The God Who Stood Alone

Benjamin Black lay in his bed; comfortable, but restless. His eyes roamed across the thick oak board above his head, tracing every sharp edge and ridge in the knotted wood. Three beams crossed the peaked, triangular-shaped ceiling, attaching one side to the other. He could just reach the wooden planks if he stood and reached his arms up. There were two windows, the one on the right a small circle, but the one on the left taking up almost all of the triangular wall. It gave him a beautiful view of the forest top and, further out, the city. He could see the gleaming stories of the Cancer Institute in the center of it, a needlepoint rising high into the sky and glittering like polished ice. The sun hung just over the bright green treetops, turning them into a canopy of spun gold and burnt orange. It warmed the sparsely-decorated wooden room and baked it like a sauna. Benjamin didn't mind, stripping out of his shirt. He left his jeans, underwear and socks on, however, in case one of his hosts came to check on him. From the front of the house, he would never have known this existed. The front of the building was completely modern, built of gleaming steel and tinted glass, but the inside was far more comfortable. Everything was wooden; the furniture, the fireplaces – there were three! - the tables, the appliances, the gilding, or made of spun wool. His own bed took up most of the center of the room; wide, with silk blankets and pillows. The rest of the space was dominated by a stout wooden dresser, a full-body mirror, and a trunk facing the foot of the bed. The large wooden box was clasped in gold, tucked away under the tilt of the roof. An electrical fan sat in the far corner, right beside the staircase leading down into the main house, and a dehumidifier was propped up against the wall beside it, under the smaller window.
Breathing out into the warm air of the room, Benjamin stood and stretched. The floorboard groaned in protest beneath the soles of his feet. Part of the floor, at the foot of the bed, was covered by a round white carpet, about three strides in length. Looking around once again, Benjamin blinked once. His gaze was something which resembled disbelief. He had been reluctant, at first, to go home with Amadeus and Calypso – not, he thought, because he didn't trust them, but because he had jut hit them with his car and he felt somewhat guilty of that fact. He hardly found it proper that he would impose on their hospitality. After all, it had been nice enough of them to bring him to the hospital and not leave him to bleed out on the side of the road. Amadeus had assured him, again, that his car was in the own repair shop – a dingy, small-town place called 'Busters Autorepair'. He planned to leave as soon as he gotten his car back and paid Amadeus for the costs. It really wasn't proper, he thought to himself.
But then again, if there was one thing he had learned about Amadeus since he had driven them home from the Institute – he didn't care about proper. Amadeus was the definition of a lone wolf. There was a fire of rebellion burning in that young man's stomach that the coldest of people couldn't put out, and a steel to his spine that refused to bend. His sister, too. She was more welcoming than he was, more soft-spoken, but just as strong, just as determined, and just as resilient. The crash didn't seem to have phased her. There was something about that girl that itched at Benjamin. He didn't know what it was; her lack of any kind of bitterness, her completely enveloping calm, or what had happened in the hospital room. That was the only part of the day that refused to come back to him, sitting like a blank spot in his memory – a void, massive and unfillable by logic or guesses.
Turning, Benjamin shoots a quick glance out the window and then starts for the stairs. He reaches for the banister, grabbing a grey t-shirt hanging over the edge, and pulls it over his head of shaggy brown hair as he descends the stairs two at a time. At the bottom of the stairs, he pauses to open another, larger wooden door and steps out into a bedroom. The walls are beige, the carpet grey, the bed perfectly made. It looks like it hasn't been used for months – indeed it hasn't. A thin coat of dust lies across everything; the wooden desk tucked away in one corner, the heavy oak wardrobe, the windowsill – displaced by the gently blowing window curtains, stirred up so that it hangs in the air and glitters in the dying sunlight – on the small stand-mirror and door handles. Crossing the carpet, Benjamin grabs the edge of the door frame with one hand and takes another flight of stairs downward. Coming out of the bottom, he finds himself in the house entrance way.
