Benny & Ray 30

Grief

Ray pulled into the driveway of the Vecchio residence at quarter past nine, forty five minutes later than they had planned.  Benny bit his tongue.  He really didn’t have any latitude to criticize.  Thanks to Ray, they were about twenty minutes behind schedule.  Ray had been tired this morning, and had shown great reluctance in rising for the day. 

But the other twenty-five minutes could be directly attributed to Ben.  Ray had been very moody this weekend, although he wasn’t articulating his exact reasons, so Ben had felt a little therapeutic sex had been in order this morning.  He had topped Ray spectacularly, to their mutual enjoyment.  Ray checked them out of their hotel room with a smile on his face. 

Ray had floored it, speeding down the 80, all the way home. Ben had wisely kept his comments to himself.  Ray was a safe driver; he’d never let anything happen to them. They had a plane bound for the NWT to catch, and if they missed it, it would mean waiting another thirty-six hours for the next flight.

At home, they had quickly packed for their two-week stay, loaded up the car, and had driven to Ray’s house say goodbye to the family and check on Dief.  Tony would take them to O’Hare.

Ben was the first to arrive at the front door of the Vecchio house.  After pushing the door open, he called “Hello!”  He could smell bacon frying, and coffee.  The air was pungent with the sharp slightly acrid smell of black pepper.  His mouth watered. 

Mother called “In the kitchen!” Ray had entered and closed the door behind them.  They both made their way to the rear of the house.

“Woof!” said Dief.  He was standing behind and slightly to the right of Mother, no doubt waiting for a morsel to accidentally drop to the floor.  He trotted over to Ben, sniffed his extended but empty hand, and then turned back to Mother.

“Nice to see you too, Dief,” Ben uttered. Mother had given her son a kiss, and then kissed his cheek as well.

“How was it?” she asked.

“It was okay,” Ray said nonchalantly.

“It was beautiful,” Ben clarified. “It was simple, elegant, and tasteful.” 

“Oh, wonderful,” Mother replied.  “Would you boys like some breakfast?”

“We gotta run, Ma. Tony ready?”

At that moment, Ray’s eldest sister appeared in robe and bare feet.  “Hey, you,” she said to her brother.  “Hey, Ben. It’s about time.  Tony’s been sittin’ around since eight.  What kept you?”

Ben felt the beginnings of a hot blush, starting in his neck, and rising to his eartips.  “Um,” he said.

“Just…stuff,” Ray said.

Maria looked from Ben to Ray and back again. She raised an eyebrow, smiled wickedly, but made no further comment about it.  “How was the wedding?” she asked, smoothly changing the subject.

“Beautiful and elegant,” Ben stated.

“Aw, that’s nice,” Maria said.

“I’m gonna go let Tony know we’re here.”  Ray exited the kitchen.

“How was Dief?” Ben asked, seating himself at the kitchen table across from Maria.

“He was perfect.  A little angel.”  Mother poured two cups of coffee without asking, and sat them down in front of her daughter and Ben.  

“Thank you,” Ben murmured.

“The kids took him to the park and showed him to all their friends,” Maria said.

“Woof!” Dief said, and chortled.

“Showing off, were you?” Ben asked. Dief came to Ben and rested his chin on his knee, begging for affection.  Ben placed his right hand on Dief’s head.  Man and wolf shared a brief rapport, peering into one another’s eyes.

“I want to thank you again for looking after him,” Ben said.  “I wish we were taking him, but it’s gotten so expensive and difficult to travel with large animals these days.”

“He’s no trouble,” Maria answered.

“Besides, it’s less stressful for the animal in the long run to not be subjected to air flight.  The noise, the air pressure,” Mother said.

Ben took a few sips of coffee and mother and daughter chatted amiably, discussing their plans for the day.  After offering breakfast, which Ben declined, Mother sat down to bacon, eggs, and toast.  Maria had made an egg sandwich and skipped the bacon.  “You looking forward to your vacation, Benito?” Mother politely asked. 

