I'm playing the new Need To Breathe album for Ben. Watching him absorb the music as it plays softly through the patio speakers. He's in his black track pants and an old and faded Dimmu Borgir tee that he's owned at least twenty years if not longer. He needs a haircut and a shave. He needs someone to steady his cup as he raises his coffee to sip in between stanza changes in the songs.
He's going to need a cane, for balance, soon. Now, probably but emotionally this isn't happening and so we've switched to not leaving him alone much and so de facto we become each other's watchers. I can keep him upright, he can keep me in reality.
He's always been so good at that with his incredibly global warped perspective that never lends itself to pedestrian, small shit. I know he won't resist for long. I know I'll make Caleb pay for this too. I know we're all getting old and we all have a host of strange new physical things.
He holds his cup out to the table but he's still four inches away and I reach forward and take it, setting it on the glass coaster. He won't meet my eyes when I do this.
Awfully nice to be able to look after someone else for once.
Don't, Bridge.
The cup is not the important thing here. The important thing is that you're still here and that's all I care about.
He said much the same thing to me except cup was arm when he cared for me after Trey dislocated my elbow so far the wrong way it was hanging by a muscle. Ben was just happy Trey didn't kill me in his rage.
God. It's been over fifteen years since we walked down the back lane between the weathered grey fences with their lilac trees colouring the neighbourhood a shade of lavender I would grow to love. I plated a small lilac tree here, it's now nine feet tall and it never fails to remind me of our walks in the prairies.
It's different.
How? Someone hurt you by mistake but it's permanent. That's it. Don't get hung up on details.
It's hard when you leave him and come back to us. He hurt me, he hurt you. He's hurt everyone and yet there he is.
It's complicated.
Then don't get hung up on..details, Bee. It took him a bit to find the words but then he spat them out with a frustration I never hear from Ben.
What do you want me to do?
Nothing. I don't want you to do anything. Nevermind. Just don't..let them make jokes if I have to use a cane.
They wouldn't-
Someone might. We're all bitter, Bridge. No one thinks before we talk anymore.
Since when? No one will say a word about it. You watch.
I watch everyone get away with whatever they want because I'm not a..threat anymore. He takes his cup and moves to take a sip but his other hand has to steady it first. My heart breaks. I want to shove him in a room and bar the door and keep him safe. Not something I ever thought I would think when it comes to Ben. He's not scary anymore ever. Just sweet, but then again, he's always sweet with me.
It doesn't matter. What matters is that you and I are here together. Big picture, remember? Burning building, Ben. It's you. That's never going to change.
Everything changed and I can't keep track.
I pick up my phone. Group message. Within five minutes everyone is here. Around us. In a hug. Holding Ben in a fellowship I am barely a part of for being crushed in as another subject of their support. Caleb takes a step closer and takes Ben into a fierce hug.
Tell me what I can do, he says. Tell me how to fix everything.
I don't know. Ben breaks down. I don't fucking know but you broke it good.