The front of the room is constructed completely of smooth, grey-tinted glass, bordered at the edges by steel girders. The door is thick—set in the glass, wooden. The floor underfoot is hardwood, polished until it shines. There is a small area in the far corner dominated by two large leather sofas, a coffee table, and a wall-hung flat screen TV. The back of the room, however, is taken up by a bar. It is here that Benjamin finds his hosts. As soon as he sees them, he turns around the banister and heads their direction. As he approaches, Calypso's head lifts of the bar and gives him a friendly smile. The kind of smile that lights up her face and made the pit of Benjamin's stomach buzz with heat. Amadeus had his back turned, hands moving deftly as he mixed something behind the bar. The sound of ice clinking against glass fills the air. The room smells like cleaning products and alcohol, the second so strong it almost blankets the first. It is a stark scent, pleasantly raw – like wind in the winter. Crisp, but so strong it almost burned his nostrils when he inhaled deeply.
“Good evening, Calypso.” Benjamin said, dipping his head politely as he dragged out a bar stool and seated himself. At the sound of his voice, Amadeus turned over one shoulder and gave him a wry, tight-lipped smile.
“Evening, Amadeus.”
“Welcome back.” Amadeus turned, reaching under the counter behind him and pulling out a straw. Sticking the plastic tube into the cup, he placed it on the counter in front of Calypso. To Benjamin's surprise, he smelled some kind of alcohol in the drink; strong and vulgar. He cast a shocked glance at Calypso. She caught him out of the corner of her eyes, and one edge of her prim pink lips curled in an innocent smile as she raised the straw to her smiling lips and took a long drink.
“Rum and Coke.” Amadeus seemed to read his thoughts. “She only drinks on weekends.”
The young girl nodded, but the blush that crept into her porcelain cheeks told him that it was a lie. Whether Amadeus knew so or not was a mute point.
“You want anything?” Amadeus asks. “We've got more alcohol here than most bars, so...”
“Just water?” Benjamin said, turning the statement into a request. It came out as more of a question, much to his chagrin.
“Damn,” Calypso murmured beside him, rolling her eyes slightly, “didn't know we adopted a bitch.”
“You did not adopt me.” Benjamin poked back, raising one finger in the air as if to check off her arguments. “I am not a bitch. You are far too young to drink anyways, so what the hell are you saying?”
“Bitch.” Calypso grinned as Amadeus pushed a glass of water across the counter.
Benjamin shot a look at Calypso, and then raised the glass to his lips. The water felt cold against his parched lips and tongue, like swallowing ice. He would have gasped, but he contented himself with placing the water glass back down on the bar surface and sighing deeply. The sound drew Amadeus' attention, and the boy cast a shadow of a smile back over one shoulder as he rummaged through the fridge. Finally, he appeared with a can of Coke. Breaking the tab, the boy poured it into a tall glass and then pulled another bottle off the shelf above. The glass was the color of honey – a gold so dark it looked orange in the fluorescent bar lights – with a black label wrapped around the middle and a golden cap. The liquid hissed softly as he poured it into the Coke, and he watched carefully as the liquid rose up the sides of the glass, the foam breaking across the top and hanging there.
“Nothing better than rum and Coke.” the young man sighed, leaning his elbows back against the linoleum counter top and watching Benjamin through his steady blue eyes. Suddenly, they swung toward Calypso. Benjamin watched a strange change go through them; the fierce echo of a roar fading from their brilliant blue depths, replaced by something which reminded him of the wind.
“So, Cal,” his voice was a question, “excited about school tomorrow?”
“Yep!” she chirped, giving him a full-face smile and lowering her own glass to the bar counter.
“It'll be good to be back.” Amadeus exhaled the words the way a dragon might exhale a plume of smoke, leaning his arms back against the counter and swirling his drink mindlessly with one hand. “One final go around ...” he trailed off, seemingly lost in thought. His normally piercing gray-blue eyes traced the pattern of the staccato ceiling. Then they flashed downward, catching Benjamin's in the movement. “What about you, Benjamin? How old are you anyways?”
