Rum & Ginger (16 page)

Ben awoke to a soft knock on the door to his suite. He’d grown accustomed to these mornings as well and felt grateful for them. He knew Rosa was the one knocking on his door, having stopped by to make the two roommates breakfast. He smiled and tossed back the covers. Ben had grown to really like Rosa. The maid had a witty sense of humor, and she took no shit from Derek. In Derek’s defense, he rarely tried to give her shit, having spent the better part of his life around the older woman.

“I’ll be right there, Rosa,” Ben called, pulling on a pair of pajama pants.

“Okay, Mister Ben. I will see you upstairs.” Ben heard her footsteps retreating. He finished dressing, happy about Rosa’s visit, but he also knew he’d be putting in a little extra running to work off the hearty breakfast she was about to prepare. Rosa didn’t believe in small portions or people who didn’t finish their meals.

Though the two women were very different, Rosa reminded Ben that he’d been reluctant to speak with his mother since the breakup, and their few phone conversations had been short and evasive. He decided it was time to open up to his mother. He also came to the conclusion that he needed to confront Derek on his relentless partying. Ben marched upstairs with a renewed sense of determination.

“Benny,” Derek croaked, obviously hurting from the previous evening. “G’morning.”

“Hey, Derek. You look like shit.”

“Yeah. I feel worse.”

“What you want for breakfast, Mister Ben?” Rosa interrupted.

“What’s Derek having?” Ben asked.

“Toast and tea.”

“I can’t handle anything else,” Derek explained.

Ben looked at Derek. “I’ll have a cup of tea.”

“You like french toast, Mister Ben?”

“I love it. But Rosa, how many times have I asked you to just call me Ben?”

“Many times. Sorry, Mister Ben. I am just used to it. I will make you french toast.”

“Thanks, Rosa.”

“You tell Mister Derek what you need to tell him,” Rosa instructed. How did she know? She was very intelligent and extremely insightful, but that was almost creepy.

“What do you need to tell me?” Derek asked, his voice muffled because his face rested in his hands.

“Well.” Ben wasn’t sure how to begin now that the moment had come.

“What?” Derek asked.

“You are not being any good.” Rosa spoke, as she did so often, without looking at them but focusing on her cooking.

“Any good at what?” Derek asked her. She didn’t speak, obviously waiting for Ben to pipe in.

“At life, dude,” Ben answered.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Derek asked, looking up.

“You are inconsiderate, Mister Derek.” Rosa spun and placed two heaping plates of french toast in front of the men. This wasn’t what Ben had in mind when Derek said tea and toast.

“How so?” Derek eyed the french toast with an expression of apprehension.

“Do you have to have people over every single night?” Ben asked.

Derek looked a little stunned as he regarded Ben and Rosa. “Shit.”

“I’m not trying to be a dick,” Ben said. “I mean, this is your house, and I can’t tell you how to live in it or anything.”

“No. No. I get it.” Derek nodded. “Sometimes when you come home from work, you just want to relax and not deal with my friends.”

“You need to slow down, Mister Derek. All this drinking party time is no good for you.” Rosa sat down with her plate and drizzled syrup over her toast.

“Pass the syrup?” Derek asked. He drowned his toast in the sweet liquid and handed the carafe over to Ben.

Ben accepted the syrup. “Thanks.”

“I’m just used to having friends over, and we tend to drink,” Derek said in his defense. He shrugged and tucked into his breakfast, his apprehension forgotten.

“You just don’t like to be lonely, Mister Derek.” Rosa ate happily. “That is why you always have the skanky ladies over.”

“They’re not all skanky,” Derek replied.

Ben felt strange witnessing the exchange, like he was intruding on family business. Oddly, it made him miss his mother even more. “Um,” he interjected rather lamely.

“Mister Derek.” Rosa’s tone was scolding.

“Fine,” Derek relented. “They’re skanky, but they like me. And you’re right. I
am
lonely. What am I supposed to do?”

“Maybe just be lonely for a while,” Ben offered. “It might make you realize what you really want.”

“That’s a little too New Age-y for me, Benny. I know what you mean, but you didn’t know me right after the divorce. I was in a seriously bad way.”

“It was ugly,” Rosa confirmed. “He did not leave the house for a week. It smelled real bad.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Derek said.

“I can understand that. I deal with mine the opposite. You don’t want to be alone, and I don’t even want to look at a person.” Ben took a bite of his toast.

