Carl's workshop

June 30, 2000

10:55 AM

Carl sighed as he watched his son fiddle fart with the shop vac, stretching out the simple job of cleaning up the large pile of dust, dirt and other crud he had swept up in the middle of the floor. If he just focused the kid would have been done ten minutes ago, Carl thought. He was tempted to say something about getting his butt in gear, but decided to let it go. Ben wouldn't say more than a dozen words at a time on a good day since he got back; even attempts at the sarcastic banter they used to play made the boy clam up. Sandy told him they needed to give him some space to get his head right from the accident, but it didn't seem to be working - he was so withdrawn and sad all the time. He still wasn't talking to his cousin, and not so long ago Carl thought that would be a good thing. That turned out to be about as wrong as he'd ever been. If it would make his boy smile and be happy again, he'd get her himself right this minute, and the hell with the little voice in his mind.

His musing was interrupted by the low rumble of a V8 just above idle pulling in to the driveway, carrying through the garage and back to his workshop, demanding both their attention. "I'm not expecting any visitors. What's your social calendar for today look like, Sport?" he called to Ben, trying to catch his eyes and grinning. All he got in return was a feeble snort. Not even a try at rolling his eyes! What's it gonna take, he thought, a little guilty at being annoyed.

He started walking to the sound, and was pleasantly surprised to see Ben shuffle in the same direction. At least he still had curiosity going for him. When they got to the open garage door, the source of the rumble turned out to be a light blue late 60s Mustang, a convertible no less. The driver switched it off and opened the door to get out, calling out "Hey, Shorty!" and grinning as he stood up.

Carl didn't recognize who it was right away, what with the baseball cap and sunglasses. He flinched at the word. It was almost guaranteed to get Ben pissed off, even without knowing who was insulting him, as much as he hated being teased over his height. Or lack of it, to be more accurate. He braced for some sort of outburst, but was gobsmacked at his actual reaction.

"Paul?" Ben said with a puzzled look as the driver took off the shades and hat, needing a second or two to place his karate buddy in this unexpected setting. Once he did his face brightened into a small grin. He met his friend at the front of the car, giving the front end an appreciative once-over before looking back at the older boy saying "Holy sh... Dude! This is so cool! Where did this come from?" Then he actually held his right hand up for a high five, which Paul finished with a resounding smack. Both kids grinned, and Carl was left feeling like he was invisible; this was such new behavior for his son. Well, for him to see, anyway, the gesture was obviously old hat between the two boys.

"Like it?!" Paul said. "I got it in Sacramento a couple weeks ago. I was just doing a little work on it, oil change and new brake pads. I was out giving it a test and figured I'd stop by and show it off!" He turned to face Carl. "I hope I'm not causing a problem, Mr T?" he said.

Problem? This was the most energetic he'd seen Ben in a week. The kid could stay all day if it kept Ben in this mood. And the politeness towards him was a nice bonus. Carl finished walking to the car, putting his hand out. "No, no problem, Paul. Good to see you again! I hope the bruises from the tournament didn't take long to go away!" he said with a smirk.

Paul shook his hand firmly and ducked his head. "You remember that? Yeah, they didn't last long. At least I didn't get laid out taking a kick to the chin!" He looked directly at Ben "Don't I keep telling you to stay focused, especially with her?"

Ben kicked at the tire and grumbled "Give me a break! She got me before I was ready!" For an instant his hang dog look was back, although Carl couldn't fathom where it came from. It was gone a second or two later, and Ben tried but couldn't hide a weak grin that showed there was no heat to his reply. Paul just shared the smirk Carl had, and let it go with a snort "Yeah, right!"

Ben's attention was back on the car, walking towards the back to admire the open interior. "So how fast does it go?"

Paul chuckled "Fast enough! I've had it up to 80 or so", then realized Carl might not be too impressed with admitting to speeding and quickly added "on the freeway! She handles pretty well on El Camino outside of town, too."

"Sounds like you made some improvement to the exhaust". Carl pointedly ignored Paul's inadvertent confession.

"Yeah, the pipes and mufflers were all rusted out, so I had some glass packs installed. Sounds nice, huh?"

"Yep! Even better on the freeway with the top down doing 65, I bet!" Carl couldn't resist. Paul had been pretty quick to figure out the game when he had last been to visit.

