The Ben Story
“Josh, Josh, Josh, Josh!”
“Yea, Matt?”
“Ben just called me.”
“Okay…”
“Yeah, he wants you to meet him tomorrow at Fell Park.”
“Really…? When?”
“’Round noon.”
“Why?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Okay…?”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. Meet him?”
And thus it began one of the funniest stories of my life. It’s not really that life
altering, or that much of a moral example, actually the tale stems from the total lack of
any morality or seeming moral thought. It was one of the greatest days of my life.
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I hadn’t seen or talked to Ben for quite some time. I believe it had been over a
year, and when you’re fifteen a year a quite a long time. Something definitely didn’t
smell right, and it wasn’t me.
Why now after so long? I hadn’t done anything. Why at Fell Park? Why at
noon? High noon, it’s like a bad western movie. Why did he call Matt, why not just call
me directly? Okay, maybe he lost my number; then why not get my number from Matt?
I didn’t understand it, but I had my suspicions. So I did what I always did in
those days when something was up, I called JR.
Joshua Lawrence Retzor had been a good friend of mine for quite some time,
about two years. He was taller than me, six feet and two inches, a point of contention
between us; he always claimed the he had the extra inch and I always blamed it on the
boots he wore. Yet, despite our similar height, he was obviously bigger then me, by a
great deal. He more than doubled my weight, if not more than that.
I believe this physical difference was a major factor in our relationship.
He grew up in the rough parts of many towns. I, on the other hand, grew up in
middleclass, white, breadbasket, Bible-belt Normal, Illinois. He apparently thought I was
weak and took steps to protect me.
The conversation was short. I told him that Matt had called, and what
Matt had said to me. He paused for only a moment then said, “I’ll be down tomorrow.”
It was all I needed; I hung up the phone and went to bed.
The next morning arrived with surprisingly little fan-fare. I wouldn’t have
been at all shocked to find Ben waiting for me in my room. I lacked self-confidence and
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I knew that I was physically inferior to most small woodland creatures, this translated
into paranoia.
I got up, showered and got dressed. I walked to summer school, as I had walked
for many days previous. This day, though, it seemed to take longer. I kept looking over
my shoulder, worried.
I got to school and immediately felt better. The emotional demons that had
plagued me during my walk couldn’t stand up to the ugly yellow and green of U-High’s
walls. It was within these demon-banishing walls that my class was taught.
I meandered through the halls, as freshmen tend to do, enjoying my freedom. I
headed north and then west, knowing where I was going, but in no hurry to get there.
When I opened the door to my class a whole technological wonder opened up
before me. There were six rows of computers, all facing in. I had expected to see the
backs of heads blocking the monitors from my view, yet I did not, I was early.
I spotted Bret and Chad standing in a corner, quietly talking. They were early too,
we were all freshmen and as such had nothing to do.
Chad McKittrick was one of the few friends that I had retained from junior high.
He was short with close-cut, dark brown hair. His eyes were a light green and his skin of
an always-tan copper. In my opinion, he was attractive. His attitude was always gentle,
which belied his physical fitness.
Bret, on the other hand, was aggressive. He was taller then Chad with short cut
sandy brown hair. He had a gap in-between his two front teeth that he could shoot water
out of, it gave his smile false a innocence that usually worked to his advantage. His
stance spoke of constant motion, of rebellion and of change.
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I came up to them and interrupted them, telling them, in a round about way, that
my life was a bad western, as I had a showdown at high noon. They both told me, also in
a round about way, that they wanted parts.
When I reached my seat I was questioned by Steve, who sat next to me. Steve
was pro’lly about as out of shape as I was. He was shorter then myself, with low set eyes
of green. He was on his way to becoming the moral person that he would later in life, but
not quite there yet.
I told Steve that there would most likely be a fight. Or more to the point, I was
bringing my friends to deter such a course of action. Steve informed me that he would
love to deter. As I never was one to refuse good company I told him that I would love to
have him along for this fine adventure.
Class ended and we prepared to leave. During class time, Chad had realized that
he had an orthodontist appointment; and as such he decided that the condition of his
braces were more important then my physical well-being.
