I used to find it charming; now it seems more of a leer. He thinks he’s going to convince me to get back together with him. He orders a coffee and a scone and takes a seat on one of the couches. He watches me while I work, which I find highly unsettling. I don’t feel like doing this with him today. But I suppose now’s as good a time as any to let him know this is really over.
At five, I clock out. Benji’s right there, opening doors for me, being all sweet. He’s good at faking nice, as well as guilt-tripping and manipulating. It’s a game he likes to play. I think I’d gotten so used to it after seven years, it seemed normal. But seeing Sunny and Miller together, and even Violet and Alex, I’m getting a much better sense of how dysfunctional my relationship with Benji truly was.
He puts his hand on my lower back, guiding me out of the shop. “You teach at six, right?”
I walk a little faster to get away from his hand. “Yeah.” His car is parked in the lot.
Here’s an interesting fact about Benji: he dresses like he’s homeless, but his family is fairly well off. He drives a brand new Jetta. He didn’t pay for it, though. His parents did, just like they pay for everything else.
He hits the button, unlocking it. I grab the handle before he can and slide into the passenger seat. He closes the door for me, his smile wavering a little as he walks around the car. He’s back to his grinning, fake-pleasant self by the time he’s in the driver’s seat.
“How’ve you been?” he asks, buckling himself in.
“Fine. Good. How about you?”
“Oh, you know. Keeping busy.” That’s Benji code for boinking other girls, or trying to make me think he has. I don’t care if it’s true.
“That’s good.”
He glances at me, lips pursed under his scraggly mustache. He stretches his arm out over the back of my seat as he reverses out of the spot. He nearly hits a customer and has the audacity to flip her off as he pulls out onto the street. I slouch in my seat so she can’t see me. It’s a ten-minute drive to the campus rink. I’m hoping we can manage not to have a screaming match.
“You know, you can always call me if you need a ride.” His fingers graze the back of my neck.
I lurch forward. “Thanks. That’s probably not a good idea, though.”
“Come on, Lils. How long are you planning to stay mad at me this time? I know I’m not perfect, but neither are you. We had a fight. It happens. It’s over now. I know you were mad at me when we were camping, and that’s why you kissed that hockey douche. I’ll forgive you for that.”
This right here is what I’m talking about. This is the kind of crap Benji pulls, putting it all on me. It wasn’t always this way. He was a great boyfriend for the first four years—doting, kind, sweet. Sometimes a little too much of all of those things. We were solid until senior year; then there were a couple of bumps and short breakups. Nothing terrible.
Things got rocky after high school. I went to university on a full scholarship instead of pursuing my dream. He went to college to get a diploma in loafing. It was eye-opening to be in classes with other guys who expressed an interest in me. Benji didn’t like it; he has insecurity issues. I’ve realized he used to project them on me by constantly telling me I wasn’t good enough. The jabs were subtle at first, but by the end he’d blatantly put me down.
I don’t know why I stayed for so long. Maybe I was too scared to have no one other than Sunny, since most of our friends left Guelph after high school. Maybe I was scared I’d end up like my mom, with a revolving door of loser boyfriends. Regardless, it’s a cycle that needs to stay broken, for good this time.
“I’m not asking to be forgiven for kissing Randy.”
“Fine. Then I won’t ask to be forgiven for screwing around on you, either.”
“Screwing around on me? Benji, we’re not together. You can screw anyone you damn well please. It’s none of my business.”
He’s silent for the rest of the ride—stewing, I guess. I hold my knapsack on my lap, wishing I’d gone with my gut and taken the bus, even if it meant rushing to get to the rink.
Benji pulls up to the front of the arena.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“So that’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say?” As his anger expands, so does his volume.
“I don’t know what else you want me to say. We haven’t spoken in two months apart from the time you came to the coffee shop with that girl you apparently work with. We’ve said all the things we need to say to each other over the years. We should be good at this point, don’t you think?”
“Why can’t you admit you made a mistake with the meathead? Why are you so intent on becoming your mom?”
And just like that, he makes me feel two inches tall. I take a deep breath, steeling myself against the insults. “Don’t bring my mom into this.”
“Why? Because you don’t like the truth?”
I don’t engage; I don’t have enough time to battle it out. And I don’t want to. “Do you have my stuff with you?”
“Stuff?”
“My things? From your house?”
“I didn’t think you were gonna be playing this game with me, Lily. I thought we were gonna work things out.”
“Never mind. I gotta go.”
I reach for the door handle, and Benji grabs my wrist.
“Let go of me.”