Disposable Teens, chapter five
Chapter four
At seven o’clock precisely, Ben was waiting on the steps outside his apartment building, watching the street expectantly for Ray’s car. He tried to quell a moment of panic that his outfit might perhaps be too casual; Ray had instructed him to “ditch the tweed”, indicating with evident distaste the thrift store suit he’d purchased upon being appointed to the post of head librarian. Since the only other clothes he owned were jeans and comfortably worn shirts and sweaters, he’d opted for the newest of each, but waiting for Ray gave him chance to wonder about where they were going for dinner. He remembered the trendy bar they’d unexpectedly visited that afternoon, and its trendy young patrons in dress shirts and expensive shoes. Looking down at his own boots, he wondered if perhaps the whole evening might perhaps be a mistake. But it was five past seven, Ray was due to arrive any moment and there was no time to change and no way of contacting him.
When Ray’s car finally pulled up by the kerb, he would probably have had time to change his clothes three times, but since Ray had courteously offered to drive him, Ben did not comment on his late arrival. Instead he climbed into the car with a smile.
“You know, I almost didn’t believe you,” Ray announced by way of a greeting.
“About what?”
“About you living here.” Ray made a gesture that took in not just Ben’s apartment building but also the surrounding streets. “The last time I drove down this street, I was on my way to arrest somebody.”
Surprised at Ray’s tone, Ben glanced down the street. At this time, there was scarcely any traffic and only a couple of pedestrians, toting shopping bags and making their slow way home.
“Is there something wrong with my neighbourhood?”
Ray looked at him as though he were speaking gibberish.
“Something wrong? Benny, even the most disaffected, deprived kids I work with think this is a bad neighbourhood. Now, I don’t know how much they pay head librarians in Chicago, but surely it’s enough to be able to afford a nicer place to live.”
Ben shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not sure how to respond to Ray’s blatant criticism of his home. Of course, since Ray lived with a large family, he probably had a correspondingly large house, no doubt in one of the nicer suburbs - his personal tastes ran to expensively tailored clothes and his car was a “painstakingly and lovingly restored classic” - Ray’s own words - which had to have cost almost as much as a house itself.
“It’s convenient,” he argued in what he hoped was a reasonable tone of voice. “Close to work, close to a park where I can walk Diefenbaker - you know, I didn’t come across many places that allowed animals when I was looking for an apartment.”
“Diefenbaker? That your dog?”
“Wolf, actually.”
Ray turned to look at Ben, who tried not to show his discomfort at Ray taking his eyes off the road.
“You own a wolf?”
“He’s half-wolf, really. As to the other half, I’m not entirely certain.”
Ray shook his head, giving a general indication of his disbelief.
“Benny, why am I just now finding out about your oddball tendencies?”
“Oddball?”
“I mean, the whole politeness thing I could understand at first. I thought, you know, he’s Canadian, it’s not really a big deal, nothing wrong with having manners even if you do end up being last in line for everything. But to suddenly find out you own a wolf, you spend your Friday nights reading about Robert Hofflebeck - “
“Richard Huelsenbeck.”
“ - and you live on West Racine? Benny, I gotta tell ya, I’m beginning to worry about you.”
Turning to the window to hide his surprise, Ben tried to analyse Ray’s voice for sarcasm or jest. It was often difficult to tell whether Ray’s complaints were sincere. Sometimes they came with enough of a smile that Ben knew immediately that no offense was meant, and if there was no smile then the lack of aggressive action on Ray’s part gave him away. But it was dangerous to assume that all Ray’s irritability was benign. Ben had seen him explode at students and staff when he was particularly stressed at work, and had himself caught the brunt of Ray’s anger on a couple of occasions when he had tried to intervene.
After an uncomfortable period of quiet, Ben prepared to speak again.
“While we’re on the subject, Ray, I’m beginning to wonder if perhaps I’m not dressed appropriately for a restaurant.” Certainly Ray looked much smarter than he in his dark grey suit and deep green high-neck sweater.
Ray turned his attention away from the road just long enough to give Ben’s appearance a cursory once-over.