“Very much so. Although this visit is tinged with some sadness.  Some of my father’s friends are coming together to commemorate the five-year anniversary of his passing.  I can’t believe it’s been that long.” A dark cloud passed over his eyes.

“Ragazzo dolce,” Mother murmured to Ben, swooping in.  Sweet boy.  She took his face in her hands, pinched his cheeks, and kissed multiple times until he giggled with embarrassment. Sophia and Maria laughed at Ben’s predicament.

“You know, I’ve never been to Canada,” Maria then said.  “Well, Tony and I went to Toronto one weekend while we were still dating, but that hardly counts. It’s just barely over the border, and besides, it didn’t feel any different.”

“Toronto is no different from any large American city, Maria.  In fact, it often doubles as Detroit, Chicago, New York, and similar places in movies and television shows. No, you really have to go to the far north to understand what Canada really means; the mountains, the pure glacial streams, the azure sky…”

Maria smiled.  “That sounds so nice.”

“Maybe you and Tony would like to come with us sometime, or you, Mother.”

“Really?” Maria said.  Her eyes went distant, imagining herself there.

“Hey, Nature Boy,” Ray called from the kitchen doorway, “Ready? Tone’s gettin’ the car out of the garage.”

“So soon? You’ve only just gotten here.  Sit down, Raimundo.  Have some breakfast,” Mother said.

“We gotta go, Ma. Don’t want to be late.”

Mother made a clicking sound with her tongue, disappointed. 

“Look, Ma.  Everything going to be okay here?  We won’t have phone service up there.  Need any money or anything?”  He pulled out his wallet.

“Put your money away, Raimundo! We’ll be fine.”

  Ray kissed his mother and sister.  “So long fur face!” he called to Diefenbaker.  Dief whimpered.  “Don’t worry,” Ray said.  Dief had come to him, and Ray reached down to playfully scratch behind his ears.  “We’ll bring you back some fresh pemmican.” 

Dief wuffed at that.  Ben bent down to address the wolf.  “Be on your best behavior for Mother and the kids,” he warned.  “Mind your manners, and don’t make a pig of yourself.”

Dief chortled and wuffed twice.

“Dief! Language!” He said sternly. 

“Benny, we gotta go,” Ray warned.

“Yes, Ray.  Good bye, Mother, Maria.  We’ll see you two weeks from today.”

“Viaggio buono!” Mother called after the departing men.

VVVVVV

Buck Frobisher met them at the airport in the thick of night.  Really wasn’t much of airport.  It was more of a landing strip, Ben thought, especially when compared to the behemoth O’Hare.  In any case, Buck was waiting on the wet tarmac for them, standing just under the building’s eaves.  Despite that it was the height of summer, it was cold.  It was rainy, and blustery.  The ceiling of clouds was low to the ground; Ben had been surprised at how close to the ground they were when the finally broke through the dense cloud cover. 

Buck had a smile on his face, as Ben and Ray approached.  Ben smiled too.  Seeing Buck assured him he was home.   He was reminded of the summers he was dispatched to his father, seeing him for the first time in months.  Somehow, visiting his father made him relieved, yet ill-at-ease at the same time.  It was nice to get away from the regimented life of Grammy and Paw Paw every once in a while, but perversely, Benton felt even more of a need to be a ‘good boy’ when he was his father.  He hardly ever felt at ease when he was a child. It wasn’t fair.  Wasn’t right at all. Ben shrugged the feeling off. So long ago.  He was no longer a child; time to let the bitterness go.

“Men,” Buck said, coolly casual.  His collar was turned up against the driving mist. He gripped both their hands in turn.

“Hey, Buck, what’s up? Ray said.

“Buck, thank you for coming.”

“No trouble at all.”

“I’ll see you right out front,” he said. Buck retrieved his SUV, and patiently waited curbside for them in the Bronco while Ben and Ray collected their bags and supplies.  He emerged to drop the tail gate, and helped them load up. Ben climbed into the front with Buck.