“Just turned eighteen.” Benjamin answered, crossing his arms against the cool surface below them. “I'm starting the year at Centennial. It was the only school I could find around here.”
“That's where we go!” Calypso piped up.
“I didn't figure you went to school.” Amadeus said honestly, watching Benjamin closely. “No offense meant.”
“None taken.” Benjamin waved away any sting the statement might have had by raising one hand slightly off the counter and dusting it through the air. “I generally hop every semester or so. First year I was still at home, and every year after that I've bee traveling. Hop from one school to the next. Maybe I'll graduate in Texas... Who knows? This semester, though, I'm here to stay.”
“That's so cool.” Calypso whispered, shaking her head slightly from side to side. “How many schools have you been to?”
Amadeus nodded in agreement with his sisters sentiment. The room was growing darker as the light which filtered through the tall, tinted-glass windows continued to die into the night. Amadeus pushed himself off the counter, reaching out with one hand and flicking a switch beside the fridge. Immediately, light spread across the counter and blew outward to envelope the room. The light was stark white, but somehow warmer than those in a doctors office or dentists room. They cast shadows around the edges of things, giving the room a sense of depth it didn't otherwise have. They reflected off of the wood-trimmed, stainless steel appliances, causing the fridge and stove to glow. With the lights came a low buzzing sound, like a million flies buzzing in the next room over. Barely on the edge of hearing, but filling the otherwise emptiness in the room.
“Five or six.” Benjamin shrugged. “In grade eleven I was at this place called Poscal High – terrible school. Had to cut and run in the first week because I made friends with the wrong people. Then there was Alberta North. I left right before passing the second half of the same year, but I was able to carry credits down here. So ... here I am.” he spread his hands from his sides, like an actor about to take a bow.
“Poscal ...” Amadeus whispered, as if the name meant something to him, “Poscal ... Cal, isn't that the place George was sent off to?”
“Prick.” the young girl whispered venomously.
“George Beckers?” Benjamin asked, his eyes growing slightly wider as he turned them on Amadeus. The other boy nodded, an amused smile turning up the edges of his lips. Benjamin looked less pleased, scowling darkly at the counter and shaking his dark-haired head. “That prick is the reason I left.”
“Call it even, then.” Amadeus smiled, but it was really more of a sneer. “Because I'm the reason he left.”
“Now that,” Benjamin said, “is a story I want to hear.”
“It's a great story,” Amadeus smiled, pushing himself off the counter again and taking the glass from in front of Calypso. “Cal, it's time for bed. Run upstairs – you can use the guest room tonight. I'll let dad know, if he calls. Go on.”
“But Amadeus-” she pleaded.
“You have school tomorrow.” the young man cut her off with a raised hand, his voice kind but firm. “Go on, get yours stuff ready. I'll come make sure you're alright in a bit.”
For a brief moment, it seemed like the girl might rebel. Then she gave a light sigh and slipped off of the bar stool. Landing lightly on her feet, she stuck out her hand toward Benjamin. He took it in his own, shaking it lightly. Her skin was completely smooth, and she gave a small curtsy before making her way around the counter. Benjamin watched as the two siblings hugged quickly, and Amadeus reached out one hand to ruffle the girl's wavy blonde hair.
“Night, Calypso.”
“See ya soon, Amore.” the girl smiled, and then ducked under the wooden slat between the bar and the wall and disappeared toward the stairs.
The sound of her footsteps climbing the wooden stairs, straining and creaking, sounded through the living room, and then faded to silence. A moment later, there came the sound of a door shutting. The sound seemed to break the silence, and suddenly Amadeus relaxed. An amount of tension seemed to fall from his shoulders; like a rope pulled tight and then suddenly let loose. He grasped the edge of the counter in his palms, wrapping his finger around the lip, and heaved himself upward. He action was lithe and powerful, like a gymnast. He perched on the edge of the counter, legs bent beneath him, toes of his shoes resting on the drawer handles.