Steve, Bret and I walked out of the school building on that clear summer day. We
found on the outside two men, both of whom I recognized instantly. One was tall and
thick, dressed all in black with a red flannel shirt tied around his waist. That was JR.
The other was shorter and about as stocky. He was wearing shorts and a white Tshirt, prefect for riding on the bike he held in front of him. His hair was short, curly and
brown. This was Todd, whom I had also known from Junior High.
These two friends of mine were talking when we walked outside. I could tell
from the look on Todd’s face that JR had told him what was going on and that he was up
for it. After a brief pause for small talk we started for the park.
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It was during this walk that of bond a friendship was formed. It was one of those
Breakfast Club things that occurs from time to time, never to be recaptured. As we
walked and talked and laughed we were no longer five young men on the verge of
adulthood, about to grow up and realize that the world wasn’t all that our freshmen minds
thought it to be. We were no longer friends and acquaintances that just happened to run
into each other and soon enough go our own way again. We were brothers united in a
common cause, together in that moment in time, reaching out to achieve one purpose: to
walk to a park.
We made good time and arrived at the park in a little under twenty minutes. The
park was small, only sprawling over one city block. It was square and framed by
sidewalks. Slashing boldly diagonally though the middle was a similar sidewalk. It was
this bold sidewalk that my companions and I took.
Towards the middle of the park, just off that sidewalk, was a large, old tree. And
sitting within the shade of that tree was a wooden picnic table. This table was the ideal
place to sit, and there we waited.
There we came upon the interesting topic of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
We were all, as freshmen, much too sophisticated to actually still watch the show.
However we were able to reflect, in very removed terms, on our younger days when the
Turtles were kings.
It was not long before we realized that there were five people in the group. After
I was assigned the title of Splinter the other four decided which Turtle they represented
within this group. It was a very enlightening personality analysis.
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With all our parts decided Ben still hadn’t shown up. But then again it was five
till twelve so he still had time.
Just as the Turtles conversation was coming to an end JR came upon a wonderful
thought. We could arrange ourselves in ‘Posse Positions.’ This was assuming that we
were the posse, of course. This would be done to make us look like a unified group.
We all agreed and JR went to work.
When all was in order I found myself sitting on the top of the table, facing south
while everyone else sat on the other side, facing north. Someone handed me a
pocketknife to clean my fingernails with, just for that added touch.
It wasn’t long after that Ben rode up on his bike. He came flying down the
sidewalk in the middle of the park and spun his back tire to a halt. To this impressive
display of bike mastery Bret coughed out under his breath, “Bad ass.”
Ben got off his bike and walked over to me, doing his best to try and ignore the
four sets of eyes that followed his every movement. He looked up at me and noticed the
knife and paused for a moment.
I knew then that he was officially shaken and that it was now my move. I slowly
closed the knife and placed it in my pocket without looking at him. Then I slowly raised
my eyes to meet his.
With a totally somber face I said lightly, “Hey, Ben. You wanted to talk to me?”
“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you.”
“Okay, what about?”
Here he paused, just for a moment. There was no going back now. “I hear you
called my girlfriend a skank.”
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This took me back for a moment. What the hell was he talking about? His
girlfriend? There was only one thing that I could say back: “What?”
“I hear you called my girlfriend a skank.” This time he was more instant and
more sure of himself.
Alright, this time I was sure that I understood him. However, there was one point
that I didn’t quite understand: “Ben, who is your girlfriend?”
Another pause. “You know.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You have to!”
“Ben! I didn’t call your girlfriend a skank! I don’t know who she is!” I was
getting exasperated. I didn’t know who his skanky girlfriend was and even if I did know
her and even if I did call her a skank, what does it matter? Ben was a skank, it was
obvious just to look at him, so I guess that anyone he’d date would be also. He should
admit this to himself.
Ben was always quick with comeback, and this time was no exception. What he
said back to me was: “Why don’t you get up and say that to my face?”
Wait, wait, wait, wait. Back the fuck up. Did he really just say that? Could that
actually be said in real life without the entire world blowing up at the cheesyness of such
a comment? Apparently so.
