BENJI. (a guide to being normal)

The Reality of Misunderstandings and Confessions

“I was stupid,” Benji sobbed, tossing a hand up for emphasis. “My mum left me at the orphanage. I know she was scared, but I didn’t understand why exactly, we couldn’t sorted things out. And my dad hates me for some reason except for his own self-hate. I remember.” Benji swallowed and kept the tears back. “He would shout at me, call me a ‘loser,’ and tell me how I would never be good enough for anyone. I mean, now, I think he was talking to himself through me, you know? But, I couldn’t help but believe him.”

“Benji,” Kris moved in front of him and carefully took his shaking hands into hers. Looking straight up into his reddening eyes, she said, “You’re going to hurt for a long while. But it’s going to heal, all of it. Do you believe me?”

“Why did you invite me?”

Breaking into tears of her own, she placed a hand on the side of his face and smiled. “I invited you because I love you. When I first saw you, I don’t know. I can’t put them into words—,”

Benji’s eyes narrowed and he remembered she had a boyfriend. The dark blue letters reading ‘in a relationship’ struck his memory like an iron hammer striking ore. Feeling like he was in the same situation as Shannon, he threw a shield over his heart and said coldly, “Don’t. I don’t want to hear anything if you’re not sure.” Without letting her reply, Benji turned his back on her and walked right out the door.

Kris followed him to the hallway and then stopped, knowing it would be useless to follow him. As she watched him mechanically climb into his car and drive out, Kris looked over at the wrapped parcel on the mantel beside her. A scribbled note on the front read: To Kris, from Benji. Wiping a tear from her eyes, she peeled away the zombie themed paper and lifted up the cardboard flaps to reveal tissue paper. Delicately, she moved away the paper and pulled out a red mug. She let the paper and box fall onto the ground as she gazed at the mug.

Dawn of the Dead was printed on the front and a replica signature of the director’s name was labeled underneath the title.  

Kris placed a hand over her mouth and looked out at the window. His car was gone, but that wasn’t going to stop her. Running to the dining room, she snatched the small box at his plate-setting and grabbed her coat. As fast she could, she boarded her car and made her way down the road she had last seen Benji.

Pulling into a two-lane road, Benji slowed down to a stop light. He struck the wheel in frustration and switched the radio off so aggressively that he jerked the knob off. “Bugger!” Staring at the removed piece, he pitched it behind his head rest, not caring where it would land. As he waited for the light to turn green, another car pulled over beside him. Out of habit, he looked over and then tossed his eyes to the road before looking over at the driver again.

Thinking he had run away from his previous encounter, Benji rolled down the passenger window and shouted angrily, “You’re supposed to be home! Get out!”

“You forgot this!” the driver shouted as she rolled down her window. She showcased a small box.

More annoyed that she had interfered with his justifiably self-absorption, Benji shooed her away. “I don’t want to speak with you, or see you. You can keep your stupid box!”

Offended, Kris dropped her jaw and then shut it with determination to fulfil her purpose. “Listen, Benji, come back! Have dinner with me, please!”

“I don’t eat with liars,” Benji insulted. He turned away and bit his knuckle. He realised that was probably very unnecessary.

“You’re awful, Benji Dore!” Kris shouted. She leaned out the car window and continued her side of the confrontation, “You said you hate being treated like you were nothing? Well, don’t treat me like that! I told you ‘I love you,’ and I do! I still do! You’re the best thing that’s happened to me, and I’ve lived a reasonably good life. You’re just scared, and that’s all right, everyone gets scared, but you can’t be scared forever—I won’t let you!”

Keeping his pride, Benji ignored her. He pretended to find interest in the driver next to him, who looked at him strangely. Reading the fellow driver’s questioning eyes, Benji gave a sarcastic shrug and twirled his finger beside his temple, indicating that the girl was a bit off her rocker.

“You think you’re winning, huh? You think that not saying anything back makes you in control? Well, you’re not, Benji! You won’t be fully controlled of your life until you realise you have everything. And she’s right here. You think you were stupid to fall in love? I can do that, too, and I can be stupider. I am stupid for you, Benji Dore! Do you hear me? You think you’re a loser? Well, you’re not! I love you, Benji—,”

Certain that she was lying, even though every word crumbled his fear of love, he shouted back through returning tears, “Shut it, will you? Please, just be quiet.”

Kris dropped back in the seat just in time the light turned green. However, the time between Benji’s foot transitioning from the brake to the gas pedal, Kris used that moment to hurl the box into Benji’s car and then drive ahead of him so that he couldn’t pass it back.  She made a left and disappeared down another road.

Benji accelerated and pulled into a side lot where he parked. He picked up the small parcel and slipped the string off. In impatient motor control, he flicked the lid off and dumped the object into his hand. He expected it to be a useless sentiment but what it was instead was something that had slipped his mind completely. It was a small decorative paper slip with typing on the front. It was small print, but it was readable.   

Dear Benji,

I talked to the supervisor at the London publishing house and he said you have to have a high school and college degree to apply. Please don’t get angry, I talked to Copper and he informed me you don’t have a college degree. But here’s the good news, I managed to talk my supervisor into letting me train you for the job. You are, though, required to get a GCSE if you want the position. This explains part of the reason why I didn’t give you the paperwork right away; I was trying to work this out. And it might. If you’re interested, let me know.

Yours truly,

Kristen