Ben Expectin

I like to think my story’s a romantic one. I mean, it does involve love, in a sense. Most of y’all will probably not see it that way which makes my heart sad, but it’s to be expected. People don’t usually never see eye to eye, ‘specially when it comes to love. It’s probably why she left me in the first place. Beautiful Darlene, my angelic spouse. I couldn’t never hurt her like she did me. Yes sir, it pained me an awful lot when I found out she was gone. I mean, stuff like that don’t usually happen outside the soaps, you know what I’m saying? When the devil reaches your house and gets to unloadin’ a cartful of bad luck in your front yard, you usually ain’t expectin’ it ‘cause stuff like that only happens to other people. Other people, not you.
I ‘member the day I come in from feeding the animals and find the note. The note. Sounds so omniscience, or ominous, can never figure out which means which. It had rested on the kitchen table next to the vase in the middle filled with them flowers that ain’t never gonna wilt. Other than the writing on it, paper itself was plain white. It’d looked kind’ve eerie, almost like it’d put itself there. ‘Sides the note, rest of the kitchen seemed normal, like she’d cooked and cleaned ‘fore she left. Found out later she’d whipped up a couple of flapjacks and a few strips of bacon and left them in the fridge ‘fore she went packing. Awful thoughtful of her. She always was thoughtful though. Anyways, I walked up to that piece of paper real careful, looking ‘round the kitchen ‘fore picking it up. You see, that’s one of them reasons I thought I loved her. It’s like I could… sense when all weren’t pleasant up in her head. I knew somethin’ was wrong alright, but I ain’t never expect this:

Ben,
I’m just writing to let you know I’m gone, so don’t go expecting me home no time soon. I’m sorry things had to be like this, but there’s things I want to do with my life that can’t involve you. This don’t mean I don’t love you. You’ll always be my Big Ben. I just can’t be with you right now. I’m sorry.
Darlene

I ain’t never understood why people always write “I’m sorry” in letters like that. Even on the soaps, they always do that. Like it’d make any difference. Like it’s even true. I mean, they know they ain’t sorry. If they was, they wouldn’t a left in the first place. I stared at that note for a minute, stared at them words, stared at that crazy handwriting, like she’d written it in a hurry. Ain’t really have time to think ‘bout how sorry she was or not, ‘cause I’d suddenly begun to have trouble breathing. ‘Fore I knew it, I was in our bedroom, opening closets, slamming drawers, whole time bawling like a whooped child. I ain’t believe it, couldn’t believe it. Even when I opened them drawers, checked our closet, and ain’t found not one blouse or panty or right foot of a pair of heels, I still ain’t believe it. Refused to, matter of fact. So I thought I’d wait. I cried like a newborn baby, sat my rear end in that rocking chair on the front porch, and waited. You see, can’t nobody tell me I ain’t know what love was, ‘cause I done watched them soaps before, and I ain’t never before seen nobody wait on somebody who’d run out on ‘em. Usually took ‘em a couple hours to find somebody else and go on with they lives.
Days passed by, and I kept on waiting. I tell you, only times I got up out that chair were to piss, shit, get the mail from George, the mailman, and feed them damned animals. Otherwise, I just sat and waited. Passed time during the day by drawing. Ain’t really do it ‘cause I liked it, more ‘cause Darlene’d liked it. Figured if she ever came back, I’d have a couple drawings ready for her. I cried some times, but only when night came down and I wandered if she was stuck somewhere, hurt. We had a lot of trees ‘round here, and my Ford was still parked which meant she’d gone on foot. Them days turned to weeks, and my backside began to get mighty tender from all that sitting ‘round and waiting. Took to usin’ one of Darlene’s sofa pillows as a cushion. Figured I’d handle the talking my ears’d get for sitting on one of her “fine throw pillows” if it meant I’d have her back.