Even Ben got into it, finally. "Give it a rest, Dad! It's not like you go slower than 85!"

Carl smiled. It was good to see his son acting a bit normal. Hopefully it will last, he thought. He rubbed his right hand at the back of his neck. Maybe there's a way to help that along.

He looked at the road, then at Paul, then at Ben. "Why don't you find out? It's a nice day and we don't have any plans. You OK with taking the brat to get lunch, Paul? My shout." He laughed at the boys' confused looks. "That means I'm paying."

They looked at each other and grinned, and Paul said "Sure, I can do that! What do you say, Runt?"

Ben smiled at Carl and said "Duh! Let's go!"

Carl gave a 'have fun be careful' look back as he handed his son a twenty, and watched them jump in the car. Paul blipped the throttle as he started it up, and he had to admit the result sounded great. What a classic muscle car should sound like. "Be back in a few hours, and drive carefully Paul!" he called out as the car stopped backing out of the driveway. The smile on Ben's face was worth the grief he was sure he'd get from Sandy at letting him go off like this. She'd get over it.

— X —

El Camino Real

North of Bellwood

"Hey, Paul, how'd you know I was home?" Ben looked over at his friend and asked as they drove away from his house. It wasn't like they kept their summer plan a secret; as far as his classmates knew they should be a few states away by now. Paul glanced at him as he turned off his street towards El Camino.

"The dojo sent an email about classes starting back up in July, asking everyone who was planning to be in it to confirm. You and Gwen are on the list. Sensei sent me a separate message saying you guys had come back early because you were in a traffic accident. He asked if I'd stop by."

"He did? Why?"

Paul shrugged. "He knows the three of us are friends. I guess he wants to make sure you're OK." He stopped at a signal, then turned right onto the main street through town. "So, are you?"

Such a simple question. There were too many ways to answer, most were painful. Ben punted and took the quickest one, one he heard Grandpa say to someone who called while they were coming home from Aunt Vera's. "We survived, with some bumps and bruises." He laughed a little when he said it, and then he didn't have to talk about it for the rest of the call. Ben tried that, too; it wasn't a lie, after all. There was just no point in spilling the details. He was relieved but a little surprised when all Paul said was "Glad to hear it! Fender benders can be a real pinta", as he focused on driving.

"Pinta?"

Paul glanced over again and explained "Pain in the ass."

"Oh. Got it. ... So where are we going?" Ben asked. Paul had just started driving north after they left his house without even checking on where to get lunch. It didn't matter, really. Bellwood wasn't that big and he'd been to most of the usual fast food places around his neighborhood, and any of them would be OK. Especially after being cooped up in the house. Never mind that it was his decision to be that way.

"There's a place up the coast about half an hour that has the best dogs, burgers and burritos. I don't think you'll have trouble finding something on the menu. I've seen the crap you eat!" Paul smirked.

Ben was about to sass back when Paul shut him up good. He turned onto the freeway on-ramp and hit the accelerator, dumping gas down the carburetor and turning the easy rumble from the exhausts into a full throated roar as the car shot forward. Ben always wondered what it would feel like if his parents ever floored it with the truck or the van, but he was sure it wouldn't be like this! The way he was pressed back in his seat as the wind curled over the windshield and the engine sang out through the mufflers was awesome! The smile he got from it almost hurt, and he forgot about whatever he was going to say and just sat back to watch the world fly by. He turned to look out the driver's side and saw Paul with a shit eating grin, heard his friend shout over the wind noise "Not bad, huh?!" He just nodded his head, then glanced at the speedometer. 75, and the car felt rock solid under his butt! No, not bad at all, he thought.

The oceanside shack they stopped at was as good as Paul claimed, Ben discovered. They sat at an outside table away from the front door and dug in - a bacon sausage cheeseburger for him, and a carne asada burrito for Paul, shared chili cheese fries and sodas. 'Almost as good as from the 'To's in PB' he had told Ben when they ordered. Like that meant anything...

Even she would've been able to find something she liked; maybe the three of them could come another time. He started to grin at the daydream, but choked a little as his reality crushed it.

"You OK there, Squirt?" Paul asked around a mouthful.