“So, how’s everything, Ben? Life in big America treating you well?”

“Extremely well.  Ray and I now live together,” he admitted. “Inspector Thatcher has relocated to Ottawa, and I’ve taken over her duties at the Consulate. You?”

Buck had steered them out of the airport complex, and they now turned onto the main road to Yellowknife.  “Never better,” Buck said.  “And I’ll have you know you are witnessing my last hurrah.  This winter will be my last run.  I’ve decided to retire.”

“Oh dear!  When?”

“July first.  My forty-year anniversary.”

“Woah!” Ray stated tactlessly, “That’s longer than I’ve been on the planet!”

Buck scoffed.  “Thanks,” he said.

“Sorry,” Ray said.

“What made you decide to retire?”

“A lot of things, Ben.  My leg’s been bothering me a lot lately.  I’m going to have surgery after I retire to have some of the scar tissue removed; my leg’s so tight now I can barely flex it.  And I’m tired of this nomadic lifestyle.  I just want to stay in one place for a full year…get to know what that feels like.  And I wanna spend some time with my daughter before it’s too late. And all my friends have already retired, years ago in fact.  I guess I just feel goddamned old, is what it boils down to.”

“You’ve many good years ahead of you, Buck,” Ben said. 

“The clock is ticking, Ben.”

The men fell silent as a hard rain suddenly resumed.  It sounded loudly on the roof of the SUV.  Buck turned on his wipers to the highest speed, and they went Twap! Twap! Twap!

against the windshield.  The air inside the vehicle was moist and warm, and Buck turned on his defrost to clear the windows.  Ben felt soothed by the ambient warmth and noise.

Buck cleared his throat.  “So tomorrow, at 14:00… we thought we’d have the service.  At the Presbyterian Church.  I know you wanted something small… but fact is- the word’s kinda gotten around, and a lot of people who knew your dad wanted to come.  The funeral happened so quickly, Bob was…gone before a lot of people in distant parts even knew what had happened to him.  A lot of people regretted missing the funeral, so… this is their chance.”

“You could hardly turn them away.  They’re welcome,” Benny replied softly. “I thank you for arranging this service. I know Dad would have appreciated it.” 

A sense of dread crept into his chest.  Five years ago, he had been too cold with anger to feel grief, to feel anything.  Now his anger was gone, and he was left only with his grief.  He wasn’t sure if he was ready to face it.  He knew he wasn’t ready to face it.

“A few of us talked about going over to Arran’s Place after, for a bit of ale, maybe a plate of haggis and chips, so we can kick back our heels, and talk about old times.  We’d love for you and Ray to come.”

“Do they have pizza there?” Ray inquired.

“I’m sure they do,” Buck responded.

“Then count me in,” Ray replied.

“Thank you,” Ben said, not sure what he was thanking Buck for.  “Thank you.”  A knot in his throat kept him from saying further.

“Understood,” Buck said.

The rest of the drive to the cabin passed in silence, each man reveling in his own private thoughts in the soothing darkness.  The rain had lessened, gentling, on the metal roof, but remained with them on the entire drive to the cabin.

VVVVVV

The wail of bagpipes ushered in the small procession of Fraser family members—Ben’s cousins— plus one Vecchio, and a Frobisher.  Ben recognized the tune instantly, Hornpipe; he’d heard it often enough in his life. 

Ben had opted for the Scottish Kilt rather than his RCMP dress reds.  Although there were certainly plenty of red serge present among the gatherers for this occasion, it was not an official RCMP function. Ben was here to represent his father, Bob Fraser, not the force.  His father was proud of his Scottish heritage.  Ben had selected the same tartan that his father had formerly worn, the Clan Fraser Red Modern, a red and green plaid interwoven with blue. 

Ben registered some surprise at the turn out for this event.  Buck had downplayed- or underestimated- the size of the attendees a great deal.  Ben surmised that there were two hundred people present, scattered among the many pews of the large church.

