and just like in New Hampshire, I dropped like a stone. I hit the bottom.

  But this time, I bounced up. Maybe I had a little extra spring in my step. I don’t know. I bounced up once, almost to the surface, and the second time I hit bottom I bounced up high, and then I just moved my arms and got myself to the side.

  I grasped the side and clung to it, never so thankful to be holding on to something.

  And as I held on with all my might, and Rafe instructed me to pull myself along the ledge to the shallow end, I realized: I saved myself. Rafe didn’t. He helped, but I was the one who figured out how to swim my heavy body to safety.