One day, ‘bout three and a half weeks after I found the note, I gave up. Happened ‘round midday, ‘bout an hour after my most recent toilet break. I was sitting in my usual spot on the rocking chair, doing a drawing of a man standing with his back to his own reflection. I was in the middle of doing a couple of fine finishing’s on the piece, when I felt my eyes well up with tears. I ain’t know what was happening at first; wasn’t nighttime yet, so I ain’t had no reason to be afraid for Darlene. When them tears kept pushing they way out my eyes, I finally saw that the little part of me that had got to sitting in this damned rocking chair for over three weeks had just gave up. I weren’t fooling nobody but myself. Darlene wasn’t coming back, and realizing this, all hell broke loose in my head. I tell you, was like a dam exploded under my eyelids. Boy, I cried and cried like I ain’t never cried before. It was one of them pathetic cries too; the ones that leave you all red eyed and short of breath, sniffling like you got the flu. When I’d let out enough water to fill a bucket, I got up out my seat and walked inside the house, straight to our bedroom… my bedroom. I lay there for what felt like days but was probably only a couple of hours, and stared at the ceiling with my mouth half open like somebody on drugs. I started to think ‘bout them soaps again, and how I ain’t never seen nobody messed up like this over they wife splitting, one more reason why I must’ve really loved her. I thought ‘bout her ‘til I finally fell asleep.
The next day, my stomach’d finally gotten my attention and let me know that it ain’t had very much for a couple of weeks now. I ain’t never really been a great chef, Darlene cooked most everything in the house, but I ‘member thinking I’d be able to make something decent enough to fill my belly. Walking into the kitchen, I pulled some ground beef out the refrigerator and went to the cupboard to get some salt when something caught my eye. Couldn’t put a pin on it at first, and I spent a fair amount of time staring at the counter under the open cupboard door with one a them “what the heck was that” looks on my mug. Took me a while to notice the stack of papers that was on the counter, pushed up ‘gainst the wall. Papers themselves weren’t unusual; been there forever as far as I was concerned. Mostly junk we’d (or I) never had the chance to throw out. What had caught my attention was the piece of paper on top of the stack; one a them small pieces of paper with flower decorations at the top and a line of that sticky glue stuff on the back so people can leave notes stuck to your wall. The handwriting looked familiar, not ‘cause of the way the letters looked, but more ‘cause the way the words was spaced. Yup, I’d seen it ‘fore alright. You’ll always be my Big Ben… If my memory served me correct, I not only thought that this paper wasn’t supposed to be here, but also that this weren’t the same paper I’d picked up off of my dinner table three weeks earlier. That note’d been on plain white paper. I hurried into my room and walked up to our… my dresser. I picked up the note and compared it to the other note. They was exactly the same. I’m talking ‘bout from the rushed handwriting to the words themselves, them notes were the same.
I had to swallow this, roll it ‘round for a bit ‘fore trying to figure out how to handle the situation. After thinking, I realized that Darlene’d probably written the other note first and misplaced it. When she ain’t find it, she’d given up and just written another one. Pretty much explained everything, so I let it go and went back to the kitchen to prepare my meal. I ain’t really know what I was planning on cooking; never really mattered ‘cause I never got past preparing the damned thing.
I always had been clumsy by nature. Ain’t very hard to trip over nothing hen your feet are as big as mine. But, when there was objects lying ‘round making it harder for me to put one foot in front the other, I usually ended up on my rear. This time weren’t no different. One minute I’m reaching for some ground beef, the next I’m lifting myself up off the ground with a busted lip and a bruised knee. I sat on the floor rubbing my joints and looking ‘round for the cause of my fall, and that’s when I noticed my floorboard. Funny how I ain’t never noticed it ‘til this point. Seemed so obvious afterwards. I realized somebody’d dug my floorboards out, then put them back mighty hurriedly. My temper got to flaring right ‘bout then, mostly ‘cause my granddaddy’d built this house from the floor up and it infuriated me to think that somebody’d be trying to mess it up like that. That’s when I got to thinking, I mean really thinking. Why’d somebody come all the way to my house to dig up my floorboards? Unless… they was trying to hide something. I could’ve bet my life then there was probably something under my kitchen floor, but I ain’t know if I wanted to find out what it was. After some thought, I decided it was my duty to find out what was under my house.
