• BENNY’S STORY
    --Part Two--

    Waking up in a hospital with no idea of what was going on, light streaming in through the curtained window, weird things attached to my arms and chest monitoring pulse and bloodstream and all sorts of medical what-not with no idea of why I was still alive is not how I ever intend to wake up again.

    Yeah. I can still remember that, Mom. That weird disorientation of first waking up and seeing nothing but white hospital walls and slowly beeping machinery, and then realizing that I had failed in my mission. I was still alive.

    It was really strange, Mom, that first recognition of being alive. You’d think most people would have a huge surge of relief, of gratitude towards the doctors. But no. I was only tired. Really tired, with a sort of muted anger running through my system at the realization of failure. Most people would be happy. Not me.

    Being alive meant that I might still have to deal with Brenda. And I really didn’t want that, Mom. For obvious reasons. You remember my other letter. After that night…after Brenda broke my heart.

    Oh, yeah. Liam. I had almost forgotten. The despair that gripped me around the chest like a fist was a familiar one. Liam. Despair is weird…depressing at one moment, a welcome release the next. I always felt better after wallowing around in that icky black goo for a while. I don’t know why. Probably one of those “unstable” things.

    But thinking about Liam made me exhausted, tired beyond words and reason, unable to really do anything about it. I still didn’t understand. My neck felt sore where the rope had bit into it, tied tightly onto the fixtures for my ceiling fan. I had jumped off the chair, and I remember that it hurt, and I remember my vision fading first into bright white light, then only black. I took it to mean that I had died, Mom. And with that realization came relief, the flooding kind that most people would accociate with not dying. But not me.

    I don’t know how long it took for you to realize I was awake. You were in the room, reading, probably one of those romance novels so many are reading nowadays. I wanted water, it was nowhere to be found. I wanted information, I wanted to tell you, my mom, everything about what had happened. A weird moment of insecurity, I guess.

    But soon enough, a nurse came into my room. Her expression was at first surprised, then wary, then confused. It finally settled on warm and forgiving. “How are you feeling, dear? I’m surprised you’re awake already.” I tried to speak but found my voice wouldn’t work quite right. It came out raspy and barely above a whisper. You looked up sharply when the nurse came in and let out a relieved sigh. And then you started to cry, quietly, and I couldn’t understand why.

    “Whuh…” It was pretty much all I could say. I wanted to say something along the lines of “What am I doing here still alive? I want water, and I want to know why.” But since all I could manage was “Whuh” I guess that one was out of the question.

    It took a moment, but you realized what I wanted. Maybe it was the pantomime of drinking something, but she figured it out and told the nurse, who left the room, saying, “I’ll be RIGHT. BACK.” In a way that made me feel like a very small child. She left quickly, a flicker of something like fear crossing her face. She was afraid of me or something, Mom. I guess it’s not every day that the little hospital on the corner of Hunky Dory and Peachy Boulevards gets a psych ward-worthy patient who tries to commit suicide. That again, Mom. Why was I still here? The last thing I could remember was the chair and the rope around my neck, Mom. It didn’t make sense.

    I stared at the ceiling, confused and crying silently like I had been doing for so many years now until the nurse came back, with water. I remember you wiping the tears off my cheeks before asking the nurse for some privacy. She left. I drank the water, cleared my throat and started again. “What am I doing here?” I asked quietly, afraid to say any more.

    You seemed to understand the question, understand the weight of my words. “It was Mrs. Tulley. From next door. You know her, sweetheart?” I nodded, sort of ashamed and afraid to speak. Mrs. Tulley was your everyday nosy neighbor. The kind with seven cats and the long neck just perfect for looking over fences. “Well…she saw…what happened…from her kitchen window. You see, apparently, it has a view into your bedroom. She saw you with…with the rope and…and…” You stopped and started to cry harder. I didn’t…couldn’t…say anything. “And she ran over, and almost knocked down the front door, she was banging so hard…” You laughed at that point, a bitter laugh, and could almost see the memory of little old Mrs. Tulley with her too much makeup and her too little sanity, standing there with one of her cats draped around her neck like a boa. “She told me that…that I needed to see you…and at first I didn’t understand. At first, I thought you were doing something teenagery—like watching porn or smoking or something. But…but I didn’t expect…oh, Benny…it was so horrible, seeing you there like that. I just screamed, and your father came running…and it was all just out of control.” You stopped for a moment, taking a few deep, ragged breaths. “And when the ambulance came, you were unconscious. Your dad never stopped the CPR. When the EMTs got there, they took over…and all I could think was “Benny, Benny, not my Benny…why, Benny, why?”…and then…sweetheart…then I found your letter.”

