Benny & Ray 113

Strange Bedfellows

Detectives Benton Fraser and Stanley Kowalski sat in a non-descript car from the motor pool, low in their seats and observing the couple, arms wrapped around one another, on the sidewalk. They had tracked them since they entered the restaurant, Stanley’s ex preceding Ben’s ex by six minutes.  Now the two were making their amorous good-byes for the entire world to see, on the sidewalk in front of Café Luciano where they had just had lunch.

Stan stared at them with a mixture of outrage, envy, sadness. “Disgusting,” he remarked, shaking his head in wonder.  He wondered what Stella saw in a man like Ray Vecchio. 

Ben nodded in agreement, sharing the same emotions. “Kissing right out in the middle of the street like that. Flaunting it all over the place.”  He wondered what Ray saw in a woman like Stella Kowalski. They were strange bedfellows indeed.

Stan said, “We’ve got laws in this city and I'm sworn to enforce them. And one of those laws bans lascivious acts. Page 118 of the 1890 Illinois Criminal Code. And that, my friend, is definitely a lascivious act.”

“Old laws are the best laws, Stanley.”

“That they are, Fraser. Should we go bust’em?” 

“No.”

“You sure? It’d be fun.”

Ben sat and morosely stared.  The two had finally stopped kissing, but still kept loose arms around one another as they talked.  Stella was smiling, her face turned up toward Ray as she peered into his eyes.  Ray must have told her a joke because she suddenly burst into laughter. Ray grinned.  Ben felt like his guts were being ripped out.

He shook his head “No.  Let’s go.  Let’s get out of here.”

“Oh come on! Let’s go shake their peaches a little bit.”

“No, Stanley! No!”

“Alright, buddy, alright. Alright.” Stanley said, placating. He sighed as he started up the engine, pulled out into the busy afternoon traffic, and they went on their way.

VVVVVV

Ray had dropped the bomb on Ben in the basement of the house on Octavia Street. He had been seeing a girl.  And her name was Stella.  No, he wasn’t sure where this thing with Stella was going, maybe it would lead someplace serious, maybe not.  But he wanted to give it a try, see where it went.

But why, Ray?! He had cried. Why?

Because I think it’d be nice to be…normal again.  To not have to worry that one of us will get our heads bashed in for being together.  And besides, me and you…we’re too different in the end, Ben.

It had raised the hair on the back of Ben’s neck to hear Ray call him Ben like that.  Like he didn’t belong to Ray anymore.  Like he was some stranger. 

He had left the house, snatching his daughter up and absconding with her before he made a scene. 

Every day that he could, he tailed Ray, watching him go to that woman.  An act of masochism, he supposed. 

He got to speak to Ray on the days that he took Carie, but Ray kept him at arm’s length.  They sat one night at the kitchen table with Maria, and she helped them untwine their finances.  She played the coolly professional CPA for the two of them, helping them figure out how much Ray should contribute to Carie’s care.  Ray had no idea how much things cost anymore.  Ben had taken care of their finances for years; Ray had only concerned himself with his allowance.   

The days turned into a hellish routine for Ben.  Rise early, get himself and Carie ready for work and daycare.  Stanley would come a half an hour early to pick them up.  Ben would drop Carie off at Ray’s cousin Rosalie’s or his aunt Marie Therese’s.  He and Stanley performed their duties, and at night, Stan took him to his sitter’s for Carie, and then home again. 

Ben made their dinners, bathed and read to his daughter and put her to bed.  And then he crawled into the closet, shut the door, and he cried until he was spent.

VVVVVV

Benton was awakened by the sound of hammering that suddenly ceased.  He cautiously opened his eyes to dark.  Confused, he sat up, ear turned to catch the sound again, but there was only silence.  The only thing Ben could hear at the moment was the distant sound of a garbage truck on its rounds, rumbling along and compacting the city’s rubbish.  He lay back again, and wondered if he had only dreamt the sound.  He closed his eyes again.

The hammering began once more.  Ben opened his eyes. He sat up again and let his eyes roam the darkened room.  The noise went on. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear that the noise was coming from inside his closet. 

With a weary and cautious curiosity, he climbed out of bed.  As he took the few steps across the room to the closet, he also heard a handsaw… cutting southern yellow pine, from the sound of it.

