Passing through Perfect (Wyattsville #3)(77)

Carmella hugged Benjamin to her chest and pressed a twenty-dollar bill into the palm of his hand. “It’s too cold for that boy to be camping outside, so promise me you’ll stay the night in a proper motel.”

Benjamin didn’t see the need for such a thing, but he nonetheless promised. There was no way he could not promise a woman like Carmella. He and Isaac climbed into the truck, and as he pulled away from the curb he turned back for one last look.

Sidney, Carmella, Paul, and Jubilee stood on the edge of the front porch, their arms raised in one final goodbye, tears glistening in their eyes, and a look of sadness tugging at their faces. It was a picture that would stay with Benjamin for the rest of his life. When Isaac became a grown man and grandchildren nested on Benjamin’s knee, he would still be telling the story of their stay at the Klaussners’.

~

That afternoon Henry Jacobs stopped by the store. He’d left work mid-afternoon claiming a headache, which wasn’t far from the truth. It would be easier, he figured, to casually wander in on the pretext of needing cigarettes or a packet of Bromo-Seltzer than to go, hat in hand, knocking on Sidney Klaussner’s door. He was knee-deep in shame over the way he’d been fool enough to go along with the petition, but coming out with a full-fledged apology pinched like tight underwear. Doing it this way he could start up a conversation, ignoring the events of last night, then work his way around to saying he’d changed his mind about the petition and was withdrawing his name. When he saw the sign taped to the door of the store, he began to worry.

First he rattled the door, but there was no answer and the inside of the store remained dark, so he walked down the street and telephoned the Klaussners’ house.

With everyone outside packing things into Benjamin’s truck, the telephone rang and rang with no answer. For an hour-and-a-half Henry drove around wondering what to do, and when he could come up with no solution he decided to return home. Passing the Klaussner house he slowed to little more than a crawl, thinking he might catch Sid in the front yard. There was no one outside, and the blue truck was gone.





After another sleepless night, Henry knocked on the Klaussners’ front door at seven o’clock the next morning. He was alone.

Sid opened the door, expecting more of what happened two days ago.

Without looking directly into his friend’s face, Henry said, “I’m truly ashamed for taking part in that ugliness.”

Sid pulled the door back and asked him in.

During the last forty-eight hours Henry had done a fair bit of soul-searching, and he’d come to the conclusion that a full-fledged apology was warranted.

“If you was to toss me out, I’d understand,” he said. “I ain’t expecting forgiveness. But I wanted you to know I’m ashamed of what I did.”

He blamed it on his own stupidity and Mildred’s advice. After he’d stumbled through several minutes of up and down apologies, he said if the Klaussners wanted the colored man living in their house he was gonna stand with them.

“For all the bullshit that’s gone on,” he said, “the bottom line is it’s your house and you can do what you will with it.”

Sidney waited as Henry sputtered and stammered through a litany of excuses, then he said, “Benjamin’s already gone.”

“Gone?”

Sid nodded. “He left yesterday afternoon.”

“Because of what happened?”

“No. That was his plan all along. He only stayed to help us in the store.”

“Then why didn’t you say something?” Henry asked. “Why didn’t you tell those crazies—”

“I didn’t think I had to,” Sid replied. “Those people were our friends. I thought they’d understand and accept my belief in a man as truth.”

They stood and talked for a long while. It wasn’t a warmhearted conversation; it was simply the groundwork that would eventually lead back to friendship. When there was nothing more to say, they shook hands and turned back to the door. Sid opened the door, and as Henry passed by Sid reached out and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “we’ll get through this in time.”





Sidney





Standing on the porch and watching Benjamin drive away left an empty feeling inside of me. It wasn’t just me; I could see it on Carmella and Paul’s faces also. Little Jubilee was flat out crying. That’s the good thing about being a kid; you’re not ashamed to let your emotions stick out in the open.

I know leaving is what was best for them, and I think Benjamin’s going to be thrilled when he finds out what Marty has in store for him. Sometimes what we want and what’s best for somebody we care about just isn’t the same thing. It’s that age-old saying about if you love something you’ve got to set it free.

But I can tell you this. If Benjamin had decided to stay, I would have fought tooth and nail to keep him and Isaac safe. I’m not a man given to flowery words and statements, but so help me God, I will never forget what he did for our Paul. Neither will Carmella.





Road Trip





When they left Wyattsville, Benjamin and Isaac rode in silence for a long while. Isaac still wore the catcher’s mitt Paul gave him on his left hand. He kept tossing the baseball from one hand to the other, back and forth, back and forth.