Page 5 of I Wish You All the Best

“Mom.” I looked at her, and she kept looking from me to Dad and then back to me, not saying anything. “Please?”

But she didn’t say anything. And Dad kept getting angrier. He never actually yelled at me. Dad’s voice was that scary sort of calm. We all just sort of sat there. “You’re our son, Ben. This just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Dad, I can—”

“Get out of my house, just get out of here.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Please.” I begged them both. “Don’t do this.”

Dad led me to the door, and Mom followed on his heels. I just kept begging and begging, but they never did anything.

“Mom! Please!”

“God doesn’t want this for you, Ben.”

I begged her not to say that, and then I started crying. But that must not have been enough. The door closed, and I wanted it to open back up. I wanted this to be some cruel joke on their part. One I could forgive them for later. I tried the knob, but it was locked, even the spare key they hid under this fake rock didn’t work because they’d locked the dead bolt too.

I stop myself from rocking back and forth in the stiff chair, hoping, praying that Hannah can find me.

What could I even do now? They wouldn’t take me back, would they? Would I even go back? Would Hannah have some answers? I don’t even know what the hell I’m supposed to tell her, or if she’ll even be able to help me. God, what if she’s as bad as Mom and Dad? She can’t be, can she?

If only I’d just kept my goddamn mouth shut.

I don’t want to believe that, but it’s been ten years. Since she graduated, since we last talked to each other, since she left me alone with them. She could be a totally different person. The kind who hates who I am. But then again, I thought Mom and Dad might not either.

“Ben?”

I jump at the voice, not daring to look up.

“Benji?” It’s been forever since someone called me that. “Come on.”

It seems impossible for Hannah to already be here, but who knows.

“Hannah?” I murmur. My throat feels like it’s full of something. It’s harsh and prickly.

“Come on. These are your socks, right?” She picks them up carefully. The disgust on her face is humiliating.

I nod. “They’re ripped.”

“They’re wet too.” She balls them up and throws them in her purse. “Let’s get you home.”

I shake my head. “Don’t want to.” I feel like a child, but the thought of going back there—I can’t go back there.

“I meant my place. Come on.” Hannah puts her hand on my shoulders so she can grab under my arm and help pick me up. I guess I have been sitting here for an hour, because all the blood starts rushing into my legs again, filling them with that television-static feeling I hate. We walk out slowly, each step sending a sharp sting up my spine. I’m silently praying that the cashiers have found something else to do so they won’t see us.

Hannah’s car is still running, thankfully. When she’s finished helping me into the passenger’s seat, buckling my seat belt for me, she bolts across to the driver’s side. “I should’ve turned your seat warmer on, sorry.”

At least the car is warm.

“You feeling okay?” Hannah puts the car into reverse and backs out of the parking space, glancing between me and the rear windshield.

“Yeah,” I say, even though “okay” might be the thing I’m furthest from now. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? Everything is … it’s gone.

“Are you hungry?”