"Yeah, just a slice of jalapeño I wasn't expecting" he coughed. Paul looked at him but kept chewing.

"Uh huh. Gotta watch out for surprises like that. ... So, got any new tunes in mind?"

"Yeah, a few..." While they ate, their conversation covered several songs he'd mentioned when he returned Paul's guitar in May and that he'd heard since then, careful to avoid the ones that had difficult attachments. Paul made a couple suggestions along with some playability comments for songs he already knew.

"With the way you play, you should check out Joe Satriani. His stuff fits your style. More complex than your typical head banger, but not as crazy as Steve Vai. Still, it won't be a problem for you, I think you'd like it. Gwen probably would, too, since she likes Cliffs!" he added with his easy grin. "I saw the new songs you did with my guitar that you put on your Napster list! Pretty cool! Still don't know how you managed to get all of Cliffs down so quickly... And you're gonna have to show me how you mixed two guitar tracks into one song! All those tunes sound really good!"

Ben was only half listening, unsuccessfully trying not to focus on the memory of Fourarms jamming for her, watching her dance and smile, scooping her up and hearing her squeal and laugh as he spun them both around! It was one of his best days with her... But his smile turned into a pained frown at the thought there wouldn't be any more.

"Have you been playing much since you got back?" Paul asked as he gathered up the trash from his burrito, crunched it in a ball and chucked it at a trash can behind Ben, shouting "Yeet!" At the same time Ben mumbled "No, I busted a string last week."

"Yes! Nailed it!" as the trash rattled into the can. Paul grinned, pumping his fist before the answer registered. He focused on Ben and frowned. "Another one? How do you go through so many... All right Shorty, the last time I saw you look like that was in January. What's going on?"

Ben saw the actual magnitude of their 'fender bender' start to dawn on Paul's face. "You got more than a few bumps and bruises, didn't you? Is Gwen OK?" His frown turned into a worried look.

"Yes. Sort of - she got a concussion and Grandpa said the seatbelt hurt her pretty bad..." His voice trailed off as he stared in misery again at the table top.

"Holy shit! You've been sitting on that all this time?! ... You don't know how she's doing? Haven't you two..." Paul stopped and stared at him. "You aren't talking again? What the hell happened?"

The words tumbled out. "The Rust Bucket crashed while we were in Phoenix the night... That night. She's getting better! My aunt told my mom a couple days ago. But she sleeps a lot, Aunt Lili says she needs time to recover from the concussion, so I'm not supposed to go over or even text. ... I don't know what I can say to her... When we crashed she was hurt so bad, and I couldn't help her. Grandpa and Aunt Vera did, but I didn't do anything to make her stop hurting!"

Ben was ashamed and scared and alone because of his failure. He looked up at Paul, pleading with his eyes for his friend to understand, feeling them overflowing "I didn't have her back..." He couldn't keep talking, he heard his voice shaking and he wasn't going to wuss out. Not here, not in front of Paul. He hung his head and sniffled.

"Oh, man... Dude, you didn't cause it. What could you have done to help when she got hurt? That's what EMTs and doctors are for."

Ben looked up with watery eyes. "I should have..." But he couldn't say what he should, what he could have done if he had stayed with her. How he could have wrapped her in Cannonbolt to cushion the crash. Or grabbed her as Big Chill and phased out of the wreck, or... or something besides rushing off to be the hero without waiting for her, for his partner. His hero. It was his fault the drone destroyed the RV, and Vilgax made sure he knew it. He felt a tear slide down his cheek and wiped it away angrily.

"I should have done something besides stand there like an idiot! Why would she talk to me now after I didn't keep her safe?" he glared at Paul.

"Did Gwen say that?" Paul asked quietly.

"No, but I know. We didn't talk all the way home. She won't even look at me." Ben said miserably and put his forehead in his hands, elbows resting on the table.

Paul sighed. "Dude. You don't know, you just think you do. I get what you're feeling. I do. But I think I know you both pretty well, and I'm sure that's not what she feels. About herself, maybe, but not about you."

He stopped and watched Ben, searching for what to say. "I know this sounds obvious, but it's true - bad shit happens and sometimes there's nothing we can do about it. It doesn't mean you screwed up! She knows you watch out for her, she told me so! Just like she watches out for you, right?"

