Point Pleasant (58 page)

R
inging. There’s ringing.

Ben roused from sleep. Moonlight filtered in through the window over the bed, and he groaned when he sat upright. The ringing came again, and he realized it was the doorbell. Lethargy gripped him like a vise as he rose from the bed.

He blinked the bleariness out of his eyes and stumbled into the hallway and down the stairs. The bell rang twice in succession with more insistence than a doorbell had any right to affect. Ben groused at the noise and opened the door.

Nicholas had just turned to walk back to his car, but he pivoted when the door opened. He was wearing jeans and a red t-shirt in place of his uniform. Ben frowned at the detail, though he was unsure why it stuck out so much.

“Ben,” Nicholas said, his voice lilting with surprise. “I’ve been calling all day.”

“Day?” Ben asked, squinting at the light over the door.

“It’s after seven. Have you been asleep this whole time?”

“Seven? P.M.?”

“Yeah,” Nicholas said, hesitating before he stole closer to the doorway. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” Ben said, realizing he was blocking the doorway. “Sorry.”

Nicholas stepped inside and shut the door. Ben flicked on the lights in the hallway and winced at the brightness.

“I’m going to make some coffee,” he said and scrubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands. “You want?”

Nicholas nodded distractedly and trailed after Ben. “Are you okay? How do you feel?”

Ben considered the question as he pulled the coffee tin out of a cabinet. “Tired.”

“I didn’t know you were asleep. I thought—”

“Thought what?” Ben asked.

“I thought you’d left.”

“It’s a bit hard to leave without a car, Nic,” Ben said, stifling a yawn while he scooped several heaps of coffee into the filter basket.
Good evening to you, Mr. Coffee, sir.

“Tucker reckons it can be fixed.”

“What can?” Ben asked, flicking on the machine to brew.

“The Camaro. He had it towed to his farm this morning. I think it’s his gesture of gratitude.”

“For what?” Ben asked. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You did a lot, Ben.”

Dysphoria threatened to pin Ben under its considerable weight, and he shifted awkwardly.

“I got your bags,” Nicholas said after a beat. “I thought I’d save you another hike out to Tucker’s. They’re in my car.”

Ben offered a slight nod of acknowledgement. “Thanks.”

“I was worried about you.”

Ben opened the cabinet in front of him and pulled out two cups. “I’m fine,” he said, sounding strained even to his own ears.

“Ben, talk to me.
Please
. What the hell happened?”

“I don’t know,” Ben said, turning his attention back to the machine. He guessed there was enough for two and pulled the carafe out of its cradle. Droplets of coffee sizzled when they hit the exposed hot plate underneath. Ben poured the first cup, but he paused and spared a furtive glance over to Nicholas. “It was like being in the middle of an exploding star.”

“Did you really
feel
it?”

“Felt it, heard it, saw it even though my eyes were closed. I don’t know, Nic. I can’t even begin to explain what happened. I don’t know what you want me to talk about. I thought I was going to die. I
wanted
to die. It was amazing, but it was
awful
more than anything. And all I can see is
the
light.
”

The bandana that Nicholas had tied around Ben’s arm was still in place. Ben tugged it off. “And look,” he said and gestured to where there should have been evidence of when Nicholas had drawn Ben’s blood for the ritual, but the skin was unbroken. “I shouldn’t even be able to hear anything right now. Azazel blew my eardrums out before the ritual even really started. At one point I was completely deaf. But I’m fine. How the fuck am I
fine?
”

Nicholas touched the bare skin of Ben’s forearm. He frowned at the absence of a wound and seemed to be at a loss for words.

“Seriously, Nic,” Ben said. “I don’t know what you want me to talk about. I can’t get my head around any of it and if I tried, I think I’d go insane.”

“You were so
sad
, Ben,” Nicholas said, his voice hushed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry, not even when we were kids.”

“Oh well,” Ben said, shrugging with hollow resolve. “I’m usually alone when that happens.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“Nic,
please
, not now.”

“Ben—” Nicholas started.