“You’ll do. At least you ditched that suit you had on today. D’you get that thing second-hand or something?”
“Yes, Ray.”
“Seriously? That thing is déjà worn?”
“It was in perfectly good condition when I bought it, Ray. I see no reason why it should be inappropriate for work.”
“Well, I guess for librarians, the stuffy tweedy look is in right now.”
The lightly teasing tone had returned, and Ben wondered if perhaps it was some sort of game, if maybe Ray would continue griping as long as he continued defending himself.
“I wasn’t aware that a keen sense of couture was a requirement of the job.”
“Yeah, well, I think you’d look passable in just about anything, Benny. God, they could dress you up like a cowboy or somethin’ with the dumb hat and the stupid pants and half the women at work’d still be gossiping about you in the teachers’ lounge.”
“They really do that?”
Ray cast him a sideways glance, not bothering to hide his smirk.
“A word of advice. Stay away from Ms Rooke - she just got divorced and she’s on the rebound.”
“Oh.”
Suddenly keen to hide the flush he could feel in his cheeks, Ben turned back to the window.
They passed the rest of the journey to the restaurant with small talk about work and about other places in the city that Ray thought Ben might like to visit. He was feeling much more relaxed by the time they arrived, cheered by the warm, welcoming atmosphere of the restaurant.
There were other people already waiting to be seated: a middle-aged couple engaged in a conversation about the reliability of their babysitter, and a group of women chatting loudly about the office where they presumably worked. Ben smiled politely at the other patrons as he and Ray stood to one side. For a while he examined the menu that was displayed on the wall, not feeling comfortable continuing their conversation within earshot of perfect strangers. Curiously, many of the dishes on the menu did not appear to be authentic Chinese foods. Rather, they seemed comprised of common Western ingredients served in Chinese-style sauces. In a hushed voice, he pointed this out to Ray.
“Benny, we’re right in the middle Chinatown,” Ray hissed back. “You can’t get any more authentic than this.”
Before he could explain that the menu contained far too many red meat dishes than was truly representative of a typical Chinese diet, they were interrupted by one of the office women who had turned from her friends to lay a hand on Ben’s elbow.
“You know, we come here all the time and I’ve never seen you here before.”
She smiled up at him, her fingers brushing back and forth over the sleeve of his shirt. A little startled by her interruption, Ben found himself stuttering a little as he replied.
“No, this is my first visit,” he explained.
She stepped closer, standing between him and Ray. Her hand slid up to his bicep.
“Well, I’d be happy to recommend something from the menu. Why don’t you join us at our table?”
There was no mistaking the lascivious tone of her voice.
There weren’t many situations that Ben had not been trained to deal with. Unfortunately, this was one of them, and so far he still had not formed an effective way to extricate himself from the attentions of the kind of sexually aggressive women the city produced.
“Thank you, um, but I’m…I’m, uh…”
He looked over at Ray. The other man was glaring at the back of her head, clearly irritated at the way she had interrupted their conversation. He tapped her on the shoulder; when she turned and frowned at him, Ray gave her a smile.
“Hi. Ray Vecchio,” he announced, a little too brightly to be sincere. “If you’d like to join us at our table, I’m sure we could find room for you.”
She glanced between the two of them, eventually removing her hands from Ben’s arm.
“Maybe some other time,” she told Ben, “if you ever come back by yourself.”
Before he could respond, her group were led to their table, chattering and laughing loudly all the way. The woman glanced at him over her shoulder, looking him up and down. Ben’s eyes were drawn to the movement of her shoulder-blades, displayed so carelessly by the low cut of her dress. She was what Ben had come to think of as fashionably thin rather than toned from exercise, her bare skin on display for potential suitors and not to feel the benefit of the restaurant’s interior warmth.
It was downright bewildering, sometimes, the way sex was so casual in places like Chicago. What he’d learned to think of as a private expression of love or a necessary way of producing offspring was nothing more than a hobby here. Thinly veiled metaphors and innuendos peppered everyday conversation, and when he did not understand them it seemed some women were only too happy to explain in plain English. Sex was a marketing tool, a source of endless frustration, or simply a pleasant way to while away an evening, and he’d learned from overheard conversations between students that it was even a status symbol. No wonder, then, that girls like Hayley were so often in the kind of trouble that Ray had been so scared of.
