“What? Am I killing your buzz?”
“No, honestly, I'm just...”
“What?!”
“...ashamed!”
“Of me?”
“Of course I'm ashamed of you. You show up at my work, screaming at me, giving everyone the finger...”
“Then answer your damn phone!” His nostrils were flaring.
Benny thought her boyfriend might give it another go, start the raging all over again. She retreated quietly to the back room grabbed her keys and brought them to him.
“You know my dad doesn't want you driving my car.”
“He can suck my...”
Benny put her small hands against him and pushed him toward the door. “Pick me up at four.”
When she turned around everyone was staring at her. She was used to it. It didn't really bother her anymore, if it did, she would've left him by now. “I'm going out back for a smoke.”
Carolyn didn't bother to turn her head, “Girls, back to work.” At three-forty-five her instructor handed her a slip. “You're done.”
Benny put her smock on the desk.
“You're not going to say anything?” Carolyn waited.
“I was a cat in another life.”
“Listen, you need to lose the loser.”
“Thanks.” She hoped he was out there, but she knew more than likely, she didn't have a way home to the apartment. She couldn't stand in front of the building.
“Trip, are you coming?” She doubted he would respond the message.
She lit another cigarette and took the short way through the alley to the main road. She was surprised to see her car pulled alongside the fruit market. When she made it to the car the window was rolled down. Benny's fingers tightened on her lighter. She balled her fist around it and began punching through the opening as hard as she could at him and his slut. She didn't stop until two long bands of blonde hair were wrapped around her bloody knuckles. Trip managed to pull her off of the girl. He grabbed Benny's slippery wrist. When she freed herself he pushed the door open sending her toppling backwards. Her head vibrated when it hit.
“You stupid son of a bitch.” The throbbing left her dizzy. Trip crumpled next to her, screaming about the blood pooling underneath her. “My keys...give me my mother effing keys!”
The blurry image of the skank crawling out of the car and Trip leaving with her made Benny nauseous. She grabbed the keys beside her and dragged herself into the driver's seat. She was hoping to run them both over before she passed out, but somehow they disappeared and somehow she stayed conscious all the way to her parent's home.
“I'm not taking her in.”
“Oh that's brilliant.”
“What? If this is what she wants to do...then let her.”
“You're her father, don't you have any feelings?”
“Oh right, go ahead, blame me.”
Of course I blame you Martha said to herself. “It would be nice if one time...”
Benny opened her eyes. She saw the blurry vision of her mother.
“Darling...”
“Oh my god, Mom, my head hurts so freaking...” Benny tried to place her fingers on her chin, but she could barely lift her arm. She let her hand rest on her chest. “Mom, this is bad, really bad.”
“That's it, I'm calling an ambulance.”
Benny let the tears leak out, “It's gonna cost a lot, isn't it?” She braced her feet against the end of the couch and pushed herself onto her elbows. “I think I can make it to the hospital, if you want.”
“Okay dear,” Martha looked up helplessly at Jim.
“Oh for Christ sake!” He lurched forward and pulled her arms toward him. “Well?” he screamed at his wife.
Martha raced to her daughter's side and slid her arm around her waist. The three of them labored to the station wagon. The trio buzzed through the neatly kept neighborhood and onto the main thoroughfare.
“This is exactly what I said I didn't want to do!” He looked in his rear view mirror.
Martha bit her lower lip and turned her head to the window. She wanted desperately to roll it down and let the cool wind rush through her hair, She laid her cheek against the pane and tried not to breathe. It wasn't far, after all, she said to herself, it was faster than waiting for the EMTs. She snuck a glance over her shoulder at her daughter when she heard a gurgling noise coming from the back seat. What would she do if...she tried to let herself think about it, what they might say if... No one would understand all they had been through. They might even blame them for...delaying.
“Benny?” she whispered.
“Oh for Christ's sake, we're almost there.” Jim was livid.
Martha knew she had made a mistake saying her name like that in front of Jim. For the rest of the drive he berated his wife for putting him through this again, saying she promised they were going to walk away this time. They even put the house up for sale.
The house, the house she walked through like a ghost. The stairs she climbed in silence every night passing the empty bedroom. He forced his wife to put everything in tubs in the basement. She knew that every Monday he stole another container and put it out in the trash.
That's why she had to hide things, a life time of hiding things: receipts, cash, phone bills. Martha had a secret place for her daughter's awards under her bed. Thank God Jim had arthritis. She was free to spend time with them. She caressed them, cried over them and then stowed them carefully back in the garment box. Jim tried to sell her piano so Martha scratched it with a butter knife. He knew he wouldn't get the value of it so he forgot about it, eventually. She didn't care that he accused her of doing it on purpose. He would have blamed her, either way. Martha still hoped to hear her prodigy filling the walls, the ceiling, their home with noise, with life.
Benny wasn't moving anymore. Martha shrieked. Jim hit the gas on the circle drive.