Ben, Ray, and Buck took their places in the front pew, and bowed their heads as the pastor delivered the benediction.  Pastor McPhee was a man a few years older than his father would be now.  He had officiated over his dad’s funeral.   “The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Ghost be with you all. Amen,” he intoned. It sent a shiver down Ben’s back.  Ray’s cool hand surreptitiously covered Ben’s, tightened.  For that gesture alone, Ben felt that he would be forever grateful to Ray Vecchio. It was good, having Ray by his side like this.

Pastor McPhee spoke:  “I invite you to join in a litany of memory for Robert Fraser and for others whom you hold dear in your memory. Please respond to each line that I read with the words, 'We remember you.'”

“In the rising of the sun and in its going down,” he said.

“We remember you,” the congregation intoned.

“In the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter.”

“We remember you.”

“In the opening of buds and in the rebirth of spring.”

“We remember you.”

“In the blueness of the sky and in the warmth of summer.”

“We remember you.”

”In the rustling of leaves and in the beauty of autumn.”

“We remember you.”

“In the beginning of the year and when it ends.”

“We remember you.”

“When we are weary and in need of strength.”

“We remember you.”

“When we are lost and sick at heart.

“We remember you.”

“When we have joys we yearn to share.”

“We remember you.”

“Yes, we remember you. So long as we live, Robert too shall live, for he is a part of all who have known him."

Pastor McPhee guided them through the rest of the services, his graceful method of delivery smoothed by years of practice, by years of seeing grief, of consoling.

And in turn, many people whose lives were touched by Bob Fraser went to the podium, and shared a memory of him.   Some people Ben knew, many he didn’t.  But it was good.  It was all fine.  It only made Ben feel that his father was an iceberg; so much of him was hidden. 

Finally, Buck spoke, sharing many memories of his and Dad’s life together roaming the mountains of the Continental Divide, years and years and years together, building trust, respect, friendship, and finally, love. 

Then, at last it was Ben’s turn.  He rose, smoothed his thick kilt with his sweaty palms, and addressed the assembled mass.  He spoke about how his father had shaped his life so  irrevocably; he talked about  the values, the high standards his father expected him to live up to without fail, how it was difficult, sometimes to rise to the challenge. 

Ben met Ray’s eyes as he spoke of this.  Ray’s eyes were brimming with love as they made their soul-deep instant connection, locking eyes.  To conclude the service, Ben led them in a rendition of Robert Burns’ ballad, Auld Lang Syne ( Old Long Ago).  Bob Fraser admired the song and the poet.  Ben had spent many a Burns Supper singing this song along side his father.

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup of kindness yet,
For auld lang syne!

Ben faltered. Buck was by his side in an instant, and sang, 

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?

The two men sang together.

And surely ye'll be  your pint-stowp,
And surely I'll be mine,
And we'll tak a cup o kindness yet,
For auld lang syne!

And one by one, members of the congregation stood and joined in. Buck had thoughtfully had the lyrics, updated with modern English, dispersed at every pew.

We two have run about the hills,
And picked the flowers fine,
But we've wander'd many a weary foot,
Since auld lang syne.

We two have paddled in the stream
from morning sun till dine,
But seas between us broad have  roar'd
Since auld lang syne.

And there's a hand my trusty friend,
And give us a hand o’ thine,
And we'll take a right good-will draft,
For auld lang syne.

The kirk was silent, the remembrance done.  Ben felt free.  The bagpipes mournfully wailed “Amazing Grace” leading the congregation out into the open air again.  Blue sky. Heaven.

VVVVVV

Ben was giddy from pints of Scotch ale.  At the pub, they had all certainly had more than a “good-will draft” or two in Bob Fraser’s name.  People poured in one after another, or in pairs, or sometimes trios.  The ale kept flowing until dark. 

Thankfully, Ben and Buck had Ray to serve as the designated driver.  Ben rarely drank, so this was hitting him hard.  He supposed he had been acting out a little.  But he was entitled to act out every once in a while.  Like Ray always told him, he was human, ‘live a little, Benny.’