Ray’s hand on his shoulder interrupted his thoughts. He remembered himself enough to stop staring after the group of women, and he and Ray moved to stand in the place they had just vacated.
“That happen to you a lot?” Ray’s voice was equal measures exasperation and amusement.
“More than I’d like,” he muttered.
The middle-aged couple were seated next, and they were left alone.
“She was a looker, though,” Ray continued, nodding toward the table where the group were sitting. “I guess I wouldn’t have blamed you entirely if you’d gone. You could have asked her for her number or something.”
He turned to Ray, positively shocked at the thought that Ray expected him to leave.
“I don’t even know her.”
“But wouldn’t you like to get to know her?” Ray’s eyebrows were raised in an expression of hope.
“I’m sure that, in different circumstances, we could enjoy a pleasant conversation.”
Ray looked back across at her, blatantly staring.
“Benny, I don’t think she’s the kind of girl who goes in for pleasant conversation.” Ben fixed him with a look of unabashed outrage until Ray raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, you’re not a one-night-stand kinda guy. I respect that. But you gotta put yourself out there if you don’t want to spend all your Friday nights at home reading with your wolf.”
He considered pointing out that he enjoyed spending Friday nights at home reading. Then again, he was enjoying this Friday night out with Ray, and since he’d spent lots of Friday nights at home and only one Friday night out since he’d arrived in Chicago, perhaps he ought to give going out more of a chance before he made a decision.
“I will endeavour to try, Ray,” he conceded. Ray looked pleased, so that seemed to be enough.
“I get the feeling they didn’t have much of a heavy social scene in your part of Canada, am I right?”
“Not like this.”
Ray looked thoughtful for a moment, then asked, “Which part of Canada is that, exactly?”
“I grew up in Inuvik,” he explained, “then we moved to Alert, and then to Tuktoyaktuk.”
“Your grandparents were travelling librarians?” It was said with a smile, as though Ray didn’t quite believe him.
“Yes, Ray.”
They were quiet for a moment, until Ray leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “You realise I have no idea where those places are?”
Ben fished his pen out from his pocket and began to look around for something on which he could write. When Ray realised what he was doing, he passed over one of the restaurant’s take-out menus. On the back there was enough space for Ben to draw a rough outline map of Canada. As an afterthought, he outlined the rest of North America too, to give an indication of scale. Then he marked on the places where he had lived and worked. Ray took the pen from him and marked Chicago on the map - technically he made a mark somewhere in the middle of Lake Michigan, but Ben decided not to correct him - and breathed a quiet “Wow” as he moved the pen between the ‘x’ that marked Inuvik and the ‘x’ for Chicago.
“You came all that way to be a high school librarian?”
“Not exactly.” He handed the menu to Ray, who folded it and slipped it into the inside pocket of his jacket.
Although he avoided eye contact, he could feel Ray studying him intently.
“You’re not gonna tell me why you moved.”
“No.”
A moment more of quiet.
“Okay.”
It was there, unspoken and silent but there between them. Ben could feel the weight of understanding as something shared between the two of them. He did not want to explain, and Ray would not ask. And because Ray would not ask, he knew that eventually he would explain.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
After three more Friday nights out and one Friday night in at Ray’s own house, Ben had reached the decision that going out definitely had its merits. When Tuesdays came around, he and Ray would make their weekend plans after class and Ben actually found himself wishing that Friday would come sooner. How quickly Ray had become central to his life in Chicago. Each weekly staff meeting gave him things he wanted to discuss with Ray, and each class that used the library gave him ideas he wanted to share with Ray. No matter that they seemed to disagree on so many of the school issues they talk about. Just the simple act of starting the conversation and having someone continue it until was a source of joy. They would start out debating the principal’s latest education initiative and somehow, half an hour later, would find themselves talking about the newest books in the library or what Ray’s mother had made for dinner the night before.