    I took a deep breath of air and swallowed hard. You were sobbing, and I was crying, too, but silently, with tiny gulps of air in between. “I read it about nine hours ago.” You looked down at the book you were holding, and I realized that the pages of my letter to you were tucked into the back. They looked ragged—like they had been folded and unfolded many times. “I just wish you had told me sooner, sweetheart.” You said that last bit quietly, and didn’t say anything for a long time. I was lost for words, with no idea what to say and not sure that even if I did know, if I would speak at all.

    You looked back up at me. “I…I don’t know if I should tell you this right now, just after you woke up, but he told me to tell you as soon as possible.” You looked at me hard, then, with a sort of gaze that looked just as angry as it did sorry, and forgiving, and loving, all at the same time. It was a mix of pained, throbbing emotions that I never want to see on your face again. “Liam called.” I took a deep, painful, gasping breath. “He said he wanted to talk to you, and when I told him what you…what had happened, he stopped talking and hung up. He called back later to apologize to me and ask if you were awake yet. I told him that you weren’t and he said to have you call him if…when…when you woke up.” You sighed. “After reading that letter I don’t know…I don’t know what to tell you. But if you feel like you can trust him, call him.” You took a breath and spoke quickly. I have no idea, but I had probably made a pained face. “You don’t have to do it now, but from what I remember of that boy is that he is a good kid.” You shrugged. “But then again…so much time has changed people more unchangeable than he is. It’s up to you.”

    You stopped again, and bit your lip, seeming to hover undecidedly, like you were trying to decide whether or not to say something. It involved a lot of mouth-moving action, with no sound coming out. Finally, you put your hand on my arm. “Just…Benny…Please, please, please NEVER do that to me again.” You said forcefully, looking at me pleadingly. “Never again. Because…Bethany Carmen Torres. If you ever do something like that again, I will kill you.” You laughed. “Wrong word choice, right?” And then you burst into tears all over again.

    You called Dad after that, and he came from work, where I don’t want to know what kind of awkwardness he went through. The entire process was done over again, the crying, the explaining, the apologies that I finally managed to choke out. You remember that day, Mom. I know you do. GOD, I hope you know how sorry I am about that day. You both stayed with me in shifts because the doctors wanted to keep me about the abrasions on my neck, just to make sure it wasn’t going to cause permanent damage to my vocal chords or my throat or whatever.

    At some point during that day I went back to sleep. When I woke up again, you were on the phone, talking quietly to whoever it was you were talking to. I drifted off again quickly. The next time I woke up it was neither you nor Dad sitting in the chair next to my bed. For a moment, I didn’t recognize him. But when he sat up and said, “Oh my God…Benny…I…” he stopped and bit his lip and everything instantly snapped back into focus. When had Liam gotten here?