I got some tools and started to pull out some of them floorboards. When I finally looked at the damage, I was a bit confused. All I saw was dirt and stone. I was ‘bout to give up and just put the boards back when I saw something. Somehow, there was a little piece of plastic sticking up from the dirt. This weren’t like them plastic toys you buy for your young. It was more like that plastic wrap Darlene’d wrap my sandwiches in ‘fore I went fishing.
I bent down and pulled the wrap, and found out there was more under the dirt. I ain’t really know what it was, but I figured I’d find out. Wasn’t nothing gonna be buried under my house ‘less I knew ‘bout it. So I started to dig with my hands. I ain’t even realize what I’d been digging ‘til I was damn near done. When I finally looked at my findings, I got that feeling in my stomach. I tell you now, you ain’t never felt uncomfortable, I mean real uncomfortable, ‘til you felt your stomach drop past your ass. I mean, in a way, I was glad, ‘cause deep down I’d always been expectin’ to see her again. I saw my mother’s wedding ring in the dirt, the one I’d given Darlene when I’d asked her to marry me. Pulling at it, I found out it was still on her finger. I also found out her finger weren’t connected to her body no more. Matter of fact, looking ‘round, a lot of her weren’t connected to her body no more. Funny how you don’t start to remember stuff ‘til it’s too late. I remembered a couple things, like the screams, seeing her limp body, that coppery smell of fresh blood, how the machete felt in my hand. I remembered scribbling a couple of words on a blank piece of paper too. I remembered a lot of things then as I slowly stood up and stepped out the hole I’d made in my floor. I stared into it, not really thinkin’ ‘bout nothin’ in particular, just letting my mind wander. When I’d wondered enough, I made a quick decision. Have to say, I was proud of myself then. Never was the type to be quick to the draw, but I’d a plan almost right away in this situation.
I picked up them floorboards and got to puttin’ them back. Most of y’all probably think I was delirious at this point, but I weren’t. Matter fact, I think this was the most non-delirious moment of my life. You see, that was the moment I decided to forget. I told y’all, I’d watched them soaps ‘fore, and I knew them people ain’t really know what love was. I did. You can’t be in love and ‘member all I ‘member. So I kept on putting my floorboards back, and kept on forgettin’. Soon, I was whistling a song, one of them classic tunes by Marty Robbins. Don’t ‘member exactly what he called it; think it was ‘bout the Alamo. He’s another one must’ve known that real life ain’t like the soaps. I ain’t never seen nothing happen in the soaps that reminded me of a Marty Robbins song. Marty Robbins always was depressing though, so I guarantee the song I was humming weren’t too pleasant. Weren’t going to ruin my mood though. I went to my room, took a couple of scraps of paper off our dresser and went back into the kitchen. I put one a them on the dinner table and threw the other in the trash. After that, I cooked up some flapjacks and a few strips of bacon and stuck ‘em in the refrigerator for supper. Them animals was hungry, and it weren’t good to leave ‘em like that for long, lest they get rowdy and mess the place up. I walked outside towards the barn, whistling the same damn tune I’d done gotten stuck in my head now. Don’t you hate when that happens? I looked up at the sky and smiled. It was a beautiful day, and my happiness was in full swing. Hell, what I ain’t have to be happy ‘bout? I had a lovely wife, a nice house and farm, and good health. Life’s great.
You see, I think people should be able to choose what to believe or not, ‘specially if it’ll help them keep they head straight. When you love someone, you’ll believe anything and tell all types of stories. Long as the endings romantic. I like to think my story’s a romantic one. I mean, it does involve love, in a sense. Most of y’all will probably not see it this way, which makes my heart sad, but it’s to be expected. People don’t usually never see eye to eye, ‘specially when it comes to love. It’s probably why she left me in the first place. Beautiful Darlene, my angelic spouse. I couldn’t never hurt her like she did me…