13. Benji

BENJI

“You’re going to lose him!”

“I’ve already lost him.”

“Have you?” asked Bea. She was behind the Japanese-print privacy screen in her boudoir transforming into Abe, while I sat on the end of her bed, my head in my hands, as though holding my skull in place would quiet the despair and anger and self-pity and confusion from rattling around in there.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I even want him back. No, I don’t want him back. Why would I when he already walked away from me once? The thing is, he did it so easily, so fucking effortlessly the last time, as though he barely gave it a thought. Just a note on the pillow like he was letting me know he’d gone to the store for milk and bread. How do I forgive that? Why would I want to?”

“Because he’s offering you an olive branch. He’s admitted to you he’s in a relationship with the wrong person and wants to come back.”

“But don’t you get it? Last time he did this, I was the wrong person.”

“How do know that? Maybe the timing was wrong, maybe something else went wrong. Maybe you were the only thing that was right, and he just needed some time to figure that out.”

“I don’t want someone who leaves me because they need time to figure themselves out. I want someone who’ll love me, who’ll hold me and never want to let me go. I want someone who’ll fight like hell for my heart.”

“Perhaps when he finally meets Abe, that’s exactly what he’ll do.” With that, Bea stepped out from behind the privacy screen as Abe, his lumberjack shirt untucked, the cuffs of his jeans turned up, his bald head wigless and not a puff of makeup on his cheeks. “Whaddaya think? Man enough for you?”

“Absolutely! Except for the heels.”

Abe looked down at the stilettoes he was wearing. “Sorry, force of habit. These things are practically fused onto my feet.” He sat on the bed beside me, pulled off the heels, and pulled on socks and boots to complete the metamorphosis.

“Thank you for doing this,” I felt the need to say.

“It’s my pleasure, my little buttercup. Actually, there’s nothing pleasurable about it. I could literally feel the fungus sprouting between my toes the second I pulled these boots on.” He shivered at the thought. “But if it means teaching that ex of yours a lesson, then it’ll all be worth it. Of course, whether he leaves in a jealous rage or runs into your arms is something yet to be seen. Either way, you’re about to start a new chapter with him… or close the book on him forever. Are you ready for one or the other?”

“Yes. No.” I shook my head softly, then rested it against his shoulder. “I don’t know.”

Abe patted my cheek. “Don’t worry, sweet child. We’ll get through this. Come now… the curtains are about to open on our Christmas Eve lunch. Let the theatrics begin.”

I was about to open the front door of my parents’ house when Abe took my forearm and stopped me.

“Wait a minute, should we establish some ground rules before we hurl ourselves to the lions? You know, for the sake of our friendship.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for example, I think holding hands in front of your family is fine… and a peck on the cheek is fine… but we should probably draw the line at tongue-kissing.”

“Oh definitely. Good idea.”

“And I think cute lovey-dovey nicknames would be totally believable… but I think me fondling your hair or you stroking my head in front of everyone is probably a step too far.”

“Absolutely. Agreed.”

“And I think we tell people we hit it off right away when we met… but our relationship is still early days and we’re taking it slow. It’ll seem a lot more romantic that way.”

I suddenly remembered I’d told Bastian that Abe and I were in an open relationship. “Oh. Um. About our relationship, there’s probably something you should know.”

Suddenly the door opened, and Dad stood there beaming at us. “I thought I heard voices out here. What are you doing standing in the cold? Come inside and warm up. You must be Abe. You’re tall, aren’t you.”

As we stepped inside, Dad shook Abe’s hand and Abe shook right back, throwing so much brute force into the act that my father’s entire body jiggled. “Abe’s the name, don’t wear it out.” Abe’s voice was deep and his laughter loud. “Please to meet you, sir.”

“Likewise. Please follow me. Come meet the rest of the family.”

As Dad walked ahead of us toward the living room, I turned to Abe and whispered, “‘Abe’s the name, don’t wear it out’? What the hell’s that about?”

Abe hitched his shoulders. “Isn’t that something men say? Was it too much?”

“A little. Just act like an average guy.”

“I’ll do my best. But let’s face it, there’s nothing average about me and that’s just the way I like it.”

“Well, hello there!” came my mother’s voice, putting on her best smile even though I knew she’d rather see Bastian beside me. “You must be Abe. Welcome to our home.”

“And what a lovely home it is.” Abe knocked on the nearest wall then stomped on the floor. “Sturdy build. Nice solid wood.”