Ben put his ear to the closet door and listened closely.  Yes, there was definitely construction going on behind the closet door.  He opened it to find his father busying himself in an office behind the clothes hanging in the closet.

His father waved congenially, smiled.  “Come on in. Shut the door, its cold out there.” 

“In actual fact, its 22 degrees Celsius,” Ben replied, stepping into the closet and looking about.

“What's that in real temperature?”

“It's uh...how, how did...when....what is this?” He indicated the large room his father was constructing with a wave of his hand.

“It's my office! I need to catch up on my work.”

“I wasn't aware you had work.”

“Well, there you go, you haven't been listening.”

Bob Fraser had been haunting him for three weeks now, sometimes cajoling, sometimes supportive, oftentimes lecturing.  He appeared at odd moments, sometimes staying only a few minutes, other times setting himself up on the couch and refusing to leave, sharing with Benton stories about Buck and Sam Dalton and Uncle Tiberius.  He sat and talked to the dog. He whittled. He did crossword puzzles to pass the time.

He watched over the two of them for hours sometimes, his Ben and his Carie, making sure neither came to harm.  It was the least he could do.

VVVVVV

A gruesome discovery was made in the Windy City just before dawn, and Detectives Fraser and Kowalski had the case. A headless body had appeared along the shore of the lake, sans hands, sans feet.  Ben had jumped into the investigation head first once they left the crime scene, and had immersed himself for twelve straight hours.  Since he and Stanley had become partners, not a single one of their cases had gone unsolved.  Not one.  Ben intended to keep it that way. 

But when five o’clock came, Ben knew he needed to get Carie.  There was no Ray to go and pick her up and take her home and care for her.  Yet somehow, five became six before Ben called Rosalie and let her know he would be there soon.  Six became seven by the time Stan pulled up to the curb of Rosalie’s house. 

Ben rushed in, full of apologies.  Carie was sleeping.  “How was she today?” he asked the woman who so strongly resembled her late sister Valerie that they were often mistaken for twins when young.

“She was running a fever this morning.  Did you know that?”

“Oh! Oh, dear! No, I didn’t realize. I’m sorry.  I should have kept her home.” 

His daughter slept in a play pen, clutching her ever-present Pooh by the neck. 

“I gave her some children’s Tylenol earlier.  She’s doing alright now, but I suspect she’s going to wake up with one doozy of a cold in the morning.”

Rosalie was correct.  In the morning, Carie was as limp as a rag doll when he picked her up, resisting his attempts to rouse her from bed.  She was extremely congested.

Ben called in to Lt. Welsh, and stayed home with his daughter, clearing her nose from time to time with a nasal aspirator, and rubbing her chest with Vic’s.  He fed her. He gave her lots of liquids. He read to her and rocked her to sleep at night.  He now sat in the mostly dark room, Pearson at his feet.

Staring down at her sleeping face while he gently rocked her, Ben suddenly felt overwhelmed with the enormity of his task of raising this child and keeping her from harm, educating her.  Making her happy.  He hadn’t been doing so good of a job of making her happy lately.  The more Carie had learned to talk, the more she and Ray had bonded.  Carie seemed to prefer Ray to him now.  He could understand that. They were a lot alike.  They had the same passionate temperament, that same spark.

Carie had turned positively sullen with Ray not around.  Ray had the power to make Carie laugh.  He was silly with her, and they liked to roughhouse.  He often tossed her up in the air and she would squeal with delight.  Ray was a different sort of parent than he was.

He realized he had not given Ray enough credit. 

God, he missed Ray.  Especially today. It was late and Ray still hadn’t called yet.  Ben had hoped against hope that he would, even if he only still cared for him a little.

He missed Ray so badly that he felt like he couldn’t breathe, all of a sudden.

“Easy, son.  Easy.”  His father had appeared over his shoulder.

Ben did his best to compose himself. 

“I got you something, son.” Bob stepped around to Ben and revealed what he had concealed behind his back. 

Ben burst into giggles while tears slipped from his eyes.  “That’s great, Dad.  Thanks.  An imaginary cake.”

Bob shrugged.  “Best I could do under the circumstances.  Happy Birthday, son,” Bob Fraser said. 

Ben produced a wobbly smile. “Thanks, Dad.”

Bob took a seat on the floor in front of his son, and kept him company late into the night.