“I had to change the locks on the front door. This is your set.”
“But I never come in the front door.”
“Well, we have a front door, so just take the keys.”
Benny puts out her hand. “What happened? Burglary?”
Byron shakes his head. “Earthquake. Shifted the doorframe.”
“Oh, yeah, now I remember.”
“You do?” Byron says, the sarcasm making his upper lip curl. “What do you mean, you remember, Benny? You weren’t even here. And, by the way, you didn’t bother to call, did you, to see if we were all right?”
“I didn’t have to. Ma let me know.”
“Ma? You talked to Ma?”
“No, not really. Ma would leave messages once in a while.”
“You were in contact with Ma? All this time? I thought you weren’t talking to each other.”
“I told you, once in a while she’d leave a message. Birthdays, holidays, you know. Then the earthquake.”
“But you never came to see her.”
Benny shakes her head. “She never told me to come and see her. She never even asked me to call her back. I did call the house a couple of times, but she didn’t answer. I wrote her a letter, not long ago, and she left me a short message. She didn’t say she was sick.” Benny opens her mouth to say something else, then stops, shakes her head.
“She was on some heavy-duty meds the last few months. Of course she wanted to see you. She was just very hurt, you know?”
“Ma? She was hurt? And what about me? I was the one who was rejected by my own parents.”
“They did not reject you, Benny. They were upset because you walked out on them.”
“They were not upset because I walked out on them. They were already upset and we both know why.”
“And you made it worse. You walked out on them in the middle of a holiday, and you never even called to apologize. You didn’t give them a chance. And I was pretty upset, too, Benny. No, wait, correct that. I was pissed off at you. I’m still pissed off at you. And what about the funeral, Benny? When I called you that time, you said you would come.”
“I did come to the funeral, Byron. I came all the way to California, I went to the cemetery, it’s just that…”
“What are you saying? You were here? You know, I thought I saw you, but then I said to myself, No, Byron, you’re imagining things. But I wasn’t. You mean to tell me, you came all the way out here and then you had the nerve to just leave us on our own?”
“You weren’t exactly on your own, Byron. There were a lot of people there.”
“And that’s your excuse? That with all those people around, you didn’t need to be there?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying, it’s just that I couldn’t…”
“Couldn’t what, Benny? Couldn’t what? Couldn’t get out of the damn car for your own father’s funeral? Couldn’t get out of the car for Ma and me? And then all I get is a text message saying I’m sorry?”
“It’s not that simple, Byron.”
“No, it’s not that complicated.”
Byron turns and walks out of the room, but not before seeing what Benny is holding. It’s their mother’s old plastic measuring cup. He turns back and pulls the cup away from her.
“No, Byron!” Benny cries as she follows him down the hallway. “Byron!” Now she’s pulling at his sweater with one hand, trying to grab the cup with the other.
“Don’t do that,” Byron says, batting Benny away from his sweater. “That’s cashmere.”
“That’s cashmere?” Benny says. “That’s cashmere? Are you kidding me, Byron?”
“This is ridiculous,” Byron says, shoving the cup back into Benny’s hand. “There. Does that make you feel better? Does it make you feel like a good little daughter, keeping that cup for the memories? Where the fuck were you all these years, Benny?”
“You don’t really want to know, do you, Byron? You don’t really want to hear anything from me. You just want to remind me that you’re Byron Bennett, the perfect son, admired and accepted by everyone. Well, you know something? You’re not so perfect. And no one gets to have any feelings until you decide they have feelings.”
Byron is stunned. Is that what she thinks? Is that what Benny really thinks of him?
“Why didn’t you call me sooner, huh, Byron? If Ma was so sick?”