“That’s right, you’re a lumberjack,” said Mom. “I guess you’d know good quality wood when you knock on it. Or stomp on it.”

“Indeed I do, ma’am. Abe’s the name, wood is my game. I just love chopping down trees and stacking logs and shooing away beavers. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a beaver.”

“I can imagine,” Mom said, clearly uncertain where that whole conversation was going. “Come and meet Cousin Connie.”

Connie was already flouncing across the room, grinning like a lunatic and obviously bursting to see her little scheme at work. “Abe! So nice to meet you.” Instead of shaking his hand, she patted his shoulders and squeezed the biceps under his flannel shirt. “Oh my, what broad shoulders and big muscles you have. What a man, huh?”

Mom and Dad looked at each other strangely while I glared at her.

“I’m sure Abe is flattered,” I told her, pulling her away. “But I don’t think it’s necessary to grope my boyfriend the second he walks in the door.”

As I shoved Connie across the room, I grabbed Abe’s hand and pulled him toward Great Nan who was propped up in her chair.

“Great Nan,” I said loudly. “This is my boyfriend, Abe.”

Great Nan looked from me to Abe then back to me before barking, “And who the fuck are you?”

“Great Nan, it’s me, Benji. And this is my new boyfriend, Abe.”

She sized him up and down. “Where’s your old boyfriend? I like him a lot better.”

I looked around the living room and realized Bastian was nowhere to be seen. “Where is Bastian, anyway?” I asked Mom and Dad.

“He went for a walk after breakfast, darling. He hasn’t come back yet but I’m sure he’ll be here any minute. But Maggie’s here. She’s just a little indisposed at the moment.”

Just then we all heard a flush and Maggie emerged from the downstairs bathroom still wearing her neck brace. “Woah, I almost passed out in there. Anyone got a lighter? I guess I didn’t quite get the chocolate-to-sugar ratio right in this morning’s batch of puppy chow. No harm, no foul, just means there’s more room for lunch now.” She noticed Abe and said, “Well, hey there stranger. You must be Abe. Nice to meet you. Say, has anyone ever told you you’re a dead ringer for Aunt Bea?”

“Aunt Bea is Abe’s cousin,” I responded quickly. “That’s how Abe and I met.”

“Oh yes,” said Mom, gazing intently at Abe. “I can see the resemblance. It’s uncanny, don’t you think, darling?”

“Uncanny,” Dad agreed, staring closely at Abe’s face.

I was struck with the sudden fear that someone might spot a stray speck of glitter or the hint of gloss on his lips. I threw out a distraction like crumbs to a flock of pigeons, pointing through the door into the dining room as I loudly declared, “Oh wow, would you look at that dining table. Those ornaments look amazing!”

Everyone followed me into the dining room as Dad said proudly, “Why, thank you, son. I decorated it myself. I even made little name cards, so everyone knows where to sit. Another job ticked off the Excel whiteboard.”

“Cuz, you’re sitting between Abe and Maggie,” Connie said to me from one side of the table.

“And you’re sitting between Bastian and Great Nan,” I told her from the opposite side.

“And your mother and I will be sitting at either end,” Dad said. “Say, Benji, why don’t you put a record on, and we can get the party started. I’m sure Bastian will be here soon.”

“Sure thing.”

I began to move toward the record player when Abe caught my arm and whispered frantically in my ear. “I’m feeling more out of my depth than I thought I would. Fill my cup. Top up my energy levels. As Superman draws strength from the sun, I need the power of Mariah to see me through this. You know what to do.”

I knelt by the record player, instantly found the record I wanted, and before we knew it, Mariah Carey was singing “ All I Want for Christmas is You .”

As if summoned by the song, Bastian’s all too familiar voice called out from the front door. “Hey everyone, I’m back.”

“Oh, thank God, he’s back,” Mom said, letting out a sigh of relief that seemed overly dramatic. “We’re all in the dining room, sweetheart.”

I steeled myself, unsure how I was going to feel when I saw him again, especially after what I’d said last night in the park.

Would my heart sink?

Would my stomach flip?

Would my fists clench in rage?

But as Bastian walked into the room, none of those things happened. Instead, I got that old feeling, like when I used to see him across a crowded room.

That feeling of relief, that the person I was waiting for had arrived.

That feeling that I was safe now.

That feeling that the one face I wanted to see was there across the room, smiling at me.