It spilled over into Ray’s Tuesday morning classes, and when they found themselves with only four students present one morning, Ray’s lesson plan was abandoned for the six of them to sit around a table to talk.
“Some virus going around,” Ray explained after the lesson had ended. “A couple of parents called the school this morning - Rosie and Tyler are gonna be absent for the rest of the week.”
“And the others?” Ben asked.
“Probably just taking advantage of it. Slightest little tickle in their throat and they’ll decide to stay off school. Well, maybe not Michael or Jake. Their parents, we wouldn’t really expect them to call in.” There was, for a moment, a touch of melancholy in his voice, then he breezed on. “But the others, I wouldn’t be surprised if they just decided not to come in today since so many other kids are out.”
“Do you have to report them if they’re playing truant?” They had moved to the counter, where Ben was sorting through the memos Lucy had left for him.
“If they didn’t come to school at all, then their homeroom teacher would’ve reported any absences. If they were in homeroom but not in my class then yeah, I’d report it. Not that it’d do any good.”
Ben knew from experience all about Ray’s frustrations with the school’s administrations, especially when it came to his twelve students. If Ray had something specific to complain about, he would. Otherwise it was generally best not to ask, unless they were away from the school and Ray could vent his anger without it spilling over into his work.
By the end of the day Ben had noticed a significant drop in the number of students using the library and heard reports from several other teachers about absences due to illness. Whatever virus was going around, he hoped it was nothing too serious.
He was collecting his jacket from the library office when Lucy stuck her head around the door.
“There was a message for you from the office - can you see Mr Vecchio in F-block before you leave?”
He thanked Lucy for the message and left her to her paperwork. Ben had visited F-block only once before, to deliver some library posters to another teacher. Strange that Ray would ask him to visit; they did all their planning in the library, and if Ray wanted to talk about anything else he would usually come to see Ben rather than send for him.
Walking down the hallway, Ben could easily see why students here became so de-motivated. Hairline cracks wound crazily across walls and ceilings, and scuff-marks showed where bored students had waited outside classrooms, kicking their feet. There were no displays on the walls here, no signs of achievement. Instead of the bright motivational posters that were pinned up around the rest of the school, the walls bore graffiti tags written in fat black marker, and the occasional dent or hole where a frustrated student had lashed out. It was thoroughly depressing.
Ben’s heart ached for them.
He found Ray sitting at the desk in his office. His jacket was draped across the desk, his briefcase on its side next to it. Ray motioned for Ben to sit down. He didn’t look up.
“We got a call from Stephanie’s parents this afternoon.” Ray’s voice was flat, empty.
“Is she ill too?”
Ray let out a long breath, rested his forearms on the desk and leaned over towards him but did not meet his eyes.
“She’s in the hospital.” Ben let his surprise and concern show but did not interrupt. “They thought at first that she’d OD’d, but now…now they think the stuff she took was…” Ray made a vague gesture with one hand. Ben understood. “She wouldn’t have OD’d on purpose. She was doing good, her parents said she was, said everything was…” He trailed off again and finally looked up at Ben.
Ben could find no words of solace that could possibly remove the hurt and the anger in those huge eyes. He simply stood and picked up Ray’s jacket and briefcase, holding them out for Ray. After a moment of hesitation, Ray stood and moved around the desk to take them.
They didn’t speak until they reached Ray’s car. When he paused to unlock the door, Ben rested a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sure the doctors are doing everything they can to help her.”
“I should have known.” Ben winced as Ray slammed one hand down on the car’s roof. “I thought, maybe, but I didn’t…” He ducked his head, drew a deep breath that seemed to catch a little in his throat.
“Would you have called her parents? Would you have said you thought their daughter was taking drugs again? After all her hard work, and theirs? And yours?”
He saw Ray’s eyes widen in fear at the thought of that conversation. Ben rubbed his hand over Ray’s shoulder.
“You helped her, Ray. Whatever happened was beyond your control.”