    I sat up slowly, never taking my eyes off of him, not knowing what to say. I seemed to have a serious loss for words that day. Liam just looked back at me, guilt and sorrow written in every plane of his face. He didn’t say anything for a long time, just the two of us staring at each other. He was the one who finally broke the silence. “Benny.” He said simply. I swallowed. “I’m sorry…I…I don’t know what happened. I do know…” it was his turn to swallow hard. “I do know that you saw Brenda…and me…on the porch. You have to understand, Benny…Brenda is…Brenda’s a b***h. There’s no way I would do something like that, you know that, right?” At that point Liam was pleading, Mom. I felt sorry for him but still couldn’t speak. “It was right when you pulled up. Brenda just grabbed me and shoved me against the fence.” He sighed. “I had no say in the matter and it wasn’t until you drove away that she let go and just walked away.” He put his hand on mine and I unintentionally flinched. He moved his hand away again, biting his lip. “Benny, please, I know you probably don’t believe me…but everything I said at that party was true. I still like you. I really, really do. You’re a wonderful person, and the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” Liam sighed again. “This sounds stupid. You probably don’t ever want to see my face again.” Liam looked back up at me and said urgently. “And if you never want to see me again, I understand. I’ll leave, and never bother you again. But if you forgive me, please, I’m still here. And I’ll be here forever. Don’t let things get that bad in your mind again, Benny. Tell someone. Tell me. Just don’t leave like that again. Please.” Liam stared into my eyes for a long time. I stared back, too caught up in a whirlwind of emotions to speak. You know how in the cliché relationships, the girl never listens to the guy about something that happened that’s tearing apart their relationship? Well I was determined not to let that happen with us, Mom. So I didn’t let that happen. Didn’t say anything.

    But I did. Finally. Finally, Mom, I told him. “It’s okay.” I said. “You don’t owe me an apology. If anyone needs to be saying they’re sorry, it’s me.” I sighed, taking a chance and slowly picking up his hand in mine. “I did something stupid. It happened…I hope it’s over…but I’m insane so I don’t know if you still want to see me. Frankly, I’m surprised you even walked in here on your own.” I laughed bitterly. “How did you know, anyways?”

    Liam looked at me and gave me that smile. That lopsided one. The one I love. “Your mom called.” He said quietly.

    And most teenage girls would be annoyed, or even angry at their mothers for intruding like that. But I’m not, Mom. Thank you.

    Liam and I sat there for a long time, once again talking. He never once said anything about the incident, about the bruises on my neck, but I could see it in his eyes that he understood what I had done, what I had been forced to do by a bee-otch named Brenda. Somewhere in there he kissed me again, and I’m glad to say that we patched things up, Mom. I’m really glad.

    Later on, the doctors came in to look at my neck, along with you and Dad checking on me. I don’t think you were surprised to see Liam there, but I know Dad was. I got moved to the psychiatric ward the next day, where I was given a prescription for antidepressants, a semi-used laptop borrowed from the school so that I could stay updated, a new room, a new group of tests and machines, and a new beginning. I’m very, very, very glad to say that I got better, Mom. Thanks to you and Dad and Liam.

    About a month or two later I went back to school, back to the life and people I knew before. I constantly got weird looks in the hallways, whether it was because the story had gotten around about my suicide attempt (which it had) or the fact that I was walking around wearing yellow instead of black and I had cut my hair shorter and layered it to get my hair out of my eyes, I didn’t know. A lot of people had never seen my strikingly blue eyes before, and I was told, both by Liam and by you, that when I smiled my face lit up in a way it never had before. I was definitely feeling better. My first couple weeks were fine, the only low points being passing Brenda in the hall, who pretended not to see or hear me.

    Liam and I stayed together, Mom, as you well know.

    Everything was perfect for a while, and I got asked out by at least four different guys who I had to explain to that I had a boyfriend, feeling sorry for them but telling them that they had serious courage to ask out a girl they hardly knew. One of them was Chase, Brenda’s boyfriend, which seriously surprised me. Apparently they had broken up after the whole incident. Brenda had spent so much time seething about me and Liam that she had accidentally blown off five of their dates, at which point Chase split up with her. He was instantly taken again (after asking me) by a very sweet girl named Izzy who was the current captain of the chess team.

    As for Brenda…the story goes that after my whole attempted-suicide fiasco, Brenda acted like she didn’t care, seeming that since I wasn’t dead, I wasn’t her problem. But the real story got out, that it was pretty much Brenda’s fault that I had almost died, and her social status plummeted. She now sits by herself in a far corner of the cafeteria, eating her feel-better cheeseburgers and fries by the pound. Apparently her amazing ability of eating-whatever-she-wants has worn off—as they usually do—and she sports an uppage of both pants and shirt sizes along with a king-size worthy zit just above her left nostril. She always looked so…evil at that table in the back.

