Benny & Ray 107

Inuvik

Ben pulled the covers up over his head without opening his eyes.  It was cold. Too cold for a Chicago spring. He wasn’t in Chicago.  He was home.  His mind reminded him a second before he opened his eyes. Home!  His eyes snapped open.

The high northern sun had awakened Ben, yet he did not feel particularly rested.  Yesterday’s journey had been a long and grueling one.  Traveling with Carie had proved to be a challenge, to say the least.

Ray hadn’t booked the tickets with Carie in mind.  They’d had to change planes in Toronto, Calgary and Edmonton before finally arriving in Yellowknife.  Carie was nearly “fit to be tied” before they’d even made it to Calgary.  At least she had slept on the final leg, giving him some peace.

Ben turned toward his daughter’s portable play pen.  Carie was sitting up, clasping Pooh close to her, and calmly sucking her thumb.  When she saw that Ben was awake, she dropped Pooh and held out her arms.

Ben rose and gathered her up, planting kisses on her soft cheeks and smoothing her wild hair back.  Keeping her thumb firmly in her mouth, she laid her face against his face.  Ben could hear her suckling strongly.  She grasped a handful of his hair, for security.

“Do you have to pee?” he asked.

“Mmm-huh,” she muttered around thumb.

He gently extracted her thumb from her mouth. 

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Do you want to snuggle with Daddy for a little while?”  He could really use another half-hour of bed rest.

She shook her head. “We play, Daddy.”

Ben sat on the low bed with Carie on his lap.  “Baby, it’s four thirty in the morning.”

“We play now?”

“Carie—

There was really no use in trying to explain extended daylight hours and a difference of latitudes to a twenty-seven month old.  Ben instead gave her another kiss on the cheek. He stood.  “Let’s go downstairs and have some breakfast first. Hold on to Daddy’s neck, please.”  He carefully negotiated the steep narrow stairs that was hardly more than a ladder.  Not the most child-friendly structure in the world.  If they came up more often, he’d have to install regulation stairs in the small cabin, but he wasn’t sure that there was even room for that. He should really move her playpen downstairs so they could both sleep on the lower level.

He reflexively checked her diaper as soon as his bare feet hit the cold floor.  “We need to change you,” he commented.  He located her diaper bag from the pile of possessions he’d dropped near the front door, and pulled out a new diaper and a pad.  He unfolded the pad and gently laid her down on the floor in front of the low-burning pellet stove while she mutely cooperated while her wet diaper was changed.  Ben yawned hugely, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

Carie’s thumb had found its way back to her mouth.  After he redressed her in her warm footed pair of pajamas, he gently pulled the thumb out again.  She gave a little grunt of frustration. 

“Papa!” she said.  “We play with Papa.”

“Papa’s not here, baby,” he softly replied. 

“Papa,” she said again.

“Let’s have some breakfast.  Would you like oatmeal, Carie, or would you like cream of wheat?”

“Papa!” Carie yelled, incensed.

“Shhh. Control your voice,” he soothed.

What a one-track mind, he thought as he stood and went to the bathroom.  Sound like anybody you know, Benny? came the unbidden voice in his head.  Ben turned up the stove to disperse the chill in the air.

He used the commode, leaving the door open just a crack to hear Carie, and then washed his hands, and shuffled to the kitchen to put on water to boil.  He thought he might make oatmeal with banana.

VVVVVV

Ben drove them a few miles out to Fraser Depot in his rented Jeep Cherokee. He checked up on his daughter in his rear-view mirror.  Carie in the back was securely strapped into her car seat.  She was perched high, clutched her Pooh bear by the neck, softly vocalizing to herself.  Ben smiled with the sudden burst of love that he felt.  Carie looked so earnest.  She seemed to be watching the scenery roll by, lost in whatever thoughts babies had.

The highway to the Depot was desolate, but beautiful. It gently curved, sometimes running parallel to a broad rocky creek, sometimes crossing it.  The tires rumbled over the low bridges that spanned the creek. There were no other cars within sight of him.

A cold rain had fallen during the night in Yellowknife, but now the sun was out. The sky was crystal blue, a deep azure.  The air was dry.  Ben’s body, used now to the Chicago clime, told him it was late October.  He had to remind himself that it was in fact the middle of May. 

Ben’s mind cast back to the distant Chicago, in America.  Home.  Had they been at home, he and Ray would probably be taking Carie to the Dunes right now, taking Pearson along too.  For his birthday, Ben would ask that Ray take Carie and him to the Dunes for the day. 

The Dunes were special to him.  He remembered the time that Ray first took him there.  They had only become lovers that winter, and the Dunes was their first warm weather trip.  They had had a wonderful time swimming in Lake Michigan together all afternoon. Dief had joined them in the water too, earnestly dogpaddling alongside Ben as he raced to overtake Ray in a swim contest.

