Thirty-Three
“You’ve never done this before?” This is so cool! Looking at his phone, Ben backed up toward the curb.
Riley shook her head. “I didn’t even know it was here.” She squinted behind her sunglasses at the massive thirteen-foot-tall red sculpture—an HO sitting atop a PE. The pop art landmark hogged the corner of Seventh and West 53rd, and it was the sister sculpture to the LOVE design a few blocks away on Sixth. Her knotted brow released into a grin.
Ah, there’s that smile! Ben’s face lit up as he composed the perfect shot. “Say Funyuns!”
Riley laughed.
“Want a peek?” He showed her the image on his cracked screen.
She wrinkled her nose. “Not bad.”
“Not bad? It’s a masterpiece!” His smile grew as they continued north up Seventh Avenue, his head constantly swiveling, taking in the tall buildings and traffic heading in the opposite direction. “So, where are you taking me?”
“Central Park.”
“Ooh, nature!”
“I’d take you up the Empire State Building but…” She adjusted her tote on her shoulder. “I’m kinda broke right now.” Her voice faded away on the breeze.
You and me both. “Ah, no worries. I’m skint, too. I donated blood last week to get cash for my mum’s birthday flowers. Have you ever done that? It’s easy money.”
“No. I’m scared of needles.”
“Ahh, okay! That’s why you don’t have a tattoo.”
“Partially, yeah.”
“Hunter suggested I donate sperm for cash.”
Riley shot him a wide-eyed look.
“I didn’t!” Ben laughed. “Wanking on demand over a porno vid? At least take me out for drinks first!” Why isn’t she laughing? “The blood money saved me, though. I won’t get paid for another two weeks, and tips are thin on the ground. I made thirty bucks but blew most of it already. I need a second job.”
“Ben, you shouldn’t have bought me lunch.”
“I wanted to.”
They stopped at the intersection of Seventh and West 54th, their conversation halting along with the southbound traffic. Hmm, maybe New York is like London—no fun when you’re broke? He did a second take. Shit! Is her lip trembling? She’s fighting it, but she looks like she might burst into tears. Ben scratched his chin. I think I insulted her at the diner. I pretty much said she’s not shag-worthy, which actually couldn’t be farther from the truth! Fuck, Fagan. Fix this. Be kind. Be a friend. “Lunch was my thank you for letting me stay over and for going dancing. Most fun I’ve had in forever. I swear all the blokes were checking you out, and I felt like, ‘Yeah, she’s with me, suckers!’”
A tight grin flashed his way and then vanished, lost amidst the crowds crossing the street.
She keeps slipping away. Fuck, I DID insult her. “Riles, is everything okay? Did I do something?”
“You? No!” She nudged her sunglasses up her nose as they stepped underneath metal scaffolding erected around a building undergoing a facelift. She cleared her throat, but scratchiness clung to her voice. “I’m just stressed about graduation, life after…”
Phew! I didn’t hurt her.
“The pressure to find a job, pay back my loans…the future—it’s getting scary.”
“That’s why I like acting. I can pretend to be someone else for a while.”
She hugged her middle, but the comforting gesture didn’t erase the tremor in her voice or the unwanted tears collecting behind her sunglasses. “I feel like I’m about to be shot out of a cannon without a safety net.”
“I think that’s normal. We’ve all felt it—I still do.”
“I read about arts cuts, and it makes me worry I’ll never find a job. Even if I do find one, the salary will be pathetic. Mom will worry, I’ll get further in debt…”
“But won’t your internship turn into something? Didn’t Piper’s?”
“Yeah, she’s headed back to LA in October, but for me, there’s no guarantee. Everyone wants to work at the BBC—you should see the resumes my boss gets.” Her hands shifted away from her waist, her fingers spinning the ring on her right hand. “I thought I knew what I was doing but…I feel like I’m questioning everything.”
“I’m always questioning everything. I don’t think that’s bad. It keeps you on your toes.” Ben hung back for a moment, allowing a woman with a toddler to pass. Riley’s really fidgety. There’s more to this. Something isn’t right. “Riles, did something happen this week?”