Knowing that Ray would still agonise over everything he could have done, Ben could offer nothing more than this gesture of friendship, and hope that Ray had the strength not to let this get the better of him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter six
At seven o’clock precisely, Ben was waiting on the steps outside his apartment building, watching the street expectantly for Ray’s car. He tried to quell a moment of panic that his outfit might perhaps be too casual; Ray had instructed him to “ditch the tweed”, indicating with evident distaste the thrift store suit he’d purchased upon being appointed to the post of head librarian. Since the only other clothes he owned were jeans and comfortably worn shirts and sweaters, he’d opted for the newest of each, but waiting for Ray gave him chance to wonder about where they were going for dinner. He remembered the trendy bar they’d unexpectedly visited that afternoon, and its trendy young patrons in dress shirts and expensive shoes. Looking down at his own boots, he wondered if perhaps the whole evening might perhaps be a mistake. But it was five past seven, Ray was due to arrive any moment and there was no time to change and no way of contacting him.
When Ray’s car finally pulled up by the kerb, he would probably have had time to change his clothes three times, but since Ray had courteously offered to drive him, Ben did not comment on his late arrival. Instead he climbed into the car with a smile.
“You know, I almost didn’t believe you,” Ray announced by way of a greeting.
“About what?”
“About you living here.” Ray made a gesture that took in not just Ben’s apartment building but also the surrounding streets. “The last time I drove down this street, I was on my way to arrest somebody.”
Surprised at Ray’s tone, Ben glanced down the street. At this time, there was scarcely any traffic and only a couple of pedestrians, toting shopping bags and making their slow way home.
“Is there something wrong with my neighbourhood?”
Ray looked at him as though he were speaking gibberish.
“Something wrong? Benny, even the most disaffected, deprived kids I work with think this is a bad neighbourhood. Now, I don’t know how much they pay head librarians in Chicago, but surely it’s enough to be able to afford a nicer place to live.”
Ben shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not sure how to respond to Ray’s blatant criticism of his home. Of course, since Ray lived with a large family, he probably had a correspondingly large house, no doubt in one of the nicer suburbs - his personal tastes ran to expensively tailored clothes and his car was a “painstakingly and lovingly restored classic” - Ray’s own words - which had to have cost almost as much as a house itself.
“It’s convenient,” he argued in what he hoped was a reasonable tone of voice. “Close to work, close to a park where I can walk Diefenbaker - you know, I didn’t come across many places that allowed animals when I was looking for an apartment.”
“Diefenbaker? That your dog?”
“Wolf, actually.”
Ray turned to look at Ben, who tried not to show his discomfort at Ray taking his eyes off the road.
“You own a wolf?”
“He’s half-wolf, really. As to the other half, I’m not entirely certain.”
Ray shook his head, giving a general indication of his disbelief.
“Benny, why am I just now finding out about your oddball tendencies?”
“Oddball?”
“I mean, the whole politeness thing I could understand at first. I thought, you know, he’s Canadian, it’s not really a big deal, nothing wrong with having manners even if you do end up being last in line for everything. But to suddenly find out you own a wolf, you spend your Friday nights reading about Robert Hofflebeck - “
“Richard Huelsenbeck.”
“ - and you live on West Racine? Benny, I gotta tell ya, I’m beginning to worry about you.”
Turning to the window to hide his surprise, Ben tried to analyse Ray’s voice for sarcasm or jest. It was often difficult to tell whether Ray’s complaints were sincere. Sometimes they came with enough of a smile that Ben knew immediately that no offense was meant, and if there was no smile then the lack of aggressive action on Ray’s part gave him away. But it was dangerous to assume that all Ray’s irritability was benign. Ben had seen him explode at students and staff when he was particularly stressed at work, and had himself caught the brunt of Ray’s anger on a couple of occasions when he had tried to intervene.
After an uncomfortable period of quiet, Ben prepared to speak again.
“While we’re on the subject, Ray, I’m beginning to wonder if perhaps I’m not dressed appropriately for a restaurant.” Certainly Ray looked much smarter than he in his dark grey suit and deep green high-neck sweater.
Ray turned his attention away from the road just long enough to give Ben’s appearance a cursory once-over.
