Benny & Ray 108

Roil

 

Ben sat and whittled a piece of white pine wood while Carie napped.  He sat on the floor in front of his big stone fireplace, listening to the embers snap. It was especially chilly today, and a light rain sprinkle was falling.  They had been inside all afternoon. He sighed restlessly.

 

Ben and Carie’s vacation time passed slowly once they returned from Inuvik to Yellowknife.

 

Ben had visited Tuk for less than twenty-four hours.  He was happy to discover that some cousins of Victoria and Albert still lived in town.  He dropped in and visited them, but excused himself after a short time because he could tell by their quizzical expressions that they did not remember him well; they were polite, but extremely reserved as the Inuit tended to be.  He visited the small library that his grandparents had helped set up.  He reminisced with an elderly librarian who remembered William and Margaret Fraser well.  Ben had had to shout to make himself heard, something a bit awkward for a library. In Tuk, he later had found a place to eat, then had gotten himself delivered back to the airfield, and back to Inuvik he went. 

 

He and Carie had stayed in Inuvik for the rest of the week before returning to the cabin in Yellowknife. Carie and Maggie had bonded strongly over the visit.  They both cried upon separation.  Ben hugged and kissed his little sister good-bye.  His sister whose eyes were so much like Dad’s.

 

Ben now found the silence of the isolated little cabin deafening.  He felt at loose ends for the better part of most days. There wasn’t much to do around the cabin except keep it clean, and cook and eat.  If Carie let him, he could get a few chapters of reading done. He sometimes listened to NPR at night on the little radio that Ray had purchased for the cabin a long time ago.  What he really wanted right now was to get dressed up with Ray and go out for the night on the town, perhaps to the opera.  Or to go see the Cubbies play.  Or simply stay in with Ray and make love. 

 

Instead, he was carving a figure of an elk, a small gift for Ray. Were he alone, he could have been a little more adventurous, but with Carie present, he was somewhat limited in his activities.  He had taken her on some longer hikes, strapped into a backpack carrier, but even so, he limited his range. Carie didn’t care one whit about how beautiful the landscape was, how refreshing the air was, how clear the rock-tumbled water was. She was just as happy back home in Chicago, in Peanut Park.

 

He wondered if he should look into coming home a couple of days earlier.  He had had his fill of silence and empty landscape.  If nothing else, this journey had taught Ben that Raymond Vecchio was his anchor in the world, and rightly or wrongly, he was adrift without him. 

 

He missed Ray.  He missed the scent of his spicy cologne. He missed his intense green eyes.  His nasally whine and his short barks of annoyance.  He even missed Ray’s eye-rolling, just a little. He missed the way Ray’s tongue felt, caressing the most intimate places of his body.

 

Yes. It was time to go home to Chicago, where be belonged. He’d call the airlines in the morning.

 

Restlessly, he put his woodcarving down.  He grabbed his dog-eared copy of Ayn Rand’s “Atlas Shrugged” and began to thumb through it.  He had already read it from cover to cover on this trip, and he really didn’t care to read it again.  But he had nothing else to do.  Ben tossed the book aside, and stood and paced the small cabin.

 

He paced for several minutes.

 

He decided to put on water for tea, for lack of anything better to do. Ben busied himself with tea preparations, selecting an Earl Grey from his small tin of assorted teas.  He rooted through the cupboards for the last of the pemmican Maggie had made him.

 

Locating it, he chewed the dried meat, relishing it.  He stood and listen to the heating water begin to roil.

 

The silence was pierced by a long loud ring.  His cell phone.  Eagerly, Ben swallowed the last of his pemmican and dove for the phone.  It could only be one person.  He found himself smiling with anticipation.   He wanted to tell Ray he would be home soon.

He grabbed the phone on the second ring. “Hello, Ray?” 

“Hey, Benny, how's the vacation going?” 

“It's everything a former Mountie could ask for, Ray. Lots of fresh air, plenty of exercise. How are things in Chicago?”  He heard the TV in the background, distant voices acting out some drama.

“Well, you know, Benny. Chicago's Chicago. Listen, I'm just calling to let you know that I may not be there to pick you and the baby up when you get back.  I might get tied up in some things here, and uh…I might not be able to get away.”

Ben was immediately crestfallen.  “Oh….Well that's no hardship. We can manage.  I know how to hail a cab, Ray.”

“I know you know how to get a cab, Benny. That's not the point. I'm just calling to let you know that I may not be there to pick you up, that’s all.”

“What’s wrong, Ray?”

“Nothing’s wrong.  I'm just calling to let you know that I'd like to be there to pick you up but if I can't be there, it's not because I didn't want to be. It's because something came up.”

“You're sure everything's all right?”

“Look, Benny, I’m just calling, that’s all. If a person is supposed to meet another person at a certain time and a certain place and he can't be there, he usually calls him to let him know.” 

“So everything is all right then?” 

“Yeah, Benny. Everything is all right.”

“Well, that's good to hear, Ray.”

“Listen, uh, I want you to have a safe trip, Benny. Kiss the baby for me, will ya?” 

There was a long silence, as Ben analyzed the undertone and connotation of Ray’s last statement.

“All right, Ray,” Ben finally answered in the smallest of voices. 

There was silence on the other end for perhaps five seconds.  Ben closed his eyes and listened to Ray breathing.  Finally, Ray disconnected.  

The tea kettle began to whistle.  Ben’s heart hammered.  The tea kettle went ignored.