“No,” Ben replied. “I know you want to help, but there’s nothing to say. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Nicholas gave a weak nod despite Ben’s harsh tone. “Then we won’t talk about it anymore.”

Ben resumed his task of pouring coffee and slid Nicholas’ cup to him. “How’s the town? Did anything happen last night?”

“No, town’s fine,” Nicholas said, taking the coffee. “I guess it all went down in the forest.”

“Good.”

“Still can’t find the eight missing cruisers. Lizzie’s awake, though.”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “She’s okay?”

“She will be.”

“That’s a relief.”

“My parents are back,” Nicholas said after a beat.

“Bet the drive through Main Street was a shock.”

“Understatement,” Nicholas said, flexing his eyebrows for exaggeration. “They wanted to know if you’d come over for dinner.”

“Tonight?”

“It’ll take your mind off things. They want to see you. Mom practically fell over herself asking about you.”

There was a pleading glint in Nicholas’ eyes, and Ben felt trapped.

“Yeah, okay,” he said at last.

“You just made my mom very happy,” Nicholas said, grinning with such palpable relief that Ben felt guilty for his hesitation.

“I should shower,” Ben said, taking a sip of his coffee.

“I’ll get your bags,” Nicholas offered.

“Thanks,” Ben said. “I’ll be upstairs. Make yourself at home.”

He waited until he heard the front door open before he headed to the upstairs bathroom. With the door closed and locked behind him, he stared at his reflection in the mirror over the sink. He saw that the bruise and cut on his forehead were completely healed, much like his arm. He was surprised by how
normal
he looked even as a small, indistinct part of himself had almost expected some kind of dramatic, visible change.

Oh well.

Ben
felt
different though. He did not know
how
he felt different, he just knew that he
did
. In his head, Ben saw a flash of
the light.
He closed his eyes and braced himself against the sink.

“Don’t be such a baby, Benji,” he told himself, and he was surprised by how much he sounded like Andrew.

Ben undressed and moved to take off his watch. He noticed it had stopped and tapped its face. The time was frozen at exactly seven o’clock. Ben tried to remember what had happened at that time, but the memory was a rushed blur. He removed the watch and tossed it onto the counter by the basin.
Useless.

Despite the warm spray of water in the shower, a cold emptiness—the same feeling that had consumed him when
the light
disappeared and the cacophonous symphony of horrifying
sound
faded—loomed like the whale from Ben’s fuzzy memory of a Sunday school tale about a man named Jonah. After the events at the factory, Ben wondered if such a man had actually existed and if steadfast prayer and thanksgiving had really helped him survive inside the belly of a leviathan.

Ben imagined Jonah stuck inside the beast, pacing back and forth just as Raziel had flown the narrow confines of Point Pleasant’s skies for over five hundred years—just as Ben had often wandered the expanse of his comfortable brownstone back in Boston. Did Jonah ever truly feel free even after he was spat out onto some ancient beach?

You were so sad, Ben.

Raziel, however horrifying, made Ben feel
something
that he still could not articulate. But
it
was gone now, and Ben felt like the last few granules of coffee at the bottom of the tin. He thought of his dead mother on the kitchen floor with her eyes open.

You’ll find it, Ben.

Had he found
it
only to have
it
disappear like everything else? The warmth of fulfillment had edged his periphery, but it had been snatched away before he could fully understand or accept the feeling.

Ben was happy for Raziel; he was home. He got what he wanted, what he needed. Ben was
home
as well—if he could call Point Pleasant home.

Point Pleasant did not
feel
like home, though. Then again, neither did Boston or any of the other places he had blown through in the last thirteen years. Gnome Chomsky had been spectacularly kitsch, but he had only reinforced Ben’s longing for something that he would probably never be able to hold in his hands for longer than it would take for palmfuls of water to trickle through the cracks between his fingers.

Home was not simply a place, of course. Home was where people wanted you, where they were happy you were there, where they greeted you like a long lost friend.