“So,” the boy chuckled, “George Beckers...” he paused for a moment, reaching over and taking a sip of his drink. He licked his lips, quickly, and then began. “He was a piece of work, that one. Nobody much liked him except for his momma. Strange, he wasn't bad looking. Guess it's not true that girls always go after the assholes, huh.”
Benjamin let out a low chuckle, nodding his head slightly.
“Well, you know George. Thought he was a smooth talker; thought he could charm the pants of any girl in town. I didn't really care, honestly. I ignored him for the most part. Knew he was spreading some nasty rumors about my family, but fuck Benjamin – everyone spreads rumors about my family. Anyways, caught him getting a bit too feely with a girl after a party one night. She wasn't in a good state, so I kindly told him to fuck off and drove her home. Well, he didn't like that move so much. He started going after my sister and I with that mouth of his. Didn't bother me, but I could tell some of the other girls were getting to my sister about things he said.” The young man blinked once, the gesture almost owlish. “Benjamin, I'll say this only once, because I don't think you're the type. Don't fuck with my sister. I will end you.”
Those words were not said maliciously, for all the razor-sharp truthfulness behind them. They were a threat, certainly; but above all, they were a promise. A warning. The other boy tucked his hands into the pockets of his dress pants, letting his head fall back against the cupboard behind him.
“So, one night I took Cal to a party. Thought it might cheer her up. Set her up with a nice guy, Smith something or other. Knew him through sports circles. Bit of a book-worker, good grades, nice eye for poetry and women. Anyways, I threw them together and went to do my own thing for the night. Few hours later, I hear a bit of a thing start up in the back of the house. Ignored it, ya know. Fights happen at parties – thought it was probably just a couple friends who had a few too many beers and decided to take something outside. Well, it started sounding pretty vicious, so I went to check it out. Turns out, George decided to go after my sister. Don't know what he wanted – I can only guess – but she seemed shaken up pretty badly. Anyway, the kid I had left my sister with had tried his best, but you know George. Kid was built like a semi. Apparently George got a nice hit with a beer bottle to the back of the kids head right off – poor guy, ended up with a couple stitches and a bruised ego. He and Cal still talk, I think...”
“And what about George?” Benjamin asked with interest, leaning across the bar slightly.
“Let me tell you, Benjamin.” the other boy breathed, shaking his head slightly. “I don't get really vengeful often. Angry, somethings, but never like that. The world just ... stopped spinning for a minute, there. One minute I was coming through the screen porch in the back, watching George coming at my sister. She was up against the fence, big fucking wood thing they put up so their neighbors would stop peeking at them. I don't think George knew I was at the party. He always kept a pretty wide birth, despite the shit talking...” Amadeus trailed off, and then smile slightly. The smile was completely without remorse. “I don't even remember what happened. I remember the screen door creaking when I pushed it open. Don't remember what time it was, or what the sky was like. I just remember the look on Calypso's eyes when she looked at George. That was the first time in years I had seen her look scared, Benjamin. Scared. I drove my fist into that boy's face so hard he was losing teeth for a week.” Amadeus right had tightened, fingers digging into his palm. Benjamin watched as if in a trance, caught up in the other boy's words. “First and only time I've ever been to jail. One night, out in the morning. But let me tell you, Benjamin ... I beat that boy so badly they didn't even try to put me up on damage charges. They went straight for manslaughter. I told the deputy that boy is lucky I let him crawl away. He's lucky I didn't...”
Amadeus' voice faded into the slight buzzing of the electric lights. Benjamin stared at him; a strange mixture of awe, respect, and fear. Amadeus breathed out suddenly, deeply, in a way that sounded like his body was shuddering.
“And you know what? I would do it again.” the boy's voice was genuine, with those words. He shook his head, slightly, his smile a baring of teeth. “Benjamin ... I am not a nice person.”