At least I could take comfort in my brothers sitting behind me. I shared their flesh
and blood. I shared their soul, their purpose. It was obvious to the whole world that we
were one. Ben wouldn’t do anything realizing what would follow, so I might as well give
him what he wants.
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I stood up. I rose to my full over-six-feet height and with the addition of the
picnic table bench between me and I ground I towered over all creation. I looked down at
Ben as he strained his neck to look up at me. His eyes were clouded over with
fanaticism.
Still unafraid, I hopped down from the bench. I then hit the ground and bent my
knees, bouncing. I looked Ben strait in the eye and slowly, precisely with full
enunciation and total understanding of the words I spoke I said to him thus: “Ben. I-didnot-call-your-girlfriend-a-skank.”
I suddenly found myself moving at a high rate of speed forward. Ben’s face
almost pressed into mine. I could feel his breath, and I found it odd that I couldn’t smell
it.
I was expecting something, a pain in the gut, a fist in my face, something. The
only thing I did feel was a tap on the back of the head. A tap! He fuckin’ tapped me on
the back of the head! Who sucker punches someone on the back of the head? I was
almost insulted. What! am I too much of a pansy to actually hit?
I stepped back though. There was no use in me standing there for him to
reconsider and actually hit me. Little did I know, he’d never get the chance.
As I stepped back I saw a flash of color out of the corner of my eye. It took me a
moment to realize that the color was Bret jumping across the picnic table. I didn’t think
anyone could move that fast.
In the blink of an eye my brothers were on their feet, attacking a threat to their
kin. I don’t recalling seeing any, save Bret, move, but in a moment Ben was on the
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ground, back pressed against the tree with four people standing over him. Delivering
blows.
I hadn’t believed they’d actually do it. I hadn’t believed there’d be a cause.
I was at the same time revolted and impressed. I was, at the time, anti-violence
and on some moral level this upset me. Yet on a higher level of conciseness I felt a great
swelling of pride that these people had been willing to commit this despicable act and
risk physical injury for me.
I watched as Ben was kicked and hit. I watched as he tried to get up and JR
swung his fists over his shoulder to land a blow on his back, sending him back to the
ground. I watched as Bret punched again and again, then realizing that he held a
pocketknife in his hand, threw it away. I watched at Todd delivered one vicious blow
after another with his boots. I watched as Steve hesitantly struck out, finally realizing
what he was doing. I watched it all, torn between stopping it and joining in.
Ben finally got back on his feet and when he did Todd and Steve backed away.
JR also backed away, tossing off his sunglasses in preparation for the attack that never
came. Bret, on the other hand, was taken by frenzy, never letting up with his blows.
Ben stumbled off with Bret right with him. He tried to push Bret away from him,
but in his weakened state he failed. After receiving a few more punches to his midsection
Ben finally pushed Bret away.
Ben was a sorry sight. His shirt was ripped from the collar down, leaving about
two-inches intact at the bottom hem. His exposed chest heaved as he tried desperately to
force air into his lungs. He was not bleeding.
Bret was fine. He was ready to keep going. Bret was a fighter, no doubt about it.
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Neither Bret nor Ben spoke, they just looked at each other. It was then that Ben
lost the fight.
Admitting defeat Ben stumbled over to JR’s discarded glasses. JR told him to
move. Ben kept trying to catch his breath. JR told him to move again. Ben still did not
respond. Finally JR took a threatening movement towards Ben. Ben reacted by falling
away from the eyewear.
It was quite a long time that the five of us stood there, watching Ben find his
breath. Once he did so, he regained some composure and self-respect to walk somewhat
regally over to me again.
“You-should have-fought me,” he coughed out.
“Why?” was my quick retort.
“You should-have fought me.”
“No.”
“You should have fought me.”
“No, Ben, I shouldn’t have. I don’t fight, you should have known that.”
“You called my girlfriend a skank.”
“Ben! Who the hell is your girlfriend?”
“You called her a skank.”
“Who is she?”
“You called her a skank.”
“No.”
“Yes, you did.”
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“Ben, I did not call your girlfriend a skank. On that you have my word.” With
that I got up from the table and turned and walked away, my brothers falling in behind
me. We left Ben standing there with his ragged breath and his ripped shirt.
I still don’t know who his girlfriend was.
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