“You’ll do. At least you ditched that suit you had on today. D’you get that thing second-hand or something?”
“Yes, Ray.”
“Seriously? That thing is déjà worn?”
“It was in perfectly good condition when I bought it, Ray. I see no reason why it should be inappropriate for work.”
“Well, I guess for librarians, the stuffy tweedy look is in right now.”
The lightly teasing tone had returned, and Ben wondered if perhaps it was some sort of game, if maybe Ray would continue griping as long as he continued defending himself.
“I wasn’t aware that a keen sense of couture was a requirement of the job.”
“Yeah, well, I think you’d look passable in just about anything, Benny. God, they could dress you up like a cowboy or somethin’ with the dumb hat and the stupid pants and half the women at work’d still be gossiping about you in the teachers’ lounge.”
“They really do that?”
Ray cast him a sideways glance, not bothering to hide his smirk.
“A word of advice. Stay away from Ms Rooke - she just got divorced and she’s on the rebound.”
“Oh.”
Suddenly keen to hide the flush he could feel in his cheeks, Ben turned back to the window.
They passed the rest of the journey to the restaurant with small talk about work and about other places in the city that Ray thought Ben might like to visit. He was feeling much more relaxed by the time they arrived, cheered by the warm, welcoming atmosphere of the restaurant.
There were other people already waiting to be seated: a middle-aged couple engaged in a conversation about the reliability of their babysitter, and a group of women chatting loudly about the office where they presumably worked. Ben smiled politely at the other patrons as he and Ray stood to one side. For a while he examined the menu that was displayed on the wall, not feeling comfortable continuing their conversation within earshot of perfect strangers. Curiously, many of the dishes on the menu did not appear to be authentic Chinese foods. Rather, they seemed comprised of common Western ingredients served in Chinese-style sauces. In a hushed voice, he pointed this out to Ray.
“Benny, we’re right in the middle Chinatown,” Ray hissed back. “You can’t get any more authentic than this.”
Before he could explain that the menu contained far too many red meat dishes than was truly representative of a typical Chinese diet, they were interrupted by one of the office women who had turned from her friends to lay a hand on Ben’s elbow.
“You know, we come here all the time and I’ve never seen you here before.”
She smiled up at him, her fingers brushing back and forth over the sleeve of his shirt. A little startled by her interruption, Ben found himself stuttering a little as he replied.
“No, this is my first visit,” he explained.
She stepped closer, standing between him and Ray. Her hand slid up to his bicep.
“Well, I’d be happy to recommend something from the menu. Why don’t you join us at our table?”
There was no mistaking the lascivious tone of her voice.
There weren’t many situations that Ben had not been trained to deal with. Unfortunately, this was one of them, and so far he still had not formed an effective way to extricate himself from the attentions of the kind of sexually aggressive women the city produced.
“Thank you, um, but I’m…I’m, uh…”
He looked over at Ray. The other man was glaring at the back of her head, clearly irritated at the way she had interrupted their conversation. He tapped her on the shoulder; when she turned and frowned at him, Ray gave her a smile.
“Hi. Ray Vecchio,” he announced, a little too brightly to be sincere. “If you’d like to join us at our table, I’m sure we could find room for you.”
She glanced between the two of them, eventually removing her hands from Ben’s arm.
“Maybe some other time,” she told Ben, “if you ever come back by yourself.”
Before he could respond, her group were led to their table, chattering and laughing loudly all the way. The woman glanced at him over her shoulder, looking him up and down. Ben’s eyes were drawn to the movement of her shoulder-blades, displayed so carelessly by the low cut of her dress. She was what Ben had come to think of as fashionably thin rather than toned from exercise, her bare skin on display for potential suitors and not to feel the benefit of the restaurant’s interior warmth.
It was downright bewildering, sometimes, the way sex was so casual in places like Chicago. What he’d learned to think of as a private expression of love or a necessary way of producing offspring was nothing more than a hobby here. Thinly veiled metaphors and innuendos peppered everyday conversation, and when he did not understand them it seemed some women were only too happy to explain in plain English. Sex was a marketing tool, a source of endless frustration, or simply a pleasant way to while away an evening, and he’d learned from overheard conversations between students that it was even a status symbol. No wonder, then, that girls like Hayley were so often in the kind of trouble that Ray had been so scared of.