"Yeah.." he said softly. She did, after she found him.

"And what about you? And your Grandpa?"

"Huh? ... He's OK." His nose was much better, he said so when he talked to Ben a few days ago. "I wasn't... I didn't get hurt like she did." Only adding to his guilt.

Paul looked at him carefully. "That doesn't mean you didn't get hurt. You're just able to hide it a little better than she can right now. You're not OK."

Ben looked up as he felt a hand on his shoulder. Paul was looking at him sympathetically. "Make this simple for you both, go see her. I know what she means to you. Don't do January again. Neither of you deserves that." Paul moved his hand off his shoulder and lightly shoved his head back off his palms, and said "And you can always unload on me when you need to. Hear me? ... Stubborn little bastard!" with a goofy grin. Ben gave him a grateful look back, scrubbing his cheeks with his hands.

"Come on, clean up that crap. Time to head back. ... I've got a cassette in the car I think you'll like." Paul stood up and faked a jump shot at the trash can with his empty soda cup, missing it by a mile. "Shit! … No comments from the peanut gallery!" he glared at Ben as he strangled back a snort.

As they got in the car, Ben asked "Um... What the hell is the 'toes' you said about your burrito? They don't really come with toes in them?"

"Dude, for real?" Paul laughed. "Its not like tongue or tripe. It's a thing in San Diego, there's a ton of little hole in the wall Mexican joints that sell carne asada, and they all end in 'to's'. Alberto's, Roberto's, Humberto's, Aliberto's ... They're all over the place, you can't hardly turn around to sneeze without seeing one! There's one near the roller coaster in Pacific Beach that I went to all the time. Best Mexican food you'll ever have! Nothing like them in Bellwood, but this place comes close." He turned the key in the ignition and popped the gas pedal again, getting a satisfying rumble from the back of the car.

— X —

Ben's street

1:00 PM

They didn't talk much on the way home. It wasn't necessarily that Ben didn't want to, it was just too hard, what with the sounds of the wind, engine, exhaust (and yes, the motor and exhaust made very different sounds, and both were their own kind of music - who knew!), and Paul's surf music blasting out of the speakers. He never would have guessed a convertible would be so difficult to talk in; any speed over 40 was just too noisy.

It was just as well, what Paul said had him thinking. Maybe he was dweebing out, overthinking both of their reactions. Could it be as easy as his friend made it sound? Just talk to her...

As Paul turned into his neighborhood, the noise level went down so they could hear each other without yelling again. "The dojo opens up in a couple weeks. I don't know about you, but I'm a little rusty, there's only so much you can get from practicing by yourself. Next time I come over we can start getting back in shape again, OK?"

Ben hadn't considered that. Doing karate meant they'd have to be near each other again. Another reason to just start talking now.

They were on his street, and Paul was saying "... I've got to get back, I told my folks we were just getting lunch." Ben looked over at him, and Paul split his attention from driving and watching him. "Don't blow off what I said about Gwen. You aren't OK, not yet. You two need to get together and help each other. Soon." He pulled into the driveway and stopped the car, switched it off, then gave Ben a serious look. "Got it?"

"Yeah, I heard you." Ben said as he got out of the car.

"Good." Paul twisted the key in the ignition, the motor started up with the little explosion again and settled down to idle, and he grinned at the sound. "Jeeze I love that!"

Ben grinned back, then said "Thanks, Paul!" as the blond put the car in reverse, backed into the street and stopped. "De nada. See you later, Runt!" He shifted into drive and pressed evenly on the gas, the glass packs burbling as the car pulled away.

He couldn't hold back a smile at the sound, either.

— X —

Ben's Bedroom

1:36 PM

It sounded so easy when Paul said it. Just call her.

It took twenty minutes or so to tell his parents about where they went, did Paul drive safely, what kind of food they had (Mom's questions, go figure!), more about the Mustang, was the food any good (standard Dad). He finally ran out of things he would say and went up to his room and closed the door. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the phone on the nightstand.

It really would be simple, just pick it up and press the speed dial.

All the things Paul said that made so much sense were swept away in the oppressive silence. After she answered, what then? What could he possibly say that would let her forgive him, and be his Dweeb again?

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