Chaos and Control(77)

My heart races at the mention of Preston. “I think that’s a great idea, Ben.”

“Have you been up there recently? To the workshop? It’s amazing what that boy can do with his hands.”

My spoon clatters to the floor, and Bennie gives me another smile. I fetch a new spoon and return to the table.

“You know I haven’t been up there. We barely speak.”

She coughs, and her eyes water. I know she’s in pain, but she refuses to let on how much.

“Wren, you two make sense together. You are the chaos to his calm and vice versa. I know you still want him. What’s the problem?”

“I want to focus all my energy on you.”

I abandon my cereal and stare across the table at her. The morning sunlight pours in through the front window, and her pale skin looks translucent. She is even thinner than when I first arrived. This is Bennie’s ghost, even before she’s left the earth.

“Sweetheart. I asked him not to tell you about my cancer. I put that on him. It wasn’t fair of me to do so, especially after you two got involved. He is good for you, Wren. I’ve never seen you so happy in this town. And you are good for him, too. That boy loves you.” She pauses and wheezes through a deep breath. “When you left, I was so angry. I just knew that you’d never come back. Your postcards were the only thing that kept me going. They showed me that you were out there, really living.”

“I was,” I answer.

“I thought about trying to find you when I first got sick, but I didn’t want to bring you back to Crowley just to watch me waste away. I wanted you happy.”

“I want you happy, too,” I whisper, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. My voice cracks and gives out on me.

“Then please talk to Preston. Forgive him. I don’t want to die knowing that you’re all alone in the world. You’re my Wrenie.” Her eyes gloss over with unshed tears. “You’re both so important to me.”

I give in to the sobs that feel like they are choking me from the inside. She’s right about everything. She always has been. Leaving my chair, I fall to my knees next to Bennie and wrap my arms around her waist. Preston and I balance each other out. We are night and day, mixed together on a canvas to create the most vibrant sunset. I realize that Bennie is not the only thing holding me to the town anymore. I cry into her lap as she runs her fingers through my hair and hums. We stay that way until my tears dry up and my knees ache from the kitchen floor.

Bennie takes my face in her hands and lifts me up. “Promise me you’ll talk to him.” She squeezes my cheeks together like when I was a little kid.

“I pwomish.”

We both chuckle and after finishing our breakfasts, get started planning the big summer sale for Vinyl.

…

After closing, I sit in the storage room with Bennie and go through boxes of her oldest inventory. As I flip through a collection of Rolling Stones albums, I wonder about the future of Vinyl.

“Ben, what’s going to happen to the store when you…?” I can’t even say the word, but she knows what I mean.

“Everything goes to you, of course.” She shrugs.

“Me? I don’t know… I mean, I can’t…” I drop the stack of records I’ve been sorting onto the floor.

“Calm down, Wren. Everything that is mine will be yours. That means you can do whatever you want with it. Keep Vinyl open, or sell it, or close it down completely. Whatever you want is fine with me.”

“I just can’t imagine it closed. It’s been around as long as I remember.”

Bennie nods and coughs into the dusty air.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Not exactly. I’m dying.” She gives me a wide grin, and I want to cry. Instead, I roll my eyes and refocus on my stack.

“Why don’t you let me finish this, Ben? I can get it.”

She flips me off and gives me a wink. “I’m not helpless.”

I return the gesture just as Preston comes through the door.

“You’re still working?” he asks Bennie, completely ignoring me. I watch as he lifts his hand and touches each button on his shirt from his collar down to the bottom.

“Just getting things ready for the sale.”

“Need some help?” he asks, fingers running along his buttons again then tapping his watch.

Bennie shakes her head. “I have Wren here. Go enjoy your evening. But tomorrow, if you want to bring a few more pieces from your workshop in for the sale, that would be cool.”

“Yeah,” he says, looking down at his Chucks before meeting my gaze. “I’m headed there now. I’ll bring some down when I’m finished.”

“Sounds good,” Bennie says, getting distracted by something in her box.

There’s a beat of silence between us.

“Wren.”

“Hello, Preston,” I answer, nodding at him.

His fingers twitch, and the memory of how they felt on my skin plays through my thoughts. He opens his mouth to say something, but Bennie interrupts.

“Holy shit! Look at this!” she says, waving a photo at me. “How did this get in here?”

She hands me the photo, and I’m transported back to my childhood. Back when I was too young to resent my parents and thought they knew everything. We’re standing in front of my dad’s newly remodeled church. My parents are stone-faced and stare at the camera impassively, American Gothic style. My mother holds her Bible while Bennie holds me. She is in her mid-twenties and so beautiful. Despite the always-strained relationship with our parents, she is smiling. I’m four or five years old, wearing a pink dress with lots of ruffles, my blond hair in pigtails. Everyone is looking at the camera except me. I’m looking up at Bennie, my hand on her face.