Only he wasn’t smiling now. His face was full of remorse.

Sorrow.

Shame.

Could I ever forgive him?

Should I ever forgive him?

I had no idea.

But as Mariah sang, I knew that all I wanted for Christmas was him.

No matter how badly I wanted to hug him, it was Mom who wrapped her arms around him as he stepped into the dining room. “Oh, you’re safe. And you made it just in time for lunch.”

Confusion pushed aside my pining emotions. “Of course he’s safe, Mom. Why would you ask if he’s safe? This is Mulligan’s Mill, not Syria.”

“Darling, you never know what might happen in this sleepy little town. Anyone could slip on the icy banks of the river or fall down Winnie’s Wishing Well and nobody would ever find them. And might I remind you, you’re not part of the volunteer fire department. You weren’t there when the Ritz exploded. Your father still can’t hear in one ear.”

“Oh, that’s all fixed now darling,” Dad said matter-of-factly. “I saw Doc Morgan about it and he found one of my earplugs stuck in there, you know the ones I put in at night. Apparently, they’re supposed to just sit comfortably inside your ear. You’re not supposed to jam them down as far as they’ll go. Who knew?”

Mom gave a delighted clap. “Oh, this day just keeps getting better. Bastian didn’t fall down the well and your father got his hearing back. You see everyone? Christmas miracles do happen. Fingers crossed I haven’t burnt the ham and that’ll be three miracles in a row.” She suddenly realized Bastian hadn’t been introduced to Abe yet. “Oh, but where are my manners? Bastian, you haven’t met Abe yet. Abe, this is our beloved Bastian.”

Abe fluttered his eyelids and held one hand out like a princess. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

I cleared my throat loudly, and Abe abruptly snapped out of flirty drag mode, grabbed Bastian’s hand and shook it firmly. “Woah, check out that grip.” Abe’s voice was suddenly so deep you could be forgiven for thinking Barry White was in the room. “You ever done any lumberjacking? I bet you know just how to handle your tools.”

“Actually, I work in marketing,” was Bastian’s awkward reply. “I spend all day at a computer.”

“Who’d have thought the two of you would have so much in common?” Mom buzzed. “Apart from Benji, of course. You probably can’t wait to compare notes.”

“Mom! Don’t you have something to do in the kitchen?”

“Of course, dear. Ronnie darling, come help me bring out the lunch. Everyone else, please take a seat. And no switching name cards around, otherwise there’ll be no pumpkin cream roll for dessert.”

Mom giggled, knowing that she would never deliver on such a threat, and she and Dad practically skipped into the kitchen.

Connie and Bastian helped Great Nan into her chair, while Maggie, Abe, and I took our seats on the other side of the table. I couldn’t help but notice that Bastian had been seated directly opposite me.

As we all pulled in our chairs, I saw Bastian glance cautiously at Abe.

Meanwhile Great Nan eyed all of us suspiciously. “I have little to no idea who you people are, but if anyone touches my turkey, there’ll be hell to pay. You have been warned.”

Abe nodded like a preacher and said in a voice a little too close to Bea’s, “Like my Grammy used to say—never get between a woman and her turkey.”

I gave him a sharp elbow nudge, but I could see the tea already starting to spill.

Maggie’s eyes widened. “Oh wow, you really are a dead ringer for Aunt Bea. Say something else. If I close my eyes I bet I can imagine Bea sitting right here at this table.”

Maggie shut her eyes tight while Abe gave me a panicked glance, then cleared his throat and lowered his voice again to say—“How’s about them Dodgers? If they keep slam-dunking those hoops, they’re sure to win the Super Bowl this year.”

Maggie opened her eyes. “Well, the voice wasn’t right at all, but the content sounded pretty on par with something Bea might say. Meanwhile, I’m suspicious about one thing.”

“What’s that?” Abe’s voice dug even deeper.

“You’re quoting your Grammy, just like Bea does. You make it sound like you have the same Grammy, but how can that be so?” Maggie crossed her arms like a hard-boiled gumshoe and raised one eyebrow.

“It’s because Abe and Bea are cousins,” I explained. “Like we said before.”

“And that’s where I’m confused. How can two cousins have the same grandmother?”

Now I was confused. “Because that’s how it usually works.”

Maggie laughed. “I’m not sure what kind of family you grew up in—”

“This one, actually. You’re sitting in our dining room.”