After the sun set and everybody else disappeared, they had made out in the car.  He remembered the overwhelming intensity of the love he felt for Ray at that moment.  It was so intense that it had overtaken both of them; they had both cried.  The Bee Gees’ tune “How Deep is Your Love” played on the radio.  Now he softly sang to himself the most meaningful part, the part that had prompted him to burst into tears all those years ago.  

I believe in you
You know the door to my very soul
You’re the light in my deepest darkest hour
You’re my savior when I fall

The lyrics still had the power to make him misty-eyed. Ray had been there for him, when he was as lonely as he could be, after his father was killed.  He’d always be grateful to Ray for that.

Ben wondered at the depth of Ray’s love now.  They were so different, he and Ray.  Truly they were fire and ice.  And fire and ice eventually degraded one another.

He felt so much lately that Ray was disappointed in him, and he felt resentment for it.   Ray Vecchio was a selfish man.  Not in the material sense (although one could argue that he had his miserly moments).  Rather, Ray was emotionally selfish.  Ben sometimes felt he had been consumed by Ray.  He had become an American citizen for Ray, converted to Ray’s religion, fathered a child at Ray’s behest. 

Whatever happened to Ben Fraser? What happened to the man who didn’t have and didn’t need friends and had no permanent home, could fit everything he owned on his back, and prided himself for these attributes?

His relationship with Ray had left him vulnerable. I’ve gone so soft, he chided himself.   He never thought he’d allow that to happen. Ben felt sometimes that he resided inside of Ray, having been consumed by him, and yet Ray’s hunger for him wasn’t satisfied.  He didn’t know what else Ray could possibly want from him. Benton Fraser had nothing of his own left to give to Ray Vecchio.

And when Ben had tried to reclaim just a little bit of his independence, by returning to school, or by spending time socially with Stanley, or even just by going off in a quiet corner somewhere to read a few chapters of a book, Ray complained. But Ray had no right to be angry at Ben.  It was he that should be angry. 

He tapped his fingernails on the steering wheel in frustration, unconsciously flooring the gas pedal. Fraser Depot finally came in sight, and disappeared. Ben mouthed a silent curse, pulled over, and did a three-point turn in the middle of the road.

The depot was tucked back underneath a shady glen, the low log cabin camouflaged in the dappled forest. Only the smallest sign announced its existence.

Ben turned into the small six-stall crushed gravel parking lot.

He immediately spotted the large brass plaque mounted on a low base, underneath the flags of Canada and the NT.  He recognized the semi-circle of trees planted around the flags as Picea glauca.

He parked.  “We’re here, Carie,” he said.  “Let’s go see Grandpa’s depot. Would you like to see the horses?”

“Daddy! Yeah!”

Ben climbed out into the chilly shade, and retrieved his daughter from the car seat.  He put her in her winter coat for the walk to the building.

Heads turned when Ben opened the door.  Two young male officers and an older man stood.  A middle-aged woman greeted him, standing also.  “Mr. Fraser,” she smiled.  “Welcome back.”

VVVVVV

Ben had certainly not expected to get the VIP treatment on his informal visit.  Their C.O. was Sgt. Nancy Davenport.  She did look very familiar, and she gently reminded him that their paths had crossed before.  She had been there, almost fourteen years ago, when he went over the Pass in a blinding winter storm to bring that fisherman to justice for fishing over the limit by dynamiting the river.  Goodness.  So long ago.  He, a different person then.

They had worn the serge for the occasion.  He felt a little embarrassed to be in only jeans and flannel.  He felt a twinge of regret and nostalgia, too, looking at those red uniforms.  Ray was right. They were bright.  Really, really bright. But he had looked good in it.

Carie was fascinated by the bright red uniforms, if not a little intimidated.  She shyly tucked her chin down when addressed by the friendly officers.  She threw herself at her Daddy’s leg, and he picked her up. 

Ben was disappointed to see that they had no horses here.  All patrol was by car.  Times were a’changing, indeed. He had hoped to show Carie the beautiful animals.  But they did put the flashing lights of the car on for her, and she seemed satisfied enough.

By early afternoon, Ben and Carie were back home in the silent, empty cabin. 

He was bored.

It would be three more days before Maggie and her fiancé were due to arrive for their visit to Yellowknife.

He retrieved his stowed cell phone, powered it up and thankfully, got three bars. A cell phone tower had gone up in his absence from Yellowknife.  He dialed his sister’s number, and asked if she wouldn’t mind a small change of plans.

VVVVVV

Inuvik.  His sister was there to greet him and Carie as they stepped off the small plane, on to the tarmac. She greeted them both with a warm hug.  She carried Carie while Ben toted their bags, guiding them to her battered GMC Jimmy.  The ride home from the small airfield was a short one. 

Maggie and Avery had just moved into their own house last month, a modest two bedroom just off MacKenzie Road. 

Ben finally met Avery, and deemed him a good man.  He was tall, thin and blond, rather  Nordic-looking, Ben thought.  He had a warm, firm handshake.  Avery had just returned from the Beaufort Sea.  He was a meteorological tech for the Canadian Forces, and often spent time on the Beaufort or the Bering. 

