Charade

Vic

I had to save you.

Those words, so clear and vivid in my mind, haunted my thoughts as I sat in a waiting chair in the police station. I spent the drive over planning what I needed to say to get Benjamin out of this mess. I was no lawyer, but I knew enough. I knew about what happened to runaways like Benjamin who had no proper home, and I knew what would happen to Benjamin if I didn't help him.

But now I was just waiting. Waiting for some policeman or woman to approach me and ask me why I was here and what my connection to Benjamin was. My whole plan was detailed and thought out. I knew word for word what I would say. So now all I had was the last thing Benjamin told me on the phone before he was arrested.

I had to save you.

Is that how Benjamin felt? Such a deep seed of loyalty towards me, even after all I'd done to him? Beating him, threatening him, digging up his past when it hurt him so. How on earth could anybody do this for me when I'd done nothing for them? When all I'd done was hurt them? It made no sense.

All I knew was Benjamin was in this mess because of me. If only I'd not been so foolish as to be distracted by a skimmer shattering on the sidewalk, I'd have noticed that cop coming from a mile away. But I didn't, and now Benjamin was here, about to possibly go to jail, and it was all my fault.

I looked up. Across from me, I spotted a woman. She was around my age, maybe a few years older, weeping into a handkerchief. Something about her looked painfully familiar. The pale blue eyes, the curve of her top lip. I'd seen it before, but where? Then it clicked.

Benjamin.

Of course. It must be his mother, I thought.

Of course they'd ring his parents. He was just arrested. It did lead me to wonder where his father was, but then a hand touched my shoulder before I could conjure up a single theory. A policewoman, around thirty five, with light blond hair tied back in a bun and a figure a few pounds over curvy, smiled down at me.

"Victor Langley?"

I nodded.

"My name is Officer Wickham. I'd like to speak with you about your involvement with Benjamin Forrester."

"Of course," I said, setting aside the magazine I hadn't been reading.

I followed the woman to her desk and sat in a chair facing her. She had deep blue eyes, almost navy blue, that never seemed to miss a thing.

"So, how do you know Benjamin?"

"We live together," I said.

"You live together?" She asked. "According to the landlord, it's just you and your daughter."

"Yes, well, Benjamin's move only happened recently. I have yet to inform Mr Clarkson."

"Right, and where did you meet Benjamin? What led you to agree to let him live with you?"

"I met him in Rundle Mall. We got to talking one day and he told me he was a homeless runaway."

"So you just... let him move in?"

"My god, no," I laughed. "But we became quite acquainted through his job at the newsagency. I'd go in to buy the paper every morning and we'd talk about things we had in common."

"Like?"

"We both love to read. He also loves art, like my daughter, and we'd discuss our favourite writers, favourite artists."

Truth be told, I had no idea if Benjamin liked reading, but I knew he loved art. All you had to do was look at him while we in that art store.

"Anyway, he told me he was having a hard time and I agreed to let him stay with me for a few days. I'm afraid to admit that I grew quite attached to him in those few days. He reminds me of my daughter in some ways and of myself in others. He's like the son I never had."

"And how long has Benjamin been living with you permanently?"

"Around three weeks. He's doing really well, officer. He is very dedicated to his job and is never late for his shifts. He's kept fed and warm and safe. He sleeps well every night. He helps out around the apartment by doing chores and keeping things tidy. He's even told me he wants to go back to school."

"Then why was he caught trying to install ATM skimmers?"

I sighed.

"Ma'am, Benjamin has been through a lot, especially during the last few months of his homelessness. He was a bit tight on money so he turned to some... alternate ways of making an income. That all stopped when he moved in, but then recently he felt his job was being threatened by a new employee at his work. I believe he was just doing the only thing he knew to do. He's just a kid. He was scared."

"Scared or not," Officer Wickham said, "Benjamin still committed a serious crime. We will have to hold him accountable to as much."

I nodded.

"Absolutely. But what will happen to him, officer?"

"Well, usually we would hold him here until his trial but I think I can manage to get him home detention instead."

"Oh, thank you," I said. "Really."

"But that's as far as my leniency goes, Mr Langley. As for what happens at the trial or what punishment is given, I don't know and I can't help."

"No, no, I understand completely. But I do have one question."

"And what is that?"

"Benjamin's parents... can they force him to go home? What power do they hold over him?"

"Hey, as far as I know, Benjamin is over sixteen, he's living with a responsible adult, he has a job and aside from this little hiccup, has been keeping his nose clean. They can't take him away from you. Don't worry. It's the trial that you should be concerned with."

I nodded and even found myself smiling. Maybe it wasn't over for Benjamin. Maybe I didn't just throw his life away.

Maybe it wasn't too late.

© A.G. Travers 2015