“But where I come from,” continued Maggie. “Cousins can have the same parents, but grandparents are an entirely separate issue.”

“No, brothers and sisters have the same parents. Not cousins .”

“Wrong again, brothers and sisters have the same siblings.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“But I’m right as usual,” said Maggie triumphantly, holding out her palm to me. “That’s twenty bucks you owe me.”

From across the table, Bastian put his hand up. “Actually, I’m curious about something too.”

I had no idea where this was going. “What’s that?”

He pointed between me and Abe and said, “Benji mentioned you two are in an open relationship.”

“We are?!?” Abe’s voice went from baritone to soprano in a flash. I kicked him under the table and his voice went back down through the floorboards. “I mean, yes, we are. So?”

“Well, if it’s not too personal a question, what made you two decide that was right for you? I mean, I’ve known Benji for years and it doesn’t exactly fit with his romantic leanings.”

I sat forward, elbows on the table. “For the record, Bastian, you’ve been gone for more than three years. I don’t think you can claim to be an expert on my romantic leanings anymore.”

“Hey, I’m just making dinner table conversation.”

“No, you’re not. You’re being contentious.”

“That’s your take on it. I’m just concerned that this type of dating might not be for you. Open relationships can break hearts if you’re not careful. I’m just looking out for your emotional well-being.”

“My emotional well-being? Says the guy who—”

“Okay guys, time out! Time out!” interrupted Connie. “We all know the history in this room. Maybe we should just let the water flow under the bridge and change the subject. Say, who knows any good Christmas jokes to cheer us all up.”

“This whole conversation’s a joke,” snapped Great Nan. “I’m hungry. Where’s the food?”

“Perhaps Benji and I should check on things in the kitchen,” Abe said, kicking out his chair and yanking me up by the elbow. “Your folks might like some help.”

With that, Abe dragged me promptly out of the dining room toward the living room.

“Ah, I think the kitchen’s the other way.” Maggie pointed as best she could given the neck brace.

“We’re taking the scenic route,” Abe called back over his shoulder.

Shoving me behind the Christmas tree so nobody could hear us or see us through the open doorway to the dining room, Abe fixed his hands firmly to his hips and glared at me close range. “Open relationship? We agreed that we were taking things slow, and now I find out you want to invite any old hussy into our marital bed?”

“Bea, we’re not married. We’re not anything. It’s all pretend, remember?”

“The name’s Abe, and if you want a Tony-worthy performance out of me I need to be committed to the part. Unfortunately, it seems I’m the only one with any sense of commitment. Here I am, dedicated to nothing but the man I love, while you’re flouncing around looking for a floozy to act as our third wheel. And why on earth did you tell Bastian this news? Is it because he’s the one you want to share me with? I can see where this is going. Do you think I’m blind? The two of you are ready to fall in love and leave me by the wayside. How dare you! What kind of fool do you take me for?”

“Bea…”

“Abe.”

“Abe, come back to me. You’ve gone too far into the role. Earth to Abe, can you hear me?”

Abe shook his head as though shaking off a spell. “You’re right. I’m sorry. That’s what comes from being a perfectionist, you can sometimes take method acting far too seriously. Reminds me of my days in the theatre when I performed off-off-off-off-off-off-Broadway.”

I crinkled my brow inquisitively. “Where exactly is off-off-off-off-off-off-Broadway?”

“Palm Springs. But that’s another story. In the words of the great Loretta Castorini—a.k.a. Cher—I just need to ‘snap out of it’ and get on with the show.”

“Benji, sweetheart? Abe? Where are you two hiding?” It was my mother’s voice, calling out from the dining room as she and Dad brought their Christmas Eve lunch to the table.

I grabbed Abe by the hand and hauled him back into the dining room.

As we entered, I glanced at Bastian and saw him catch sight of Abe’s hand in mine.

I squeezed Abe’s hand even harder, as though I was trying to squeeze the jealousy out of Bastian.

“Oh, there you are,” said Mom. “Come on now and take a seat. We’ve got a big old ham and all the trimmings. Green beans, cornbread, stuffing, apple sauce, and since I couldn’t decide what to do with the potatoes, I did them three ways—mashed, baked, and dauphinoise… that’s French, you know.”

“Ooh-la-la,” Dad said, rubbing his shoulder against Mom’s and getting a giggle out of her.

As the festive feast was laid out before us, Great Nan cocked her head left and right as though looking for something that was not there. “Where’s my goddamn turkey?”

