This Story Might Save Your Life(16)

“Benny, this is Xander. Xander, Benny.”

They exchanged greetings, and Xander handed him the bag. “Wasn’t sure what your drink was, so…”

Inside was a liter of scotch, another of gin, and a bottle of Dom Pérignon. Benny’s eyebrows shot up.

Xander scratched his head, as if embarrassed by his own generosity. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, man,” Benny said. “Wow. That’s nice of you.”

“Yeah, well. Heard you’ve had a rough couple of months, so…”

I could tell Benny didn’t want to talk about it, and I was about to change the subject when Xander said in his dulcet accent, “Joy tells me you’re an audio engineer? What does that entail?”

Xander was good at reading people, and even better at asking questions. I let myself relax as Benny explained that he got his start in music recording studios but mostly freelanced now, offering sound edits for media production services.

“You ever work on podcasts?”

“No,” Benny said, “but I’d be interested.”

I’d never listened to a podcast, not yet. I didn’t hop on that trend until Serial came out a few years later. One could say I’m not an early adopter of technology in any form, hence the ancient boom box that was at that moment blasting Weezer from the corner. Someone must have turned it up because I could barely hear Xander’s response.

“Hold on,” I shouted, excusing myself to take over volume control. Our dodgeball friends then wrangled me into a heated argument on Weezer’s OK Human versus Radiohead’s OK Computer, and by the time I returned, Benny and Xander were engaged in what appeared to be a Very Serious conversation.

“What did I miss?” I said, triangulating them. “What are we talking about?”

“Koalas,” Benny responded without missing a beat. “Did you know they can sleep up to twenty hours a day?”

“Of course I do. I was a koala in a former life. Did you know goats can’t look up or down without moving their heads?”

“Wow. That is completely related and equally interesting.”

I nodded. “But seriously, what were you talking about?”

“You,” Benny said.

I elbowed him, but this time he wasn’t joking. “Only good things, right?”

“Only good things.” Xander kissed the side of my head, sending a rush of warmth through my limbs. “Now. Are you going to introduce me to the rest of your friends?”

The party was a success. Everyone celebrated my best friend, and we all ate cupcakes, and laughed, and drank too much. When I started to fade Benny shooed everyone out, shouting, “Bedtime! You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!” A few minutes later, he and Xander and I were the only three left standing.

“Joy and I will clean up,” Xander said. “You go, relax. It’s your birthday.”

“Nah, man, it’s cool.” Benny was already grabbing empty bottles. “We’ve got a whole system, right, Joy?”

“We do.” I removed the bottles from his hands. “And it usually involves me sitting on the couch and watching you do all the work. Xander is right. Go home, we’ve got this.”

Benny glanced back and forth between us. “If you’re sure.”

“Hundred percent.” I gave him a big hug to ease my rising guilt. “Happy birthday, Benny.”

“Okay.” He backed toward the door. “Thanks.”

Xander shook his hand, I waved goodbye, and then there were two.

“I think that went well,” I said.

“Yeah?” Xander searched my face.

I nodded and sat on the arm of my vintage green side chair. “Everyone liked you.”

“And I liked them.” Xander consolidated the leftover chips. Stacking the empty bowls, he said, “I may have to work on Benny, though.”

“What makes you say that?”

“A vibe.” He disappeared into the kitchen. Plates clinked. Silverware tinkled. Cabinets and drawers thudded closed.

When he returned, I said, “What was it you two were talking about earlier?”

“Nothing much. Just your basic getting-to-know-you stuff.”

“Xander.”

He wrapped his arms around my waist, drew me close, and nuzzled my neck. “He told me to be good to you.”

This sounded very Benny. I smiled. “And what did you say?”

He pulled back and looked me in the eyes. “I said I couldn’t imagine being anything but.”

I pressed my lips to his, and he ran his hands up and down my back, into my hair. Ignoring the mess, I led him to my bed.





Benny Abbott


Day One

The dogs breathe down our necks as Mallory negotiates the windy roads to my house. She parks in my driveway, and we each take a leash. Inside, I flip on my can lights and slowly lower the swag bag to the floor. The place is immaculate—every surface gleaming, the air a bright punch of lemon and vinegar. My house cleaner must have let herself out hours ago. When I left this morning, I told her I’d be back before she was done. I can barely comprehend that it’s the same day.

Richie, excited for a playdate in his own domain, springs across the furniture like the yellow bouncing ball in a sing-along video. Potsie, however, remains at my feet, watching me with probing eyes.