Raziel’s homecoming had been joyous. Ben had
experienced
it, though he still could not understand
how
. Ben’s homecoming had been fraught with volatile emotions since the moment he drove past the cheerful
‘Welcome to Point Pleasant! We’re Mighty Pleased to Have You!’
sign on the outskirts of Main Street.

Ben wanted to go back to sleep and not wake up for a week. However, it was Monday night, and Kate would arrive Wednesday morning, possibly with David in tow. Ben realized for the first time that Kate had not mentioned her boyfriend during their recent exchanges. He berated himself for having neglected to ask if David would be flying down with her. And for neglecting to find out what needed to be done for the funeral on Friday.
Get your shit together, Benji.

He stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. His old bedroom was empty, but Nicholas had dropped Ben’s bags in the doorway. Ben was thankful to have a few more moments alone as he dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. He felt the need to pull on a suit and hide himself under layers of professionalism and smile his very best
and-who-should-I-make-this-out-to?
smile, but Nicholas was in jeans, and Ben followed his example.

Nic, though
, Ben thought as he tugged on a t-shirt.
Nic is happy you came back. Nic wants you to stay
.

Ben ran a hand through his damp hair to straighten it and headed downstairs. Nicholas was in the living room and inspecting the photographs on the mantle.

“Hey.”

Nicholas spun around and smiled. “Ready?”

“Sure.”

Nicholas tilted his head and regarded Ben with concern. “You okay?”

“Sure,” Ben repeated.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, Nic,” Ben said, bowing his head to avoid meeting Nicholas’ gaze. “Nothing. Everything.”

Nicholas stepped closer, keeping a foot of distance between them as if he knew Ben needed space. He said nothing, but he did not seem to expect Ben to go on. Ben realized that Nicholas just wanted him to know he was
there.

When Ben was finally able to look at Nicholas, desperation jolted through him like a snap of lightning. “I came here chasing some fucking mystery like maybe I’d get a new book out of it. Now?
It’s over.
Mystery
solved
. Only not really, because it opened up about twelve thousand new ones. Angels fucking
exist
. Apparently
God
exists.”

Nicholas kept quiet as Ben began to pace.

“My dad is dead
.
I’m pacing around this room in
his
house. He’ll never park his SUV in the driveway, prune the cherry trees, trim the hedges, or put a new coat of paint on the house after a hard winter. He’ll never make another cup of his stupidly strong coffee in that fucking machine of his ever again. And that’s what I’m left with after the big mystery. It’s
over,
and I feel like I’m only just now getting it,
really
getting it.
My dad is dead
.”

“A lot has happened in the last few days—”

“No shit,” Ben said, snorting as he glanced to the photograph of Princess Katie and Benji Skywalker. “Kate will be here day after tomorrow.”

“She will. She’ll need you,” Nicholas said, and he closed the distance between them to place a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “What can I do?”

“I don’t know,” Ben said. “Nothing, really.”

“There must be something,” Nicholas insisted.

“You make it so much harder.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” Ben said. “What am I supposed to do after Friday?”

“You do what you need to,” Nicholas said, tightening his grip on Ben’s shoulder even as he shifted from one foot to the other.

“And what if I don’t know what I need to do?”

“Then you do what Abernathy said. You take the time you need to figure it out.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“I can make it simpler.”

“Can you?”

“You could stay. Here. With me.” Nicholas smiled, though it was as melancholic as the one he had given Ben the night in the square when he divulged, ‘
I kept waiting for you to come back
.’

“It’s that easy?” Ben asked in a hushed tone.

“It could be,” Nicholas replied. “If you let it be.”

“I wish I could, Nic.”  

Nicholas seemed to take a moment to digest the words before he dropped his hand.

“I’m sorry,” Ben said, casting his gaze to his feet. “I don’t know if I’d be a good dinner guest tonight.”

“That’s okay,” Nicholas said. He sounded quiet—numb, even. When Ben looked up, Nicholas was staring off at the mantle once more.

“I don’t know what to do,” Ben said.

“I get it.”