“Great Nan, we told you. Turkey is on the menu tomorrow, it’s the star of the show on Christmas day,” said Dad. “I promise there’ll be plenty to go around. But first there’s today’s lunch, then the big parade tonight, then everyone needs to be in bed early otherwise Santa won’t come.”

“Dad, I think everyone at the table knows that Santa’s not—”

“Don’t even say it!” shrieked my mother. “We might all be adults here, but that doesn’t mean we can’t hold onto the magic of Christmas. It’s the most precious time of year, when we celebrate the coming together of family.” She placed a hand on Bastian’s shoulder and one on mine. “I want this to be the most wonderful Christmas ever. And to top it all off, your father and I have a big surprise.”

“Again, with the big surprise.” Connie rolled her eyes. “Please, just tell us what it is already.”

“Well, you’re just going to have to come to the big parade to find out,” Mom teased. “Now pass those plates around the table while your father carves up the ham.”

Dad gave his electric carving knife a whizz—which had always been a noisy conversation stopper—then proceeded to spark up a conversation.

“So,” he shouted over the sound of the mini chainsaw in his hand, “What’s everyone been chatting about while your mother and I have been in the kitchen?”

“Well, we had a fun discussion about family dynamics,” yelled Connie. “And I tried to lighten the mood and see if anyone knew any Christmas jokes.”

“And we found out that Abe and Benji are in an open relationship,” shouted Maggie at the top of her lungs.

That was a real buzzkill for the buzzsaw.

Dad stopped carving as he and Mom looked at each other. “When you say ‘open,’” asked Mom. “Are we talking about opening your hearts? Opening your minds? Or opening…”

“Their legs,” answered Great Nan, slopping mashed potato onto her plate. “They’re talking about open legs everywhere. They’re talking about great big gay orgies with felching and fisting and anus-rimming. Wall-to-wall Crisco oil, I tell ya. You should let them borrow your attic sometime, the place already reeks of jizz anyway.”

Connie giggled uncontrollably into her napkin.

Abe avoided all eye contact while Bastian winced, knowing all too well this was his fault for opening his big mouth in the first place.

Maggie simply said, “Can someone please pass the stuffing? I love me a good stuffing!”

Meanwhile, Mom and Dad remained calm and composed, Dad using the good tongs to serve everyone a slice or two of ham while Mom spooned apple sauce on the side of everyone’s plate.

“Well,” Mom said with a quivering smile at me and Abe. “That’s wonderful. Cousin Connie has taught us that as children of the dawning of the age of Aquarius, Ronnie and I need to be very accepting of alternative lifestyles and sexual choices. We respect that everyone has the right to express their love as freely as they wish. And, my sweet Benji, if you and Abe choose to… felch… and fist… and anus-rim an orgy of men, well, we support you. We’ll hold your hands. We’ll stand right by your side. Oh, but not while you’re in the thick of it, of course.” She gave my father a clip on the shoulder to get his support. “Isn’t that right, dear?”

“Actually, if I’m honest,” said Dad. “I would have preferred just one son-in-law, rather than an entire bikie gang in leather chaps and Coke bottles up their asses. But if this is your idea of romance, then—”

“Oh my God! Stop! Please stop!” I begged. “There are no bikie gangs in leather chaps and Coke bottles up their asses!”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Mom breathed. “One crack in the glass and it’s straight to the hospital for stitches.”

“Mom, none of that’s going to happen. There are no orgies. There is no wall-to-wall Crisco oil. As a matter of fact…” I drew a long, deep breath. “As a matter of fact, Abe isn’t even my boyfriend.”

Everyone around the table gasped.

“Then who’s boyfriend is he?” asked Mom, shocked.

“Mom, it’s not Abe. It’s Bea. This is Aunt Bea.”

Maggie gave a victorious clap. “See? I knew Abe and Bea couldn’t possibly have the same Grammy!”

Mom and Dad leaned forward, blinking and squinting in surprise as Bea nodded, “It’s true. Although I must say this reverse Mrs. Doubtfire ruse has been one of my finest performances ever. I’ll take a bow later, when I’m back in sequins.”

“But it couldn’t be Bea,” said Mom. “Where’s all the hair? Did you shave it off?”

“That’s a wig,” Bea explained.

“Where’s the makeup?” asked Dad.

“I took it all off, wiping a little of my soul off with it.”

“Where are the heels?” asked Maggie.

