By the time he was eight, Bennet had mastered climbing the drainpipe on the side of my house as a way to get to my second story bedroom window. Since he was always trying to get away from his house, it was normal for him to come tumbling through my window at all hours of the day and night.
By the time we were fourteen, I didn't even flinch when I heard the creaking of the drainpipe and scuffling on the roof. Instead I waited until I heard the thud of his sneakers on my carpet and the screech of the window as he shut it.
This certain night though, the thud of his sneakers was heavier and the screech of the window was long and drawn out. I turned from my desk where I had been trying – but failing – to do my math homework and looked at him.
He was drunk, I could see, or at least pretty tipsy. His eyes were puffy and swollen, his cheeks were blotchy and his jaw was clenched, telling me he had been crying a lot. His hair was sticking up in weird places and had some hay stuck in it, telling me he had been lying in Shellman's barn for awhile too.
It was the night after they found his mama in the river and he had been missing all afternoon and evening.
Everybody had wanted me to tell them where they could find him, since I was the one who would know best, but I wouldn't tell them. Just like I wouldn't go and find him. Bennet was the kind who when he wanted to be found and comforted, he came to you, you didn't go to him. It was just how he worked and I knew that. I knew he'd eventually come through my window, I trusted it, but I still worried as the hours ticked on. I still worried about how drunk he'd get and what if he stumbled in front of a moving car or something.
But I still waited for him to come and, sure enough, he did.
He didn't say anything. He just shuffled over to my bed and sat down with his back to me. I got up and sat next to him. We sat in silence for a while. I knew I had to wait for him to speak first.
"They said it was suicide," he said, his voice gargled and low.
I lowered my head, but took his hand between my two. It was rough and dry as always, but ice cold which it never was.
"They said it was only a matter of time before she'd lose it," he said.
Sometimes I hated the cops in Keplar's. They had a hard time keeping their big mouths shut.
"She just couldn't get happy," he whispered as tears bubbled in his eyes. "She just couldn't get happy."
Bennet had had a strange relationship with his mama. With Mrs. Malene's mental health getting steadily worse as Bennet got older, their roles switched around the time he was ten, when he suddenly became the caregiver of a grown woman. She embarrassed him constantly. Having the town loon as your mother wasn't exactly something a pre-teen boy could handle well. He made fun of her all the time, griped about her even more, and said on more than one occasion how he wished he had a different mama, one who ideally wasn't crazy.
But the second one of our classmates called Mrs. Malene crazy, Bennet was on top of them and punching their faces in. When they were out and about and Mrs. Malene had one of her breaks, or just started talking to her invisible friends, Bennet threatened the little kids who pointed and giggled, or made sharp remarks to the few adults who had the gall to stare at poor Mrs. Malene. Whenever she got agitated, or started to slip into her uncontrollable sadness, Bennet would be there, hands on her cheeks, whispering to her in soft tones, keeping her hands from ripping out her hair or smacking her head, convincing her to take her pills. No one – not even Stanley, who was one of the two people she'd let touch her – could calm her like Bennet could. Away from her, he claimed to have no patience with her, but when she was low, there wasn't a person in the world who had more patience than Bennet. Sometimes it took hours to calm her, and Bennet never left her side for a second. He always made sure she was okay.
It's how I knew – even at the age of ten, eleven, twelve, up to fourteen – that Bennet's hatred of his mother wasn't hatred at all, but a love so strong he couldn't understand it. Like any boy, he was the protective guard dog of his mama, but he also loved her so much it killed him to see her fall apart. He had no idea how to deal with her. What kid would?
As he crumbled into sobs and tears, I grabbed his tousled head and pulled it to my shoulder. Bennet wasn't one to cry much, he was too "tough guy" for that, but he never had a problem crying in front of me when it needed to happen. I turned toward him, hugging him so tight, I thought I might break him. He seemed to melt into me, his head sliding slowly to my chest, leaving a streak of tears down my shirt. Trembling, he tightened his skinny arms around my waist, holding on for dear life.
"I couldn't make her happy, Natty," he sobbed. "I tried so hard. But I still let her down."
"It's not your fault, Bennet." I kissed his hair. "She was sick. No one could make her happy."
"She just kept gettin' worse," he said, lifting his head and putting his nose to mine, eventually letting his forehead rest against mine. His breath smelled like beer, but I petted his cheeks anyway. "No matter what I did, I couldn't stop it. Why wouldn't it stop?"
"She was too sick. Even Stanley couldn't stop it, and he's a doctor," I whispered. "No one could stop it, not even you. But you were good to her, that's what matters."
"No I wasn't," he said. "I hated her. I made fun of her."
"You loved her." I made sure his eyes were looking at mine. "And she knew it. Even as sick as she was, she knew it. You took care of her, you protected her."
"I couldn't protect her from this," he whispered, more tears dripping down his soft, blotchy cheeks.
"I don't think anybody could."
"I hate this town, Natty," he said, his chin shaking. "Even more than I did before."
"No you don't. You're just sad."
"Everything reminds me of her," he said. "She's everywhere."
"It'll get better."
"We hafta get outta here," he said.
"We will. Once we graduate, but not 'til then."
He looked up at me, his eyes shining and our noses touching again. "You're all I got now, Natty."
I stared back at him. "Shut up, you're drunk. You've got the whole town."
"No." He shook his head and put his hands on my jaw. "I'm not drunk. Only you understand. I only got you. I love you."
He had never said that to me before, not so bluntly anyway. I remember my stomach wriggling, and noticed my hands were shaking, but I smiled a little, putting my hands over his as they rubbed my cheeks. "You're drunk."
"No I ain't. I love you."
My smile grew. I didn't need to hear the stubbornness in his voice to believe him. It was all there in his eyes, staring at me like I was it. Just me. It was in that moment I knew just how much I meant to him.
"I know you do," I said. "I love you too."
His blotchy cheeks reddened a little as he sniffed, wiping his puffy eyes with his wrists. "I know," he said, tired but smiling. "And you will forever."
"Oh will I?"
"Yup." He sniffed again, his face finally dry. "Because it's impossible to fall out of love with me."
I shoved his shoulder. "You're jokin' right now?"
He made his famous Nose Laugh, though it came out a little snotty sounding. "Who said it's a joke?"
I turned away, shaking my head and crossing my arms in a huff. He watched me for a few seconds, thinking about I don't know what, and then scooted next to me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders so he kiss my jaw and neck.
He leaned his forehead against the side of mine, whispering, "I'm gonna marry you, Natty Jean. The minute we're old enough. I'm gonna marry you and keep you forever. We'll have kids and live in a big house that's far away from this place, and I'll make you so damn happy. If it kills me, I'll make you happy."
I let a smile slip for a second – if only he knew he didn't have to work hard at all to make me happy – quick to hide it again. "And why would you want to do all that with me?"
"Because I love you, stupid," he said, his lips pressed against my hair. His arms tightened around me. "And I'm gonna love you forever."
"Because I'm impossible to fall out of love with?"
"Yup." He kissed my temple. "I'll never fall out of love with you."
He pulled on me until we were lying down on my bed. He kissed me for a long time before his exhaustion dragged him into sleep. I stayed in his arms, even after he began to snore a little. I didn't dare move, not wanting to break his hold on me.
And, like the stupid little girl I was, I spent the night staring up at the ceiling, too damn excited to sleep. Through the dark night, I daydreamed about my impending future with my beautiful and perfect Bennet Malene, making plan after plan after plan, convinced no one was as lucky as I was.
I had never been so happy, and I knew nothing could ruin it.
As far as I was concerned, things couldn't go anywhere but up.