They were back at home.  Buck was inside, sleeping off what only amounted to a mellow buzz, but Ray and Ben were still up, outside in the cold summer air.  Ray, still wide awake, had wanted to get a fire going in the fire pit in the backyard, and Ben was there keeping him company.  That sat on low stones in front of the glowing fire, an occasional ember sparking. 

“And Benny?” Ray was saying, “Haggis is off my list.  That was disgusting!  I can’t believe you made me eat that.”

“Well, it is an acquired taste, Ray.”  He giggled.

Ray appraised him, slowly passing his gaze from top to bottom.  “You’re really drunk, Benny,” Ray judged, taking in the glassy, unfocussed eyes.

It was the funniest thing Ray had ever said.  Ben burst into peals of laughter.

Ray stared at him, bemused, his face looking ghostly and orange above the fire.  A crooked smile crossed Ray’s face. His gave his lover the ‘elevator eyes’.  Ben had removed his jacket, tie, and various accoutrements, but still retained the wearing of his tartan.  He was in undershirt and bare feet.  The tartan had ridden high up his thighs. Ray wondered if Ben wore underwear.    “Come’ere,” Ray said.

“Ray Vecchio! Are you trying to take advantage of me? In my condition?”

“Uh huh,” he said.  He simultaneously crawled toward and pulled Ben to him.  He kissed the mouth and then gently pushed Ben on his back and was met with little resistance. 

“Ray,” he whispered, “Buck’s right inside.”

“Then, Benny.  Don’t make any noise,” Ray whispered in kind, hand slithering up the kilt.  His hand met only warm skin and a thick thatch of hair.  He lifted the plaid material out of the way, and crawled between Ben’s thighs. 

“Shhhh,” Ray said, and took Ben into his mouth.

“Mmm,” Ben replied.

Ray paused.  “Shhh,” he said again. He lowered his head, resuming what he was doing.

“Ah,” Ben breathed.  “Ah. Ah. Ah.”

VVVVVV

Ben awoke to howling. Howling. Howling.  It sounded like Diefenbaker, but then again, it didn’t.  Ben sat up, bewildered.  The sound had stopped as soon as he opened his eyes.  He sat up in bed, feeling disoriented, and looked around in the dark, spinning room.  He was naked in the cool room, having thrown the thin sheet from his body sometime during the night, but he was sweaty.  Ray, wrapped in the sheet, slept peacefully next to him.  They were in Yellowknife, not Chicago. Dief wasn’t here.  He was at home with Mother and the children.  Dief was safe.  Ben realized his heart was racing. His head throbbed. 

Ben got the sudden urge to urinate, and rose quickly.  He dropped to his knees as the room around him spun.  Slowly rising after a moment, he carefully made his way down the spiral staircase, still naked,  to the bathroom below.  Buck was sleeping on the sofa bed, and did not stir when Ben walked past.  Ben made his way to the w.c. and emptied his bladder with great relief.  It took some concentrating just to stand upright.  He was nauseous.  He finished and clambered on all fours back up the ladder to their bedroom.

The clock glowed 03:13.  Ben looked at Ray as he crawled back into bed.  Ray was fine.  Buck was fine.  He was fine, albeit sick.  And Dief was fine, he added.  Right? The howling was a dream.  There was nothing to worry about, he told himself.  Then, why don’t I believe this?  Ben was still awake when the sun rose.

VVVVVV

“Ray!” Ben called.  “Ray!” Ray slept on.  Ben touched his shoulder.  “Ray.” 

Nothing.

Ben shook him.  “Ray?”

Nothing.

“RAY!”

Ray snapped upright out of a dead sleep.  “Whu?!” He said.

“Ray.  I can’t sleep.  I feel horrible.”

“Jesus!” Ray grumbled, before taking a good look at his lover’s bloodshot eyes.  He instantly softened.  “You’re just hung over, Benny.  I’ll get you some Nuprin so you can go back to sleep.”