“Tucked inhumanely inside their Breakfast at Stiffany ’s box just yearning for Mamma to come on home!”

Bastian glared at me, bewildered, bemused, and somewhat annoyed. “So, this boyfriend thing was all an act? You’ve been lying to me—to everyone—all along?”

“Actually, it was my idea,” Connie said, biting her bottom lip and raising her hand. “I totally own up. This was my harebrained scheme.”

“And I went along with it,” added Bea. “And as punishment I now have a very nasty rash… and it’s not one of the fun ones.”

“I don’t care whose idea it was,” said Bastian, his gaze still leveled at me. “I’m just struggling to get over the idea that you lied to me.”

I barked out a laugh. “ You’re offended that I lied? Are you telling me the guy who left me is offended that I made up a story about a fake boyfriend? Is that what you’re saying right now?”

Bastian nodded. “Yeah. I kinda am.”

“Oh my God. Bastian, if anyone at this table is a liar, it’s you.”

“Benji, please settle down,” my mother said quietly.

“No, Mom. Bastian doesn’t get to take the high moral ground here. He’s a liar.”

“No. I never lied to you Benji. I hid things from you, but I never once lied.”

“What’s the difference? Explain to me the difference between lying, and secretly planning to leave me and move to Chicago. Explain to me why you of all people get to be offended by me pretending I have a boyfriend?”

“Because I was happy at the thought of you finally finding someone.”

“And why is that? So you no longer have to feel guilty about leaving me anymore? So you could pardon yourself for walking out on me with no explanation whatsoever, without a single fucking goodbye?”

“Benji, dial it down,” Dad said in a hushed tone from the head of the table.

“No, Dad. I need to get things off my chest. I wanna know why Bastian suddenly has my best interests at heart after all he’s done to me.”

“I’ve always wanted the best for you,” said Bastian. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

I scoffed so hard I almost spluttered. “Are you fucking serious?”

From under the table, I felt Connie’s foot nudge my leg. “Cuz, maybe take a breath and calm down. Deep breath, babe.”

I yanked my leg out of reach from her foot. “No! I don’t wanna calm down!”

Beside me, Bea squeezed my shoulder. “Sugar-pie, your cousin’s right. Take it easy before you blow a gasket.” She did a double take. “Oh my God, was that a reference to a car part? I really do need to snap out of it, this lumberjack act is deforesting my fabulousness!”

But I wasn’t listening to her. I didn’t want to listen to anyone. All I wanted to do at that moment was finally wage my war against Bastian, a battle that had been festering inside me unfought, unwon, for far too long. “Tell me, Bastian. How the fuck do you expect me to believe you’ve always wanted the best for me? You destroyed our life together, you ruined the perfect plans for our happily-ever-after, you gave me no warning whatsoever… and then you broke my fucking heart. How is that wanting the best for me? I really wanna know.”

“Benji, settle down,” said Dad, his voice firmer than before.

“I’ve told you,” said Bastian, emotion welling in his eyes now. “There are things I’ve hidden from you, things I’ve wanted to tell you but never could.”

“What kind of things? Were you having an affair? Were you seeing someone else? Had you already met Sterling? Or did you just give up our dream? Did you just give up on us?”

“Benji, that’s enough,” warned Dad, his voice getting even louder.

“It wasn’t like that at all,” answered Bastian, arms crossed over his chest as though my fight was pummeling him into his shell. “I’ve never given up on us. I know it looks that way, but it’s not true.”

“Bullshit!”

“Benji!” Dad said, his tone angrier than I had ever heard him.

I didn’t care. If I was ready to fight Bastian, I was ready to take on my father too. “Stay out of this, Dad. I know you and Mom want to throw yourselves into the middle of our lives, but it’s not your place. This is between me and Bastian.” I turned to my ex-lover. “Tell me, what the fuck are you hiding?”

A tear streaked down Bastian’s face and I knew I’d broken him. “Please, not now.”

“Benji!” Dad snapped. “Stop it! Now!”

“No! I’m the one who had my fucking heart ripped out of my chest! I’m the one who had to pick up the pieces of my fucking life and try to glue them back together, little by little, day by day! I’m the one who lost the only man I’m ever gonna love… and I fucking wanna know why!”

At that moment, my father brought his fist down on the table like a sledgehammer—making all the cutlery jingle and everyone jump—and roared at the top of his voice, “ Because he has cancer! ”