Page 58 of Naked Coffee Guy
I wasn’t here when he died. After all of this, all the nights I stayed, the days I checked his status in between appointments—after all of it, I had failed him in the end.
I open my hand, revealing a folded piece of paper with my name on it. I’ve seen Hattie’s handwriting on Benji’s charts long enough to recognize it as hers. Sure enough, when I open it, a note from her is on the top followed by the rest.
This note was dictated to Hattie Wilson on May 23, 2023, by Benjamin Wright when he was of sound mind and good spirits.
Dear Malcolm,
If you are reading this letter, it is because I’ve left this world for the next, wherever that might be. I realize a letter like this is poor timing, because the things I want to express are things I should have said a long time ago. Even now, the coward in me is waiting until my death to share how I feel about you. The only word I can think of is Pride. I am proud of you. You came to me at your lowest point in life. What you don’t know is that I was also at my lowest point. I’d made several business decisions that cost me dearly. My wife left soon after, seeing the writing on the wall. When you walked into my house, I didn’t see a thief, but an opportunity. And thus, I treated you that way every day since.
What I never told you was how much I cared for you. You see, while I was saving you, you were saving me too. You were there as everyone else left my life. Even now, when you have every right to walk away, you have stayed. I take this knowledge with me to the grave. I gave you everything I could to ensure your safety, but I never gave you the acceptance you needed to excel in life. I never gave you the love I know you needed more than anything at all.
I love you, Malcolm. You, and Brock too, were like sons to me. I just didn’t know how to be a father. But somehow, in spite of me, you learned how to be a man. I couldn’t be prouder.
Your friend in death,
Benji
I wipe the tears streaming down my face, tucking the letter into my jacket pocket. By the date, it was written almost a month ago. Part of me glowers at this realization, that he had ample time to tell me these words. The other part feels like a piece of resentment has chipped away, leaving room for healing.
On the table is another folded letter addressed to Brock, and I can’t help wondering what he had to say to him. But I leave it alone. I don’t want anything to get in the way of what the old man told me, including any words he had for his other “son.”
I take Benji’s hand in mine—his joints are already stiff, his skin cold to the touch—but I hold it, letting the iciness penetrate the warmth of my own hand.
“I’ve thought about what I was going to say when we finally reached this point,” I utter into the stillness of the room. “For years, I have felt indebted to you, like there was no way I could ever repay you for what you’ve done for me. All I wanted…” My voice breaks, and I look away. It’s hitting me how final all of this is, and the way I’m feeling is unlike anything I expected. “All I wanted was your acceptance,” I finish, “Everything I did was for you. Even when I quit the apartments, my plan was to make enough money to get you out of this mess. But by the time I did, you…you were dying, and it was too late. The only thing I could do was clean up your mess so that your legacy wouldn’t be tarnished.”
I let go of Benji’s hand, then pace the floor in front of his bed. The note seems to be burning a hole in my pocket, and it almost makes me want to swallow the words I’m about to say. But I don’t.
“Thank you for leaving me something kind to remember you by,” I finally say, stopping as I pat my pocket, “I take your words to heart, and I believe you meant them. But it doesn’t take away the fact that since I entered your home, my role has been to be the crutch you needed while everything around you crumbled. I thought you were raising me to be successful, but really you were grooming me to be your champion, and damn, I’ve done a good job. I’ve been the perfect codependent, making sure you always had the appearance of perfection. No one noticed the kid who was doing the work of the staff you fired. It took a long time for anyone to notice your manipulations, and that’s only because you lent me out like my services were a free gift. I did it because this—” I slam my hand against my chest pocket. “This is all I ever wanted to hear from you. Even when I paid off your tenant to drop the lawsuit, and when I urged you to sign the apartments over to me, it was all for you.
“Well, I’m done cleaning up your messes. Now that you’re gone, everything you’ve worked for is gone, including your name. I cannot let you pass from this world into the next without being held accountable for your actions. The only condolence I can offer is that you aren’t here to face the full repercussions for your actions, and there’s a big chance I will. But for those families, I will do what’s right, even if that means exposing health issues they may not even know they have, and that their living situation was the reason for it.”
I take a deep breath, holding it as I study my benefactor one last time. Then, when my lungs feel like they’re about to burst, I let the air out slowly.
This is the end. And I am done.
Chapter Twenty-One
Maren
Three weeks. That’s how long it’s been since I last saw Mac. Not that I’m counting. Not that I’m looking out my window every morning, hoping to see a glimpse of him.
Not that I care.
“You ruined it for all of us, you know.” Nina, my empathetic roommate, bumps into me on her way to get coffee while I pretend I haven’t been standing at the window for a half hour. “All you have to do is go beg him to take you back. Is that asking too much? Because those of us who haven’t been getting it on the reg would like to see a little ab action again.”
I haven’t told Nina everything about Mac, like how he once knew me before he was hot and rich, or how he was actually brothers with my fuck buddy, or how he stopped me from giving up seven years of sobriety, or the hurt look in his eyes when he knew it was over.
I also didn’t tell her about the lawsuit, because as mad as I am at him, I don’t need Nina to feed the rumor mill and paint him as a slumlord.
But I did tell her how he not only sold the building, but he also owned it, thus making him the one who kicked all of us out with practically no notice. And for that, Nina should be on my side. After all, it’s why I’m here, encroaching on her space.
However, Nina’s allegiance lies with Mac’s sculpted abs. But judging by my morning station at the window, the way I watch the door at Insomniacs, how many times I’ve come close to calling him or stopping at Benji’s house, it appears I’m on Mac’s side too.
I won’t cave though. All it takes is thinking of how he covered up the mold issue, or how sick Molly’s son had been. How sick I had been without even knowing it. He covered all of this up instead of just dealing with it, and then he gave us thirty days to find a new place, knowing full well none of us would ever find anything in that price range.
No, Mac and I don’t belong together. His world is too different from mine. He has no idea what it’s like to skip a meal because there is literally nothing to eat. He doesn’t know what it’s like to turn on the lights and nothing happens because the electric bill hasn’t been paid. He’s never had to sleep in his car with a screwdriver in his hand in case anyone wants to rob him, rape him, or kill him.
He has no idea about the impossibility of finding a new place to live in just thirty days when every other apartment is almost double what we were paying. Yes, we were all lucky to live in a place with such low rent. But when the floor dropped out from under us, we were all screwed.