“Can’t sleep, Ray.”

Ray climbed out of bed, and pulled a pair of sweats on his naked body.  “Benny.  I’m gonna get you some Nuprin and a tall glass of water.  You’ll go back to sleep.” He turned to go.

“Ray!”

“What?!”

“I-

“Yeah, Benny?”

“I just.”

“Christ, Benny, what?!” 

“Nothing.”

Ray disappeared downstairs.  Ben listened to Ray shuffle around the cabin for a moment before returning up the stairs.  He silently handed Ben two yellow pills and a plastic tumbler of tap water.  Ben swallowed the pills with a few gulps of water.  The water wasn’t settling right. 

“Drink the whole thing, Benny. You’ll feel better quicker if you get re-hydrated.”

Ben glugged the rest of the water down, hoping the unpleasant rumbling in his stomach would quickly subside.

Ray had climbed back into bed.  Ben lay down too, on his side facing Ray, who was on his back.  Ben moved to his back.

And then to his other side, facing away from Ray.

Then to his side again.

And then to his stomach.

After five minutes, Ben turned to his back again.

And then back to facing Ray.

He turned away from Ray.

And then to his stomach.

“Benny,” Ray warned.  He sat up.

“Ray, can we go into town?”

“For breakfast later, you mean?”

“No, now. Right now.”

“What for, Benny?”

“I want to call home to check on Dief.”

“What for?”

“I just want to.”

“Can’t we do that tonight or better yet, in a couple of days?  Come on, we just left Dief.”

“I want to call now.”

“Benny?  What’s going on?”

“Can we go, please, Ray?” His voice had risen in desperation. 

Ray stared at Ben.  He was pale, and had dark circles under his eyes. Ray’s personal alarm sounded in his belly.  He tried to squelch it. He nodded.  “Get dressed,” he said to Ben. “I’ll ask Buck to borrow his car.”

VVVVVV

Ray dialed his number collect from the pay phone of the quickie mart, Ben standing nervously by.  They were quickly connected. “You’re up early,” Ray said with no preamble.  “Hey, listen, Ma…” Ray said.  “This may sound kind of strange, but how’s Dief?”  Ray’s face with dead as Ben listened to the distant sound of her voice.  Ray locked eyes with Ben, and his stomach clenched, churning. 

Ben knew what was coming.  God help him.  He knew what was coming. 

Ray handed him the phone.

“Mother?” he said fearfully.

“I’m sorry, Benito,” the sad distant voice said, “He died in the night.  We don’t know what happened.  Tony took the body to the vet an hour ago.  He was fine yesterday.  Running and playing with the—

Ben handed the phone back to Ray, stepped into the weeds behind him, bent abruptly, and violently vomited.

VVVVV

Ben lay in bed in the darkened room with an iced washcloth over his eyes.  Ray had driven them home and put him right to bed.  Buck had left shortly after their return, headed back out for patrol, and so the two of them were alone.  Ben had hardly spoken a word in the past two hours.  He had no desire to speak, ever, ever again.

Ray had found out what little detail he could from Mother while he had had her on the phone, instructing her to ask the vet for an autopsy. Ma blamed herself, Ray said.  No.  No, Benny had said.  She did nothing wrong.   Ray had already called Air Canada and booked them on the next flight out, which wasn’t until tomorrow morning. 

Ben stayed inside all day, listening to sound of the rain on the roof.  Ray had dropped to his knees in front of the fireplace, and offered up a prayer to St. Francis. 

Beyond that, there was nothing to be done.

VVVVVV

Ben awoke to howling. Howling. Howling.  It sounded like Diefenbaker, but then again, it didn’t.  Ben sat up, bewildered.  The sound had stopped as soon as he opened his eyes.  Had he been dreaming, or had he not?

He turned his head toward the bedside table. The clock glowed 03:13. 

Ben was still awake when the sun rose, numb, staring into nothingness.