“I won’t have people over so much, Benny. Plus I can always go out, if I want to hang,” Derek told him. Rosa clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “What?” Derek asked.

“You know what my opinion is.” Rosa folded her arms in front of her chest.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, Rosa. I’ll try not to drink so much. Happy?”

“We’ll see,” she said dismissively. She stood and cleared the plates away. “I think Mister Ben is living here now. You should not be so lonely.” That seemed to be her last word on the subject. She placed the dishes in the sink and left the room. A few moments later, they heard the sound of the vacuum cleaner.

“Fucking Rosa.” Derek slapped the table. “She’s a gift and a curse.”

“I didn’t mean to start any shit, dude,” Ben apologized.

“Nah. It’s not your fault. You deserve to have a say in the house. You are paying rent. I will seriously try to cool it with the parties and shit.”

“I appreciate that,” Ben replied. “I’m not trying to shake up your whole deal.”

“It’s fine, Benny.” Derek stood. “I’m going to go have a shower.”

Ben nodded. “I’m going to give this toast a little time and then have a run.”

Derek walked out of the kitchen, leaving Ben seated at the island with his thoughts. It still surprised Ben a little that Derek wasn’t still just the same jerk from high school. Ben decided to watch an episode of
Law & Order
before he went for his run. He hated exercising on a full stomach. After his run he’d give his mother a call.

B
EN
LISTENED
to the fifth ring and sighed, slightly relieved. He’d decided to call his mother and speak to her about his current situation, but he’d been secretly hoping she wouldn’t pick up. The phone finally stopped ringing. “Hello,” her voice answered.

Instinctively Ben answered. “Hey, Mom. It’s Ben. Give me a call when you get this.”

“Why don’t we just talk now, Benjie?”

“Mom?” Ben asked, startled.

“Yes,” she answered tentatively. “Who did you think you were calling?”

“No. I thought I was calling you. I just didn’t think you’d answer,” Ben explained.

“Why wouldn’t I answer my own phone?”

“No. That’s not what I meant. I—Damn it, Mom.”

His mother chuckled. “You’ve been weird and aloof lately, Benjie. What’s wrong?”

“Lots.”

“Benjie.” His mother’s concern was too obvious in her tone. “What’s happened?”

“Do you want to have lunch or dinner? Just get together and talk?”

“Sure, honey. When?”

“When are you free?” Ben asked.

“Benjie, you’re worrying me.”

“Don’t be worried. When can we get together?”

“Well. I’m good anytime this week. Dad has his poker match. I think he’s got to help Uncle Dave over the weekend,” his mother offered.

“I kind of just want to see you, Mom. I’m going through some stuff.” Ben hoped the emotion in his voice wasn’t too obvious.

“All right. When’s your next day off?”

“Tomorrow,” Ben replied.

“Tomorrow it is. I’ll tell Cheryl I have to skip book club.”

“Mom, you don’t have to change your plans. We can do it another day,” Ben offered.

“Benjamin. You need to see me. We’re having dinner tomorrow.” His mother’s tone invited no argument. She simply stated the way it was. Ben had heard Rosa use the same tone with Derek.

“Okay. Thanks, Mom. Where do you want to go?”

“What about the Box Turtle?” she asked.

“That’s fine,” Ben agreed. The Box Turtle was a local microbrewery with great food. They focused on local, organic produce, and his mother had recently become a vegetarian. The Box Turtle was one of the only places in town that catered to vegetarian customers. Their craft beer was delicious as well. “What time?” Ben asked.

“Five? Five thirty?”

“Five thirty sounds good,” Ben agreed.

“Good. I’ll see you there.”

“Awesome. Thanks, Mom.”

“You don’t have to thank me, love.”

“I know.”

“Okay, Benjie. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you, honey.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

“Bye, Benjie.”

“Bye, Mom.” Ben waited for his mother to disconnect, then cut off the call from his end.

Ben finished his shift and returned to find Derek had made good on his promise. He was the only one in the house when Ben walked in. “What’s up?” Derek called. “I got a couple pizzas if you’re hungry.”

“That’s cool,” Ben responded, walking into the kitchen. Ben was pleased to see boxes from Old Town, one of the best pizza places in Liamsport. Ben grabbed two slices of mushroom and a slice of pepperoni. He tossed the plate in the microwave for thirty seconds and grabbed a beer from the fridge. “No plans?” Ben asked.

