so warm I almost have to pull away for fear of burning, but it subsides, only giving residual pulses. It’s his fear, I think, fighting against the lump in my throat. It’s his anger, his sorrow. It’s whatever causes him to find the black, the tide he rises against. It’s there because of me.
I turn and slump against the door, sliding until my ass reaches the floor. He’s mere inches away but there’s a wall between us, one that is more substantial than the door. I need to tear it down. I need to break through, but I don’t know how.
You know, my father whispers. Oh, Benji. You know. You built it, so you can destroy it.
“Benji,” Cal says through the door.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry. You know, for….”
I bow my forehead into my hands. “Yeah. Didn’t think I’d see you again. Thought you’d left.”
His reply is muffled and quiet. “That’s not what I wanted you to think. I’m sor—”
“No. It’s not your fault. It should be me apologizing to you. Again.”
He’s confused. “But you didn’t do—”
“Yes, I did. I did everything. I pushed, Cal. I pushed and pushed because I thought that knowing what I needed to know mattered more than you not being able to remember. I shouldn’t have done that. There’s no excuse.”
Quiet, for a time. Then, “You had your reasons. I don’t blame you. I can’t.”
“Why do you do that?”
“What?”
“You justify my being an asshole. You do it all the time.”
He chuckles and there’s a bump against the door, like he is laying his head against it. “It’s because I see the good in you. It’s bright, you know. Like the sunrise. Like the sun rising on my face. I watched the sunrise every morning while I was gone. It reminded me of you.”
“Where’d you go?” I choke out.
He sighs again. “The woods. I wandered for a bit. I watched for the threads, but I couldn’t see any. Not the whole time I was gone. I was worried about it, wondering if they were hidden from me. But I don’t think they were.”
“Nothing bad happened while you were gone. Not really.”
“Oh. That’s good. I hoped.”
“Cal?”
“Yes, Benji?”
“Why did you go?”
“I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“No, that’s not the—Look, that’s in the past. It’s done. You’re here. I’m here.”
“Are you?” There’s a rustling against the door, like he’s rubbing his hand against it.
“Yeah. I am.”
“I was getting scared.”
“You? Scared? I didn’t think you were scared of anything.”
He laughs. “There are a lot of things I’m scared of, Benji.”
I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. “Why were you scared this time?”
There’s a pause, and for a moment, I think he won’t answer. I chide myself again for pushing, but then he speaks. “I was scared… I was scared because I could feel your anger. You were mad at me, and it scared me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt such anger before. Not since I’ve known you.”
He means longer than two weeks, and we both know it. “Cal—”
“Hush, Benji. Please let me speak.” The recrimination in his voice is soft. I wait.
“I was scared, and that in turn made me angry. I told myself that you were being a child, that you didn’t understand at all what it meant to be lost. I hated myself for thinking it. It was petty. I didn’t think I would ever know what pettiness felt like, and jealousy. I shouldn’t have felt that way.”
“Why did you?”
“Because of your father.”
“Big Eddie? I don’t understand.”
“Benji, do you know who my father is?”
“God?”
“For lack of a better word, yes. The one you know as God is my Father. Do you know the last time I got to see my Father?”
Never met him. I’m pretty far down on the totem pole.
“You haven’t,” I say, feeling like my chest’s being crushed. “You never met him.”
“Right. I’ve never met the one who created me. I just know he did because that is what I am supposed to know. I was created and I do what I’m told. Or at least I did.”
“So you were jealous?”
“Yes. As much I hate to say it, as much as it tears me apart, yes. I was jealous of you because you had what I never could. I was jealous of him because he had you. I’ve seen many people in my lifetime, Benji. So many people, even in a little place such as this. But I can tell you that there has never been such a man as your father.”