Crossing her arms, she looked away. Her fingers dug into her sleeves.
“Monday, you were telling off sidewalk cyclists and drunken pricks. Where’d that Riley go?”
She swallowed a sob. “I called off my engagement—Josh and I broke up yesterday.”
Seriously? Holy shit! A spike of adrenaline made Ben straighten up. His eyes widened. “Jesus, what happened?”
“We’ve been drifting apart—well, me more than him. I fell out of love with him…months ago.”
Fell out of…months ago?! Ben’s heart clenched. She’s single…
The pavement grasped Riley’s attention. “I thought my feelings would change with the engagement, but they didn’t.” Her fingers flew under her sunglasses, dabbing away tears before they could fall.
Aw, don’t cry. He reached out to console her but pulled back before making contact. His hands didn’t know what to do. “You gave it a proper go, though, right? When you feel something in your gut…” Like I do! Oh, Riley, why didn’t you say something over lunch? Before my ‘I need a friend’ bollocks.
She sniffed and wiped her nose. “Yeah, but I was afraid to admit it.”
“At least you’re admitting it now, before it’s too late.” Fuck, should I…? Riles, give me a sign. His fingers gripped the leather bracelet on his wrist.
“That’s what everyone keeps telling me—except Erika. She thinks I’m making a huge mistake. Mom was relieved more than anything, I think.”
“Why?”
“A bunch of reasons. She thinks I’m too young to get married, and Josh wasn’t the most supportive. Everything was his career, where he wanted to live…”
“That sucks.” So does this. She took my stupid friends speech at face value. It’s out of my hands. She’s not interested in me. Dammit!
“I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s so…stupid.” Riley scrunched up her face and swiped away stray tears. “Look, can we talk about something else? Sorry, it’s…”
“Yep, absolutely! Fire away.” And shoot me now.
“Tell me about England and Scotland.”
“Oh, sure. What do you want to know?”
“What’s Scotland like?” They shifted around a vendor’s table piled high with knockoff designer purses.
“Beautiful. Old. Cold, but the people are warm. I don’t remember much about Edinburgh—we moved to England when I was six.” His eyes drifted to a cart selling hot dogs and large pretzels. “Oh, hang on. Sorry, still peckish.” He dug in his pocket for change and smiled at the seller. “Want one, Riles?”
She shook her head.
“A pretzel, please.”
The vendor stared at him. “Five bucks.”
“Five?! Nice try, buddy!” Riley glared. “Just because he’s got an accent! Ben, it’s two bucks.”
“Shit, is it? I’ve paid five every time.” Ben exchanged money and snide looks with the vendor. He took his pretzel and they walked on, Central Park’s leafless trees poking the blue sky ahead.
“When you moved, was it just you and your mom?”
“Yeah, down to Slough. It’s west of London.”
“Piper said you lived in Windsor…?”
“Yeah, but later, briefly.” He offered the warm pretzel. “Salty goodness! Go on, have a bite!”
She waved him off. “No, I’m good. So, why Slough?”
“Mum heard Ben Sr. had quit drugs and moved there. She wanted me to have a relationship with him, so she packed us up and down we went.”
“Based on what you said before, I guess it didn’t go well?”
“Nope. He wasn’t easy to find, and when she finally did track him down, he was living with some woman and their kid. He was working at the Mars factory and I got really excited—free sweets!—but I never got a single Milky Way. He never came to see me.” Ben bit the pretzel and chewed quickly.
“Did you ever meet your half—”
“Brother.” He swallowed so he wouldn’t be talking with his mouth full. “No. He’s called Ben Jr. Nice, eh? I literally got replaced with a newer model.”
“Oh God.”
“Yep.” Reaching into the bag, the pretzel’s salt stung his finger. Ow! Papercut. “As if being a little kid with a weird Scottish burr in England couldn’t get any worse. I had no dad, couldn’t spell or read well—this was before my dyslexia was diagnosed. Kids picked on me.” He sucked on his finger, washing away the salt. “My no-name secondhand PE kit didn’t help me fit in either. In my school, if you weren’t sporty or didn’t have the latest Adidas trainers, forget it. Social Siberia.”
