Benny & Ray 138

The Crucible

Ben opened the front door of 2926 North Octavia Ave and came in from the cold, the morning paper, haphazardly tossed on the front porch a moment before by a bleary-eyed deliveryman, dangling from his loose grasp.  He dropped it on the hall table.  Pearson slowly made her way to Ben, having emerged from her spot on the parlor floor as soon as she heard the key in the lock, her long toenails clicking on the hardwood as she padded to him.  He stooped and opened his palm, let her smell him.  She licked his hand and whined, perhaps sensing his mood.  Ben went to his knees and briefly put his arms around his little Husky, yearning, suddenly, for Dief. He buried his nose in the scruff of her neck, and inhaled her scent.

He rose and slowly made his way to the kitchen, going to the pantry.  He contemplated his choice of morning beverage.  Earl Grey tea, Darjeeling tea, Oolong.  No. Coffee.  He needed coffee. He grabbed the can of ground beans and prepared the strong brew.

Ben had slept only briefly last night.  After he heard Ray finally give up on him and retreat to their bedroom, he’d escaped the bathroom, grabbed a pillow and extra blankets from the hall closet and crept downstairs.  He had not wanted to sleep in the same bed as Raymond Vecchio, last night, not after what he had done. 

He’d made up the couch and slipped under the covers.  At some point he dozed off, only to be abruptly roused from a nightmare.  He couldn’t get back to sleep after that.

He tossed and turned for quite some time before finally rising at two a.m. and dressing.  He went for a drive through the city, finding himself after a time, on the shore of Lake Michigan. 

Ben Fraser got out in twenty degree temperatures, and walked.  He zipped up his old leather coat, jammed his hands down in his pockets, and headed north.  He walked for a long while, bearing north and east, sometimes concrete hollowly ringing beneath his feet, sometimes boardwalk, sometimes sand and pebbles.  Ben gazed across the dark void of the lake, seeing beyond the horizon in his mind’s eye.  His vision cast out.   On the other side of the lake was the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, and beyond that, Lake Superior, and beyond that, White River, Wawa, Nakina. He contemplated a myriad of futures as he walked on.  In some of them Ray was a fugitive from the law, moving from place to place, Ben never knowing where he was.  In some of them, Ray was imprisoned at County Cook Penitentiary or even further away.  He thought of himself and Carie looking at Ray from behind a Plexiglas barrier.  In some of these futures, he and Carie were with Ray on the lam. In some of them they resided in Canada, and in some they lived in the U.S.     He didn’t know what the future held now; his mind was a maelstrom.

What Ray had done.  What Ray had done was inexplicable, inexcusable.  Ben was furious, and profoundly disappointed. 

He had thought, after all his years with Ray, that Ray would understand the importance of living a life of virtue.  That it was possible, still.  Even in this society, even in this time, to do the right thing, no matter what.  Ray had failed him.  And he had failed Ray, too, for him not to have impressed upon Ray this simple tenet that was the cornerstone of his life.

Or perhaps he was just naïve, foolish.  He remembered asking Ray once, as they scaled up the city hall building one night to gain entry into the city council meeting, ‘do I expect too much from people?’ Did he? 

As he turned his collar up and walked along the water’s edge, Ben thought of himself and Victoria, huddled together under their makeshift lean-to, trying to survive the brutal storm.  He had wanted her, desperately, to live.  And he had wanted, after seeing to her survival, to let her go, to see her move on into a full and happy life, a life that included him.  But he hadn’t.  He’d done his duty.

Ben had walked on for hours through the frigid darkness until he could no longer feel his toes and the tips of his ears and nose.  Satisfied at being rendered numb, he turned again, toward the car, now so many miles away. 

By the time he returned to Ray’s big SUV, the sky was lightening.  He turned over the engine and cranked the heat.  His extremities stung as feeling returned to them. Ben sat in the car, facing east, and talked to his dad for a few minutes.  He asked for guidance.  His dad, for once, did not appear this time, remaining firmly ensconced in the afterlife. Ben put the car in drive and headed home.  He was exhausted. Utterly bereft.

Ben had retrieved the Sun-Times from the foyer, and sat down with his coffee to peruse the front page headlines, to distract himself.  There was nothing but crime, crime in the city, crime across the U.S., crime in the mid East, crime all over the world. Ben tossed the paper away in disgust.

He heard light footsteps on the stairs.  Ma.  He put on his best face just as she turned the corner, squared his shoulders.  He smiled. “Good morning.”

“Morning. You’re up early,” she commented mildly.  She pulled her big flannel robe around herself tighter, securing her body from the chilly air. She took a closer look at Ben as she passed him. Alarmed, she pressed her open palm to his forehead.

“I feel fine, Ma,” he said wanly.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” he said.  But he could tell she did not believe him. “Would you like some coffee? He asked.  He stood and pulled out a kitchen chair for her.  Served her coffee.

Ma cupped her mug, but made no move to drink it.  She sat back and peered into his eyes, waiting expectantly, patiently; she knew her son.

After a couple of awkward minutes, Ben mustered up the courage to finally ask what was on his mind.  “Ma, did you ever hear of a man named Guy Rankin?”

She gave him a warning look. “Why do you ask?”

“I was thinking of something tonight.  Something I was told years ago.  Francesca told me once, that Ray had had a fight with Rankin…that Ray assaulted him pretty severely.”

“The man was going to rape his sister.”

“But—

“But nothing. Benton.  The man would have raped my daughter if her brother had not been there to save her.”

“But there are laws.”

“The law would not have saved my daughter then and there.”

“Ray almost lost his shield for it, Ma.”

“Ray would have found other work, if it had come to that.”  Ben gazed into his adopted mother’s hazel eyes. He found no ambiguity there.

