I'll Burn With You (MXM)

Chapter 18 : Benjamin

Wiping his eyes, Ben stared out at the early morning sky, the colors washed out and dull against the browning landscape. He moved to checking over the inventory, rearranging the stock on the shelves and under the counters, resetting displays and...preparing. Ben counted the money to ensure nothing was taken during the night.

The front door opened. Ben glanced up to find his father staring.

"What're you doin'?" he asked, knocking the door closed with his foot. The day was new, yet his voice was already tinged with annoyance.

He averted his eyes. "I – counting," he stammered, a collection of crinkled one-dollar bills in his hand. Ben placed them down on the countertop, spreading his hands against the surface. His head swam.

Mr. Price approached the register, his eyes dropping to the money stacks. The ledger open to the previous night, a pen underlined where he had counted and written the total amount of money left behind once the shop closed. The page was tallied and marked all over. "I'm surprised, Benjamin," his father whispered. "I assumed you would have a little more faith in your father."

Ben took in a breath, anxiety burning in his stomach. An emptiness burning in his stomach.

"I assume you've taken care of –" He stopped himself, glancing around the shelves. "Did you rearrange?"

After a moment, Ben nodded. His knees wobbled.

"Is this what you've been doin' when you come in so early?"

He leaned forward, head spinning. Ben gulped down air before asking, "I...wh-what?"

"Benjamin?" Mr. Price stepped forward, his eyes narrowed. He said something Ben did not understand.

His eyes unfocused, an inhale so loud in his ears he almost failed notice his father's reaction, eyes growing wide, hands outstretched, reaching for him.

The world turned off-kilter, sliding down along the cabinet backs.

Ben never watched the sky finally turn blue.

"Mental exhaustion 'nd malnutrition," was what the physician said, commenting on how thin and gangly his limbs were. Ben burned red under Dr. Ablin's comments as he replaced his medical instruments, even as he moved on to giving his mother the diagnosis – hearty foods, plenty of exercise, fresh air. He gave her the papers for his exercise routines to be completed. He was not allowed to return to work until he was deemed healthy.

Mr. Price returned to the shop.

Mrs. Price, after moving the chaise to the back porch, sat her son down in the dining room, so viscerally cold and dark. His first meal was a too-big portion of beef stew swimming with vegetables, warm with white wisps and radiating. She sat with him, making sure he ate it all, her hands on him in some form; stale bread for dipping sat beside it. The woman nearly started spoon-feeding him when he did not immediately dive into it.

Ben stomached as much broth and a piece of bread as he could handle before pushing it away. How could he phrase "I am not hungry" without going against the doctor's orders, without sounding ungrateful for her trying?

His mother pushed back.

They were still at the table, sitting in pained silence, when his siblings started returning home, the stew now gone cold. His eyes were stained red, puffy, as were hers. She pleaded with him to eat; Ben curled into himself, ashamed.

"Sarah, let him be," his father grumbled. "If he wants t' become an invalid, let him."

"August," she snapped, "how dare you talk about our son that way."