“I got some movies from Redbox. But other than that…,” Derek answered with a shrug. “You?”

“Nah. What movies did you get?” Ben retrieved his plate from the microwave when it beeped. He grabbed his beer on his way to the living room.

“I got
Ted
. Have you seen it?”

“That’s the one with Marky Mark and the bear?” Ben asked, sitting down.

“Yeah. The dude from
Family Guy
is the bear voice.”

“Oh yeah. No. I figured it could go either way.” Ben blew on a slice of pizza before taking a bite.

“I got a zombie flick. I got the new
Spider-Man
.”

“With the British kid.” Ben nodded. “That was pretty good actually.”

“I, um… I also got…,” Derek stammered. “Um. I got one of those
Twilight
movies ’cause I heard, um….”

Ben shook his head. “Shit, man. You got a
Twilight
movie because some dumbass told you gay guys like
Twilight
?”

“Yeah,” Derek answered, sounding a little ashamed.

“Dude. Just cause I’m gay doesn’t mean I like shit movies based on double-shit books,” Ben said. “I’m not a chick.”

“Right. Sorry,” Derek apologized. “I’m tryin’, dude.”

“I know, Derek. And I appreciate it,” Ben reassured him. “Want to watch
Spider-Man
?”

“Sure.” Derek jumped up and put the disc in the player. The movie started, and they discussed the differences between this and the Raimi-directed Spidey movies. Derek got them both more pizza and beer.

“I miss Bruce Campbell,” Ben lamented. Their conversation veered off into the realm of Campbell’s extensive body of work.

“Dude, is it me or does Gwen look like she’s a thirty-five-year-old woman in fucking high school?” Derek asked. Ben had to agree. Gwen looked way older than Peter. As the movie reached its climax, the conversation tapered off. When it ended, Derek asked, “Zombies or teddy bear?”

“What the hell, teddy bear,” Ben answered. He stood and cleared away their plates, retrieving another beer for each of them before leaving the kitchen.
Ted
started off oddly, but before long Ben and Derek both found themselves laughing their asses off. The Thunder Buddies song was particularly entertaining. The movie almost exceeded absurd and touched on being sappy but was ultimately very enjoyable, and when it was over, neither Ben nor Derek were sorry they’d watched it.

“That shit was hilarious,” Derek stated. “You up for the zombie flick?”

Ben yawned. “I might not make it through but, sure, put it in.” Derek did. The movie was laughably awful, but some poor pacing made Ben’s eyes grow tired. The quiet lull in the action seemed an opportune moment for Ben to rest his eyelids. He jerked awake a few moments later at a scream from the television. Ben looked over to find Derek sound asleep, his beer bottle tipped nearly to spilling. Ben pulled the bottle smoothly from Derek’s hand and placed it on the coffee table. Ben then settled in the recliner and focused his attention back on the flat screen. It wasn’t long before he followed Derek into a deep sleep.

B
EN
WALKED
into the Box Turtle fifteen minutes early and wasn’t too surprised to find his mother already seated and waiting for him. The Turtle was a modern pub in an old building. When the owners purchased it, they gutted it completely, retaining only the hammered tin ceilings and the hardwood floors. Everything else had been redone. They’d installed large copper vats for their microbrews. Over the years since they’d opened, they’d decorated with local art featuring the restaurant’s namesake. There was barely anywhere a person’s gaze could linger that didn’t have an image of a box turtle. His mother sat in front of a large painting borrowed heavily from Andy Warhol’s Campbell’s Soup work. She smiled and stood as Ben approached the table. “Benjie,” she said, opening her arms for a hug.

“You’re early.” He hugged her tightly and kissed her cheek.

“Always,” she said releasing him. Ben waited for her to sit before he lowered himself into the chair across from her. A moment after they were seated, a waiter came over and asked for Ben’s drink order. He asked for the house specialty, a raspberry-flavored wheat ale.

“What are you drinking, Mom?” Ben picked up the menu and looked through it.

“Pinot Grigio.” She raised her glass and sipped. “So, how have you been?”

Ben shrugged. “I’m okay. How’s Dad?”

“You know your father, never slows down. He’s working on several projects. He started his own video blog about potato chips. And he’s acting with that local theater.” She picked up her own menu and opened it.