Benjamin Braddock

He held the phone receiver against his ear with his shoulder as he dug for change.  He looked at the thin scraps of paper in his palm and dropped them to the floor.  He put two coins in the phone and the remaining in his pocket where he felt the tip of the folded letter.  He didn’t have to pull it out to know what it was.  He read it many times since he received it from his mother two weeks ago.  Why did she even mention Grace?  She must have known that he wouldn’t have been able to think about anything else if she mentioned Grace, so why did she?  And of all things, why did she have to tell him that Grace was getting married?  That’s why he was carrying the letter.  He put it in his pocket after having read it once more that morning.  He already knew that today was her wedding date but he had to relive the torture by reading it over again.

“Irv is that you?” a voice he recognized as Steve’s asked over the line.

“Yeah, I’m here.  It’s all set. I’m going.”

“Well hurry, the priest is already here.”

“Jesus Christ, I thought I would have had more time.”

“I’ll see what I can do but you better fucking hurry!”  And with that Irving hung up the phone and picked up his tote.  He ran out into the rain to the idling car he paid a local kid to guard.  He had a little trouble popping the clutch, he rarely drove stick shift and wasn’t very good at it.  It wasn’t his car.  He fishtailed in the mud a bit before backing off the gas and letting the wheels gain traction.  This was the second afternoon rain and it’d last for about an hour.  It’d rain at least one more time before day’s end.   

“You never listen to me,”  he could hear her say.  She was always telling him that.  He thought he was listening.  He never thought they had any problems but he knew that maybe that is what she was getting at.  He never noticed when he made her unhappy.  He didn’t like making her unhappy.  He remembered when he went out and bought her a kitten when her cat had gotten run-over by a hot-rodding teen.  He thought he was fixing the problem but instead she got angry that he could be so insensitive to think that her Perrywinkle could just be replaced.  Boy, had he played that hand all wrong.

He reached in the glove box for a cassette tape.  There were few tapes he could play, most of them were in Spanish.  He put in the tape deck The Best of Simon And Garfunkle.  The irony that Mrs. Robinson came on didn’t escape him.  He could picture Ben Braddock running into the church banging on the window, ruining the wedding.  He then picture himself doing the same and an uneasy feeling came over him.  Was he capable of doing such a thing?  He knew that he couldn't love someone the way he loved Grace but could she love someone else more than him?  Sure she was getting married but he knew she was still in love with him.

He slowed to a stop as the rain poured down a bit harder.  A couple of men were trying to lead an ox off the road. but the soft ground made the animal hesitant to move further down the sloping path.

“Come on you fucking beast, move your ass.” he said aloud.  The men waved him by and he maneuvered around them, partially driving up along the side of the hill.  He drove as fast as he could trying not to slide off the road with its many curves and hairpins.  He kept his eyes half on the road and half on the clock.  He had about 30 minutes to go before he finally got there.  Could this get any worse, he thought.  What a shitty day this was turning out to be.  If he didn’t get there in time he didn’t know what he’d do.  He’d freak out for sure, probably even cry.  This isn’t something that most people are prepared for.

All the while counting down the kilometers he had left to drive he thought of Grace.  He imagined himself running into that church and yelling “I do,” when the priest asked if anyone knew of any reasons why these two should not wed.  He wondered how he’d do it.  Would he burst in like a mad man yelling for the wedding to stop or would he sit in the back and wait for his moment to arise?  How would Grace react to him?  Would he read signs of relief on her face ?  Or would he see that vein in the middle of her forehead bulge and her jaw clench?   The prospect of her not being relieved to see him gave him a bout of nausea.  He’d pull over and vomit if it wasn’t for the fact that he was pressed for time.  

Up and down the the road the car went, as he traversed one side of the mountain to the next, deeper and deeper into the thick rural plantations he drove.  He turned the radio off when Sounds of Silence began to play.  It became a nuisance.  The rain had finally stopped and the sun began to shine through the parting clouds.  He sped up, hoping to catch up on lost time.  He could see the hospital down the cobble road as he made it into town,. He zig-zagged between the young men, done with the day’s pick, pushing wheel-barrels heaping with white coffee beans. They waved to him and smiled a little less so than they did on the first day his group arrived. On that day there were greeted as liberators.

When he got to the church, he drove around back to the hospital, added on years before by philanthropists from the United States.  When he slammed on the breaks, he slid into the wall.  He was wearing his seat belt but still managed to hit hid head against, the windshield.  The nuns came running out to see if he was okay. He opened the door and rolled out onto the floor.  

“Aw fuck.”  He said, wincing.  

“Are you okay?” one of the nuns asked in broken English.

“Yeah, I’m fine,”  he said pulling himself up on the car door.  He reached in and grabbed his tote.  “I’ve got it sisters, I’ve got it.”  He said as he quickly made his way inside.

“Irving,” Steve said, “you’re finally back.”

“Yeah,” he said, “I’ve got the meds.”

“Irving this is Padre Delgado.” Steve said to Irving.  Irving looked over to see balding priest who looked as if he were blind.  “He delivered that last rites about an hour ago when I got off the phone with you.  It’s too late.  Why don’t you have a seat?”