and it’s as if they’ve decided my therapy session with Ginny should begin. She nods at the chair across from her and I sit.
“Ben, Mom and Dad have explained the situation to me, and there’s no reason for you to be afraid.”
I turn to my parents, but they nod like she’s some amazing guru.
“Why should I be afraid?”
She rolls her eyes, like I’m being cute.
“Benny, it’s okay to be honest about your feelings. The more you repress them, the worse you’ll feel and that may manifest in some pretty terrible behavior.”
Dad says, “Huh?” Exactly what I was thinking.
Ginny runs a hand through her long hair and whips it over her shoulder. “It’s basic psychology, Dad. I learned it in class. Ben is very introverted and that could be dangerous.”
I want to strangle her with her own hair. She’s like all the kids in class with me, who are on every club that exists, work every community service project, play twelve instruments, and train blind horses. I can picture her at college, Miss-know-it-all, asking questions she already knows the answers to.
“To be fair, we haven’t told Benjamin everything. We’ve been waiting for the right moment,” Mom says.
“Everything?” I ask.
Mom sighs. “We’re selling the house and are looking at apartments or possibly a condo. Your father may not agree to the transfer.”
This takes a moment to process. My day has been out of control, and this, shit, I don’t know. So I ask the only logical question, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Jesus, Ben, watch your mouth!” Dad shouts.
“Sorry, sorry. It’s just, what do you want me to say? You all seem to have this figured out.”
Dad frowns. “I understand how it must feel to you.” He leans forward in his seat. “Here’s the situation: we’re moving, one way or another. Either to save money or to take advantage of an appropriate opportunity. I refuse to get stuck in something that doesn’t make sense for us all.”
“So we’ll be across the country, or across town?”
“It all depends on the plant’s next move.”
“It’s going to be so hard to say good-bye to this house,” Ginny says and looks around, as if at someone’s deathbed. “The memories.”
She and Mom embrace, and I stare at my father. He shrugs and looks out at the night.
I sit for a moment longer and then say good night, pat Dad on the shoulder, and head to my room.
I hop online, hoping for distraction, but there’s a Facebook message from Ricky.
Benny. So all I can say is that some shit has changed. We’re gonna have Trev as our cameraman. He’s nasty with computers, so this is prolly good, but please go along with it, cuz if you do, John will be down. O. P. says the check is on the way and that he’ll send the list tonight, too. Cool?
I don’t know how to respond—at this point I have no energy for anything more—so I shut down my computer and close my eyes and concentrate on breathing.
When I was eight, Mom had me take a course with her on dealing with anxiety. The only takeaway was the deep breathing. Couple that with a quiet room and I’m usually good to go.
Ten minutes later and I’m calm, almost asleep. I pull myself out of the chair and head to the bathroom. Ginny’s standing in it, sniffling. I take another deep breath.
“Sorry, finishing up.” She blows her nose and wipes her eyes and I lean against the wall.
My exhaustion takes over, and I may fall asleep right here.
“You okay, Benny?”
I open my eyes and she’s hovering, looking not like the semi-adult from downstairs, but the red-eyed, puffy-faced sister I remember. I sigh. “Yeah. It’s a lot all at once. You know?”
“That’s it. Exactly.” She steps into the hall.
I don’t know what else to say, so I shrug and mumble, “Good night.” I piss and when I come out, she’s gone and her door is closed. I shut my own, kill the light, and plow into my bed. I think I’m asleep before I even shut my eyes.
CHAPTER 9
T
“Ben, Mom and Dad have explained the situation to me, and there’s no reason for you to be afraid.”
I turn to my parents, but they nod like she’s some amazing guru.
“Why should I be afraid?”
She rolls her eyes, like I’m being cute.
“Benny, it’s okay to be honest about your feelings. The more you repress them, the worse you’ll feel and that may manifest in some pretty terrible behavior.”
Dad says, “Huh?” Exactly what I was thinking.
Ginny runs a hand through her long hair and whips it over her shoulder. “It’s basic psychology, Dad. I learned it in class. Ben is very introverted and that could be dangerous.”
I want to strangle her with her own hair. She’s like all the kids in class with me, who are on every club that exists, work every community service project, play twelve instruments, and train blind horses. I can picture her at college, Miss-know-it-all, asking questions she already knows the answers to.
“To be fair, we haven’t told Benjamin everything. We’ve been waiting for the right moment,” Mom says.
“Everything?” I ask.
Mom sighs. “We’re selling the house and are looking at apartments or possibly a condo. Your father may not agree to the transfer.”
This takes a moment to process. My day has been out of control, and this, shit, I don’t know. So I ask the only logical question, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Jesus, Ben, watch your mouth!” Dad shouts.
“Sorry, sorry. It’s just, what do you want me to say? You all seem to have this figured out.”
Dad frowns. “I understand how it must feel to you.” He leans forward in his seat. “Here’s the situation: we’re moving, one way or another. Either to save money or to take advantage of an appropriate opportunity. I refuse to get stuck in something that doesn’t make sense for us all.”
“So we’ll be across the country, or across town?”
“It all depends on the plant’s next move.”
“It’s going to be so hard to say good-bye to this house,” Ginny says and looks around, as if at someone’s deathbed. “The memories.”
She and Mom embrace, and I stare at my father. He shrugs and looks out at the night.
I sit for a moment longer and then say good night, pat Dad on the shoulder, and head to my room.
I hop online, hoping for distraction, but there’s a Facebook message from Ricky.
Benny. So all I can say is that some shit has changed. We’re gonna have Trev as our cameraman. He’s nasty with computers, so this is prolly good, but please go along with it, cuz if you do, John will be down. O. P. says the check is on the way and that he’ll send the list tonight, too. Cool?
I don’t know how to respond—at this point I have no energy for anything more—so I shut down my computer and close my eyes and concentrate on breathing.
When I was eight, Mom had me take a course with her on dealing with anxiety. The only takeaway was the deep breathing. Couple that with a quiet room and I’m usually good to go.
Ten minutes later and I’m calm, almost asleep. I pull myself out of the chair and head to the bathroom. Ginny’s standing in it, sniffling. I take another deep breath.
“Sorry, finishing up.” She blows her nose and wipes her eyes and I lean against the wall.
My exhaustion takes over, and I may fall asleep right here.
“You okay, Benny?”
I open my eyes and she’s hovering, looking not like the semi-adult from downstairs, but the red-eyed, puffy-faced sister I remember. I sigh. “Yeah. It’s a lot all at once. You know?”
“That’s it. Exactly.” She steps into the hall.
I don’t know what else to say, so I shrug and mumble, “Good night.” I piss and when I come out, she’s gone and her door is closed. I shut my own, kill the light, and plow into my bed. I think I’m asleep before I even shut my eyes.
CHAPTER 9
T
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