“That’s terrible!”
“Yeah. I’d hide behind the old church next door or in the library stacks, waiting for playtime to finish. A year or two on, things were still bad, so I changed what I could. I’d never own a pair of new Adidas or have a dad, but I could lose my Scottish accent. Took a while, but I did it.”
“Oh, Ben. I can’t even imagine…”
“Slough was more expensive than Edinburgh. Mum couldn’t afford a babysitter after school, but there was a widowed OAP—”
“OAP?”
Ben’s fingers broke up the pretzel into bite-sized pieces. “Sorry—old age pensioner, a senior citizen.”
“Ah, okay.”
“Mr. Chamberlain—he lived in the flat next door. His wife died three years before we moved in and he didn’t have family. He must’ve been lonely. Mum arranged for me to stay with him until she got home from work. We’d watch TV and Mr. C would peel apples for me to snack on. Mum’s cable was always on the blink and we’d usually end up watching her old VHS tapes, so telly at Mr. C’s was a treat. He liked game shows and we’d sit and watch old American series like Diff’rent Strokes, The A-Team—”
“Mr. T!” Riley chuckled. “I pity the fool!” They both laughed.
“Retro TV shows, gotta love ’em! Everything worked out well by the closing credits.”
“Everyone’s happy, everyone’s loved. Imagine if real life were like that?” said Riley.
“Yeah…” Ben sighed. “But my fave program was from the nineties, a cheaply-made British sci-fi show called Equinox Ten. Did you get that over here?”
Riley shook her head.
“Really low budget. It had spaceships made of tinfoil and cardboard, but I loved it! I would mimic their accents over and over again, copying the way they talked, and it kinda stuck. I sounded English, eventually.”
“That’s so sad.” She pushed her sunglasses on top of her head. “I bet your kiddie Scottish accent was adorable.”
You’re adorable. Ben wistfully smiled at her. “If only I had known you then. One friend would’ve made all the difference.” He dropped his eyes to his salty street treat and cleared his throat. “Actually, Mr. C was a good friend. Not like we’d ride bikes or play console games or anything, but he was super messy, which I thought was really cool. No one made him clean up his room! Looking back, he may have been a borderline hoarder, actually. He had piles of clothes, bags of empty takeaway containers, and stacks of dusty books. I’d flip through atlases, old books about space and stars, dreaming of big adventures…” He laughed. “Some things never change.”
“He sounds like a really cool grandfather.”
“Yeah, he was. I never knew my real granddad. Mum was adopted—”
“Really?”
“Yeah, so Mr. C was the next best thing. I had a great time there. He always remembered my birthday. Every year he gave me something: a Slinky, a Rubik’s Cube, that old Operation game with the tweezers—all stuff he found buried in his flat then wrapped up.”
Riley raised her eyebrows. “No kids…but he had children’s toys?”
“Oh, he wasn’t some dodgy Child Catcher bloke! Him and his wife had been foster parents twenty years earlier and they never tossed anything. When I turned ten, he gave me an old telescope. I thought it was the coolest thing I’d ever seen.”
“Are you still in touch with him?”
He exhaled heavily. “He died a few months after that birthday.”
“Aw, I’m sorry.”
“I came home from school and he didn’t answer the door. It was weird because he was always there waiting for me. I sat outside, thinking he must’ve gone to the shops, but an hour later the cops came ’round, carrying his shopping bag full of apples and sweets. They were looking for next of kin. Mr. C had popped his clogs in the cleaning supplies aisle at Tesco—a heart attack.”
“Oh no.” Riley’s shoulders drooped.
Shit, you’ve made her sad again. Fix it, Fagan. “I mean, what was he doing there? In the four years we knew him, I never saw him dust or use a Hoover. His flat was choked with stuff. So, was it the thought of cleaning up all that crap that finished him off? We’ll never know.”
Riley pushed him, stifling a laugh. “Ben!”
“It’s true, though! I tell ya to this day, I can’t see a dustpan without getting the willies.”
Riley couldn’t hold back and burst out laughing.
Job done. “If you can’t laugh, right?” Ben winked and popped a piece of pretzel between his lips.