They got their possessions stowed at the house, and then Maggie and Avery drove further into town for dinner.

Ben rumbled along in the back, marveling at the view.  “This hardly seems like the same town anymore,” he said, wonder in his voice.

“When was the last time you were in Inuvik, Ben?” Avery asked.

“August 11, 1993.”

“You remember the date so easily.”

“It was the day of my grandmother’s funeral.  I could never forget.”

“I’m sorry,” Avery replied.  “I hadn’t intended to remind you of sad times.”

“Not at all.  I’ll always think of my time in Inuvik as the happiest times in my life.”

Maggie from the front passenger seat asked.  “When did you leave?”

“I was eight.  That’s when we moved to Alert.  We didn’t stay that long, though.  We moved to Tuk when I was in the sixth grade.  That’s really the time that I remember the most.”

They came up on a street sign. Ben leaned forward excitedly.  “I remember this!  Carie, look! That’s where your dad used to cross the street to get home.  The school was just down this road!”

“Not anymore,” Maggie said.  “They actually turned it into low income housing about five years ago.  There was such a need.  New school’s about two miles further down.”

“Mmph,” Ben softly commented.

Avery drove them to a small diner that overlooked Boot Lake.  The small party was seated in moments, in front of a panoramic picture window.  It wasn’t yet the height of the tourist season, so the place was only about a quarter full.

“Daddy, I want tater tots,” Carie said. Ben seated her in the provided high chair, and took his own seat.

Ben thumbed through the three page menu.  “Doesn’t look like they have tater tots, dear.  Would you like a hot dog?”

“No, Daddy. Tater tots.”

“How about some mac and cheese, and Daddy will cut up some hot dog for you?”

“TATER TOTS!!!”  Carie screamed. 

“Control yourself,” Ben soothed.

Carie grunted in frustration.

“All right, Carie,” Ben said.

The young waitress came to take their orders, and departed again. She had left warm bread and butter on the table.  The adults dug in to the aromatic bread, and made small talk.

“So Avery, tell me, how do you find your position with the Forces?  Maggie tells me this is a bit of change for you?”

“Oh yeah.  I used to strictly be a landlubber.  Now, they’ve got me out on the ocean.  I like it out there.  It’s kind of lonely sometimes, but it’s pretty peaceful, too.”  Avery monitored and reported weather, mostly warning operations at Air Force Wings and Squadrons, on Naval Ships at sea and on Land Force facilities.

“So do you—

“DADDY, I WANT TATER TOTS!!!”

“And I told you they don’t have tater tots here. And don’t interrupt, Carie.  You’re being rude.”

“But, Daddy, I want tater tots.”

Ben could feel the steam rising in his head as his daughter burst into tears.  “Carie?”  He turned her to face him, and looked in her face.  “You can’t always get what you want, when you want it.  Do you understand?”

“No!” she cried.  “No!”

Ben took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.  He deliberately reached for bread, and dipped his knife into the soft butter.  “So Avery, do you—

“I want tater tots! And I want Papa!” She grabbed her Pooh, who had been stuffed into the seat with her, and launched him across the room. 

“Anna Carolina!” Ben gritted his teeth.  “She’s a Vecchio, alright.”

“I’ll get it, Ben.” Maggie rose.

“Leave it,” he said. “Just leave it.”

Maggie slowly sat down, looking uncertain. 

Their food finally came, and they ate, making comfortable small talk.  Carie, after twenty minutes, very resentfully ate her then-cold hot dog and mac and cheese.  The Pooh was retrieved in short order.

 Although it was nearly nine o’clock by the time they departed the diner, the sun still shone brightly.  Carie had fallen asleep in her father’s arms about an hour into dinner.  And she did not wake when he settled her in for the night. 

They adults sat up until the sun set, watching it slip past the horizon, beyond the river, at 10:40 p.m.  Shortly after, Ben took a long hot shower, and retired for the evening.  He dreamt of his father, standing in the river in wading boots, beckoning to him.

VVVVVV

Benton Fraser chartered a plane to Tuktoyaktuk, since the ice road had long since thawed. He got a ride to his lodging for the night, the Hotel Tuk Inn, and walked from there, feeling his way toward the open water. Carie was safe at home with her aunt.  

It was a gray day, and damp.  The cold made his bones ache.  The scar tissue in his back and in his leg had tightened with the weather, making him feel old and stiff.  He did feel old.  Nearly twenty five years had passed since Ben had gazed at this particular bit of ocean.  The water here had flowed all over the planet, and returned again, only to depart yet again so soon.

Today, the sky was graphite gray.  The ceiling looked low and oppressive, angry.  The land was barren. Rocky.  Lichen-covered.  This was an inhospitable place. Every sarcastic comment Ray had ever made about this place was true.  He cannot imagine that he ever belonged here, and that he thought that it was good.

He stared out at the Beaufort Sea, hands tucked into pockets, feeling a sense of longing and loss and belonging all commingled. He could not help but weep.