Ben acquiesced, tilting his head toward her.

Sophia finally took a sip from her steaming, fragrant mug.  “What made you think of Guy Rankin? Has something happened?”

He nodded again, not quite meeting her eye.  “Yes.”

“What is it?”

“The men who beat up Tommy’s attackers…”

“Yes.”

“Ray was involved. He set it up.”

Sophia dropped the mug she was cradling with a resounding thug, sloshing the brown liquid over the side.  She was silent for a long moment before finally inhaling, saying “I’m shocked—but not surprised. Ray protects his own.  You of all people should know that.”

“Ray could not only lose his shield for this, Ma, he could go to jail for a long time.”

“Do the police know?”

“They are very close to knowing.”

“Oh, Dio mio! What can we do?”

“There’s not anything we can do, except let fate take its course. We can get him a good attorney.”

Sophia looked stunned. “You mean there’s nothing more you would do for my son than that?”

“I’m an officer of the law, Ma.”

“Ray is your husband and your child’s father.”  She said it coldly.  Sophia had never, ever been unkind to him.  The words stung. She reached out and grabbed his wrist, insistently.

He pulled away from her, averting his gaze.  “I’d better go and check on Carie.”  He quickly escaped, moving up the stairway. 

At the top of the stairs, he paused.  He glanced toward their bedroom.  The door was open a crack, no doubt an invitation from Ray. He opened the door further and stood in the doorway for a moment, gazing at his love.  Ray looked so young when he slept, so small, so vulnerable, curled up on his side of the bed.  Ben smiled sadly.  It was hard to believe sometimes that this thin and quiet and peaceful being transformed to such a dynamo in his waking hours, loud-mouthed, brazen, hot-tempered, blazingly passionate.

Ben shut the door quietly, and moved on.

He went into his daughter’s room.  Carie, as he had anticipated, was awake.  She lay quietly, thumb in her mouth, clutching her Pooh.  Ben sat on the bed, gently plucked her thumb from her mouth, and extricated her.  He placed his sleepy-eyed girl on his lap, hugged her, and kissed her hair.  “Good morning, my pumpkin.  Did you sleep well?”

She silently nodded, and placed her thumb back in her mouth.  She was loose-limbed like a rag doll, clearly not yet ready to ‘rise and shine’ on this cold winter’s morning.  Ben cradled her close and sat back on the bed, leaning against the headboard.  Carie curled into his arms and closed her eyes, audibly sucking her digit. 

Ben contemplated his daughter.  She wore a red blanket sleeper, not all that different-looking than his old red serge.  Carie was growing like a blade of crabgrass these days, the bones of her limbs rapidly lengthening as she approached her third birthday.  Her long legs had outgrown the blanket sleeper he had just bought for her in February.  Ben had frugally cut the feet out of them so that she could get another winter’s wear out of them.  Ben had placed on her feet last night white socks.  She pulled them off during the night.  Carie held her feet together, toes curled, in an unconscious attempt to keep them warm. Ben drew the bedspread over them.  They warmed each other in a small cocoon. Ben’s body relaxed.

Ben suddenly jerked awake, glancing at the clock automatically.  He sat back with relief; he had only been dozing a few minutes.  Ben gathered his daughter up, and despite her protests, got her ready for daycare.  He bathed her, dressed her in jeans and a pink turtleneck, and brushed her teeth.  He combed out her wild hair, taming it and twisting it into a long French braid. It was somewhat crooked since she refused to remain still during the braiding, but it would do.

He took her downstairs to Ma.  She was already whipping up some hot Cream of Wheat for Carie, and poured juice in her sippy cup.  Ma kissed her and set her at the table and Ben went back upstairs to get himself ready.

Ray’s door was still shut. He contemplated waking him, but abstained.

He showered, shaved, and dressed in his black Calvin Klein two-button suit. When he returned downstairs, Ma had made him eggs and toast.  “Thank you kindly,” he murmured, unsure of her mood.  He glanced at her face.  Her expression was closed, and she avoided his inquiring gaze.  They’d never before been at odds. Ben did not care for the way it made him feel.

Ma fed Carie as Ben ate his breakfast.  They made small talk, avoiding discussing anything unpleasant. Ben finally rose from the table.

“Ma,” he said.  “Would you please remind Ray that he needs to pick Carie up at three?  She has to an appointment with Dr. Bernardino for boosters. And I have to go to the library after class to do some research, and I’ll be late getting in.”  It was going to be a long day for Ben, especially with next to no sleep.

He went into the hallway to retrieve his long black coat.  He returned to the kitchen and kissed his daughter good-bye. 

“Bye-bye, Daddy.  See you later, Crocogator.”

Ben smiled at her mix-up.  “After while, Allidile. Good-bye, Ma.”

He grabbed his house keys and his book bag from the kitchen counter, and retreated. He opened the front door to a blast of cold air.

“Benito!”  Ma had followed him.  “Caro.”  She pointed to her cheek.

He stepped back into the room and kissed her.

“Bene. I’ll talk to Raimundo as soon as he wakes up,” she said. She smiled gently.

“Thanks, Ma,” he said.

Ben Fraser took the short walk to the El.  After a brief ride, he arrived at the 27.  He dropped his bag at his desk and made a bee line for Harding Welsh’s office.

“You’re early,” Welsh commented after Ben rapped and let himself in. “Yes.  I wondered if I might speak with you.”

“Something the matter, Detective?”

“Yes, sir.  Yes, there is.”

Welsh looked instantly concerned.  “Come in,” he said.  “Shut the door.”

Ben entered and seated himself.  “I…I have something to tell you.”

“What is it, son?”

Ben Fraser took a deep breath and began.