    Which was surprisingly where I found myself setting my lunch tray one afternoon about three months after the incident. I was calm and collected, and decidedly cool about what I was going to do. Of course, Brenda started it out by being her rude self… “So you’re coming back to me, now, psycho patient?” She asked. I shook my head. That had been one of the hardest things to let go of back in the ward.

    Apparently…I was a little more than depressed. I had a certain sort of insanity called dementia, as you well know, Mom. People who can’t keep a grip on life usually find someone to keep their grip for them, resulting in a kind of fanatic obsession with one person—that one person is God in their eyes: always right, does nothing wrong, rules over the universe. For me, it was Brenda. After I got on a different type of medication specifically for dementia and I had spent a long time talking to psychoanalysts about my problems, they had gradually gotten me to let go of Brenda. That was hard, Mom. It was really hard.

    But I did. As time showed. But back in that lunchroom, I was really letting her go. After her first snide comment, I simply shook my head. “Brenda.” I began. “You used to hold me to this Earth as the only sane thing in my life.” She opened her mouth to speak and I held up my hand. “Shut up and listen to me.” I said quickly. Brenda closed her mouth. “I didn’t realize it, but I was like a puppet to you. ‘Benny, do this,’ ‘Benny, do that,’ all the time, all places, every second of my life. And I just want you to know that you were wrong. About me, about Liam, about yourself, about everything. If I had died, it would have been your fault! Surprisingly, I don’t blame you. Dementia isn’t always the easiest thing to catch, especially a case as small as mine. So when all of that…happened…it just happened. I’m here right now to tell you that I forgive you, even if you don’t think you did anything wrong. And you can’t control me anymore, Brenda. I’m cured now, at least, I’m healing. I needed you at one point in my life and now I can finally tell you goodbye. So goodbye, Brenda. I hope I never see you again.”

    I stood up to leave. “Benny, wait!” Brenda said quickly. “Sit down, with me, and we can talk for a while. Maybe things can go back to the way they were. We’ll be besties again!” She said, crossing her fingers together to show just how close we were. I don’t know if you noticed my sarcasm, Mom. “And…you never really want to never see me again, do you?”

    I looked at her, saying nothing for a long time. “Please?” Brenda added. At that point I knew what she was doing. She wasn’t apologizing, she was trying to save her reputation. If I went back like a dog with my tail between my legs she would just run off to her friends and tell them this sob story about our tearful reunion and how we were the best of friends again. But I wasn’t gonna let that happen.

    “You know what, Brenda?” I said finally. “You’re a b***h.” And with that I picked up my stuff and headed away from her, back to Liam and back to my life. And I’m proud to say that I never looked back.

    Anyways, Mom, life went on. Brenda stayed unpopular. Liam and I went to college and stayed in touch, seeing each other often when we could. I don’t know where Brenda went, but I do know that I saw her in the magazines a couple years ago. Apparently she tried to go Hollywood and failed miserably, some scandal with some director and her putting her in the spotlight for five minutes and then covering her up with dust. I haven’t heard from her in years.

    Like I said, life went on. It’s been seven years since then, and that night about three months ago where Liam told me we were just going out on a date and then dropped to one knee happened. The night where we told you we were getting married happened. The days where we planned out our wedding happened, and I know more days are still to come.

    Mom, I have you to thank for my happy ending. For my survival, the reason I’m still here. On the night before Liam and I get married, I’m writing this letter to you. The girls I met at college and around town here in Chicago are waiting to take me out to some bar or something for my last night of being…not married. A bachelorette party. Oh, God. I think you deserve to know everything that went through my head.

    A couple weeks ago, I found Brenda again. She’s somewhere in California, doing God-knows-what to get by. I sent her an invitation to the wedding. I don’t know if she’s coming.

    Either way, I’m happy right now, and I know I will be for a long time.

    We’re welcoming Liam into our family tomorrow.

    Liam and I are getting married.

    I still can’t believe it.

    My tears hurt, burn, as they come out.

    I love you.

    I’ll visit on the holidays.

    Goodbye…

    Or should I say…

    See you.

    Soon.


    +-+-+-+-+-+- END PART TWO -+-+-+-+-+-+

    --End of Benny Torres—soon to be Benny Kernechovski—’s Story--