Ray’s hand on his shoulder interrupted his thoughts. He remembered himself enough to stop staring after the group of women, and he and Ray moved to stand in the place they had just vacated.
“That happen to you a lot?” Ray’s voice was equal measures exasperation and amusement.
“More than I’d like,” he muttered.
The middle-aged couple were seated next, and they were left alone.
“She was a looker, though,” Ray continued, nodding toward the table where the group were sitting. “I guess I wouldn’t have blamed you entirely if you’d gone. You could have asked her for her number or something.”
He turned to Ray, positively shocked at the thought that Ray expected him to leave.
“I don’t even know her.”
“But wouldn’t you like to get to know her?” Ray’s eyebrows were raised in an expression of hope.
“I’m sure that, in different circumstances, we could enjoy a pleasant conversation.”
Ray looked back across at her, blatantly staring.
“Benny, I don’t think she’s the kind of girl who goes in for pleasant conversation.” Ben fixed him with a look of unabashed outrage until Ray raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, you’re not a one-night-stand kinda guy. I respect that. But you gotta put yourself out there if you don’t want to spend all your Friday nights at home reading with your wolf.”
He considered pointing out that he enjoyed spending Friday nights at home reading. Then again, he was enjoying this Friday night out with Ray, and since he’d spent lots of Friday nights at home and only one Friday night out since he’d arrived in Chicago, perhaps he ought to give going out more of a chance before he made a decision.
“I will endeavour to try, Ray,” he conceded. Ray looked pleased, so that seemed to be enough.
“I get the feeling they didn’t have much of a heavy social scene in your part of Canada, am I right?”
“Not like this.”
Ray looked thoughtful for a moment, then asked, “Which part of Canada is that, exactly?”
“I grew up in Inuvik,” he explained, “then we moved to Alert, and then to Tuktoyaktuk.”
“Your grandparents were travelling librarians?” It was said with a smile, as though Ray didn’t quite believe him.
“Yes, Ray.”
They were quiet for a moment, until Ray leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “You realise I have no idea where those places are?”
Ben fished his pen out from his pocket and began to look around for something on which he could write. When Ray realised what he was doing, he passed over one of the restaurant’s take-out menus. On the back there was enough space for Ben to draw a rough outline map of Canada. As an afterthought, he outlined the rest of North America too, to give an indication of scale. Then he marked on the places where he had lived and worked. Ray took the pen from him and marked Chicago on the map - technically he made a mark somewhere in the middle of Lake Michigan, but Ben decided not to correct him - and breathed a quiet “Wow” as he moved the pen between the ‘x’ that marked Inuvik and the ‘x’ for Chicago.
“You came all that way to be a high school librarian?”
“Not exactly.” He handed the menu to Ray, who folded it and slipped it into the inside pocket of his jacket.
Although he avoided eye contact, he could feel Ray studying him intently.
“You’re not gonna tell me why you moved.”
“No.”
A moment more of quiet.
“Okay.”
It was there, unspoken and silent but there between them. Ben could feel the weight of understanding as something shared between the two of them. He did not want to explain, and Ray would not ask. And because Ray would not ask, he knew that eventually he would explain.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
After three more Friday nights out and one Friday night in at Ray’s own house, Ben had reached the decision that going out definitely had its merits. When Tuesdays came around, he and Ray would make their weekend plans after class and Ben actually found himself wishing that Friday would come sooner. How quickly Ray had become central to his life in Chicago. Each weekly staff meeting gave him things he wanted to discuss with Ray, and each class that used the library gave him ideas he wanted to share with Ray. No matter that they seemed to disagree on so many of the school issues they talk about. Just the simple act of starting the conversation and having someone continue it until was a source of joy. They would start out debating the principal’s latest education initiative and somehow, half an hour later, would find themselves talking about the newest books in the library or what Ray’s mother had made for dinner the night before.
It spilled over into Ray’s Tuesday morning classes, and when they found themselves with only four students present one morning, Ray’s lesson plan was abandoned for the six of them to sit around a table to talk.
“Some virus going around,” Ray explained after the lesson had ended. “A couple of parents called the school this morning - Rosie and Tyler are gonna be absent for the rest of the week.”
“And the others?” Ben asked.
“Probably just taking advantage of it. Slightest little tickle in their throat and they’ll decide to stay off school. Well, maybe not Michael or Jake. Their parents, we wouldn’t really expect them to call in.” There was, for a moment, a touch of melancholy in his voice, then he breezed on. “But the others, I wouldn’t be surprised if they just decided not to come in today since so many other kids are out.”
“Do you have to report them if they’re playing truant?” They had moved to the counter, where Ben was sorting through the memos Lucy had left for him.
“If they didn’t come to school at all, then their homeroom teacher would’ve reported any absences. If they were in homeroom but not in my class then yeah, I’d report it. Not that it’d do any good.”
Ben knew from experience all about Ray’s frustrations with the school’s administrations, especially when it came to his twelve students. If Ray had something specific to complain about, he would. Otherwise it was generally best not to ask, unless they were away from the school and Ray could vent his anger without it spilling over into his work.
By the end of the day Ben had noticed a significant drop in the number of students using the library and heard reports from several other teachers about absences due to illness. Whatever virus was going around, he hoped it was nothing too serious.
He was collecting his jacket from the library office when Lucy stuck her head around the door.
“There was a message for you from the office - can you see Mr Vecchio in F-block before you leave?”
He thanked Lucy for the message and left her to her paperwork. Ben had visited F-block only once before, to deliver some library posters to another teacher. Strange that Ray would ask him to visit; they did all their planning in the library, and if Ray wanted to talk about anything else he would usually come to see Ben rather than send for him.
Walking down the hallway, Ben could easily see why students here became so de-motivated. Hairline cracks wound crazily across walls and ceilings, and scuff-marks showed where bored students had waited outside classrooms, kicking their feet. There were no displays on the walls here, no signs of achievement. Instead of the bright motivational posters that were pinned up around the rest of the school, the walls bore graffiti tags written in fat black marker, and the occasional dent or hole where a frustrated student had lashed out. It was thoroughly depressing.
Ben’s heart ached for them.
He found Ray sitting at the desk in his office. His jacket was draped across the desk, his briefcase on its side next to it. Ray motioned for Ben to sit down. He didn’t look up.
“We got a call from Stephanie’s parents this afternoon.” Ray’s voice was flat, empty.
“Is she ill too?”
Ray let out a long breath, rested his forearms on the desk and leaned over towards him but did not meet his eyes.
“She’s in the hospital.” Ben let his surprise and concern show but did not interrupt. “They thought at first that she’d OD’d, but now…now they think the stuff she took was…” Ray made a vague gesture with one hand. Ben understood. “She wouldn’t have OD’d on purpose. She was doing good, her parents said she was, said everything was…” He trailed off again and finally looked up at Ben.
Ben could find no words of solace that could possibly remove the hurt and the anger in those huge eyes. He simply stood and picked up Ray’s jacket and briefcase, holding them out for Ray. After a moment of hesitation, Ray stood and moved around the desk to take them.
They didn’t speak until they reached Ray’s car. When he paused to unlock the door, Ben rested a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sure the doctors are doing everything they can to help her.”
“I should have known.” Ben winced as Ray slammed one hand down on the car’s roof. “I thought, maybe, but I didn’t…” He ducked his head, drew a deep breath that seemed to catch a little in his throat.
“Would you have called her parents? Would you have said you thought their daughter was taking drugs again? After all her hard work, and theirs? And yours?”
He saw Ray’s eyes widen in fear at the thought of that conversation. Ben rubbed his hand over Ray’s shoulder.
“You helped her, Ray. Whatever happened was beyond your control.”
Knowing that Ray would still agonise over everything he could have done, Ben could offer nothing more than this gesture of friendship, and hope that Ray had the strength not to let this get the better of him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter six