The Trade-Off

Benjamin killed the car engine in the middle of the motel parking lot. It was deserted.

He trod the weathered tarmac toward the motel’s grey reception door but paused a moment later. He glanced back toward the car, toward the back door. His son had been standing near there the last time he saw him.

A security light cast yellow into the night but only made the night’s damp haze and pathetic rain all the more hazy and pathetic. Benjamin could feel the wetness on his cheeks just as he could feel the nip of cold. Yet sniffing the fading scent of exhaust fumes which reminded him of the trip that brought him here, he wasn’t sure if such measly rain could have made his cheeks quite as wet as they were.

“Benjamin!” The warm voice of his brother called him into the motel. “Man, it’s good to see you. Have you come from the party?”

Benjamin shook his head and sank into the plastic-covered sofa that shared the tiny room with a reception desk and a coffee table.

“Oh, stand up a moment. Hand me your jacket. I’ll turn the heating up,” Alec said.

Benjamin silently followed his brother’s wishes. He then stood waiting while his brother fiddled with the radiator.

“Business not so good?” he asked as Alec returned to his seat behind the reception desk. Benjamin sank into the sofa again.

“Not so good, but you … that’s not why you’re here.”

Benjamin shrugged. Alec always said that. He could always tell.

“Coffee … while we talk?” Alec asked.

Benjamin shook his head and after a moment of silence said, “I got a job.”

“You’ve never had trouble getting jobs.”

“A big one. Good money. That kind of job’s been harder to find.”

Alec nodded.

“High gain, but high risk,” Benjamin said.

“Risk?”

“The guy wanted to trade his shares differently. He’d taken a nasty hit a few months back. Studied the market ever since. Obsessive guy. If you go back and trade your shares differently, you can’t always know you’ll make a big enough profit to justify all those hours studying.”

“But he thought he could?”

“He was ready to take a bigger risk than some.”

Alec smiled knowingly. “It was percentage pay then.”

“Yep. I’d get half.”

“Of?”

“Four.”

“Thousand?”

“Four million.”

Alec whistled, leaning back in his chair. “That’s your retirement, man.”

“But if we failed—nothing.”

“Of course. Did he show you the trades he had planned?”

“Yep. He had as good a chance as anyone. He’d chosen the safest trades … that could get him that size of reward.”

“When’s the job?”

“It was this afternoon.”

“Oh …”

“His memento was ready. He’d ordered the same pizza he’d had for lunch on the day he traded those shares. I was ready. You know, hand on his forehead.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“He took a bite. It pulled the memory of the day back into his mind. Everything was working. Our telepathic link was strong, and I took him back into the memory, back to the day of the trade.”

“But for all the planning … your best shot didn’t make the profit?”

“He made the different trades. He did everything right. But we broke even.”

“People think recollectionism can fix anything. I guess that’s why it’s called magic.”

“Two million. I could’ve done with that money.”

Alec moved from his chair and perched on the reception desk, legs dangling, head hanging a little. “Well …”

Benjamin fingered the front page of the single magazine on the coffee table. “I splashed out on his party.”

“Sorry?”

“Dylan’s party. You asked if I’d come from his party.”

Alec nodded.

“It was the full works. Bouncy castle. Magician—the normal kind—bunnies and wands. Enough cake to feed an army of his friends.”

“That’d make a happy boy.”

Benjamin shut his eyes. He couldn’t remember the look on Dylan’s face as his little frame stood near the back door of the car as Benjamin drove off. “Does it make a happy boy?”

“Well, didn’t it? You … you came here from the party?”

“I wasn’t there. I left for the job just before lunch.”

“Oh, Benjamin!”

“Don’t ‘Oh, Benjamin’ me!”

Alec had walked round the front of the reception desk, but now he sat back atop it. He didn’t hang his head this time. He just set his gaze on his brother.

“Two million, Alec,” Benjamin said. “That’s big parties every year.”

“Benjamin, it’s only money.”

“You think I just wanted the money? I’m not shallow!” Benjamin shouted.

“Benjamin—”

“No, I’m sorry Alec. I shouldn’t have. Please forgi—”

“No need.” Alec waved his hand toward his brother.

“But I did want the time. It’s not shallow to go take a risk with all the weight of fatherhood on your shoulders. I wanted to do the job that would let me have all day, every day with my kids. Retirement.”

“You’re not shallow, Benjamin.”

“But I am foolish!” With the force of his words, Benjamin rocked forward before tumbling back into the plasticated sofa. For a while, the only sound was the crinkle of plastic and the squeak of the old desk under Alec’s weight.

 Benjamin’s phone pinged. “It’s Tasha.”

“Yes?”

Benjamin read his wife’s message. He could hear the words spoken with her voice: without a hint of malice. No, as he handed his phone to Alec, he knew he had to read between the lines.

“He bounced on the castle with his mum. And he said he bounced quite high.” Benjamin highlighted the words as Alec read them. “Quite high.” Benjamin forced softness into his voice. “Yes …” but his voice grew dull again, “… but Daddy bounces me very high.”

“Benjamin!”

Benjamin shrugged. He knew he bounced Dylan very high. The look on Dylan’s face soaring above the bouncy castle was something he was proud of.

“I tried really hard this morning,” Benjamin said, slipping from the briefest smile back into his sombre expression.

“You always do.” 

“This morning—birthday morning—I tried to be the dad he always deserved.”

“And I know he loved every minute of it.”

“He did. I could tell. Smiles. But not just smiles. You can tell. There’s an air about happy children.” Benjamin’s smile lasted a little longer this time.

But when it faded again, his frown sunk deeper. He leant forward, resting on the lip of the sofa. Alec shifted from the reception desk to perch on the coffee table. Their eyes stared at each other. Sympathy in Alec’s. Discomfort in Benjamin’s.

“I never thought about him after I left,” he said.

“Who? Dylan?”

Benjamin blinked, quelling a tear. He pressed his nails into his palms. “On the job. Never thought about him.” Benjamin sniffed suddenly. “After the job. I’ve thought about nobody else.”

“Benjamin, what else would anyone expect?”

“A hug,” Benjamin whispered.

Alec leaned closer.

“Just that.”

Alec frowned. “A …”

“A goodbye.”

“What?”

Benjamin stood abruptly. “Out the front of the house. They were all there. Tasha. Amy. George.” Benjamin strode the couple steps across the tiny reception. “I hugged each one. Little kiss. Each cheek.” He sniffed suddenly. “Except Dylan’s. I looked at my watch. I had to rush. He wasn’t there to say goodbye. He’d wandered away. Round the car. I panicked, looking for him. Why’d he walk off? Of course, I was leaving on his birthday! But why? Why’d he walk off? Why’d I go?”

Benjamin leant against the wall beneath a naked lightbulb that swung stiffly.

Alec stood in front of him in silence. 

“As I drove off,” Benjamin whispered, “I saw him standing near the back door of the car. I saw him in the mirror.”

Alec reclined against the wall to his brother’s side.

“No goodbye.” Benjamin sighed. “He didn’t want to tell me goodbye.”

A couple moths strove toward the naked lightbulb. Benjamin simply watched them. They landed on the bulb’s surface and became perfectly still, like the night.

Benjamin checked his watch. It was past Dylan’s bedtime. He could go home now without having to talk to him until the morning.

“I’ll head off,” he said, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Alec nodded, and he looked like he wanted to say something—looked like he was struggling for words. After a few seconds, Benjamin retracted his hand and walked toward the door, extracting his jacket from a nearby hook. He knew the futile kindness of his brother’s unspoken words already.

The yellow security light ushered Benjamin back out into the damp night. He drifted toward his car, turning up his jacket collar. The air smelled fresh, like it should after rain. Was that a good thing? Such a perfect smell intertwined with such an imperfect memory.

Benjamin made his way toward the driver’s door but found himself drawn toward the back door. He wanted to stand where Dylan had stood. He wanted to stand there for a moment—just a moment.

Breathing deeply, he lingered in his son’s footsteps and pulled out his keys. He unlocked the door and the interior lights lit up … and he saw something. He flung the back door wide and picked up Teddy, Dylan’s favourite bear. He’d never let Teddy out of his sight before. He’d slept with him every night.

“Alec!” Benjamin hollered.

Alec came running, stopping on the other side of the car. Benjamin looked expectantly at his brother. Though, he wasn’t sure what he expected.

Inch by inch, a smile spread across Alec’s face. “Look, man, he made the way back for you.”

Benjamin looked from Teddy to Alec. “I love you.” He read the white lettering on the love heart sown onto Teddy’s chest. “He walked round the car to put …”

“To call you home!” Alec rested his elbows on the roof of the car and grinned. “He didn’t blame you for going. And you shouldn’t either. But he’s also bringing you home.”

“You mean?”

“Yes!”

“He’s sleeping without Teddy.”

“Then go!”

“What?”

“Go, go, go now! I bet he wants you to tuck him in!”

Benjamin nodded, realising what was happening. “He made the way. He’s given me my second chance. Before I needed it. He’d done it already!”

Alec nodded vigorously. “GO!”

Benjamin lifted the bear and embraced it. It sprung the memory back into his mind—the memory of Dylan standing at the back door of the car. A memory he now knew was the memory of the moment Dylan saved his dad. Benjamin reached out with his recollectionism, reaching into the past, to the moment when he left. 

He slammed his foot against the brake. His car stopped with a jolt at the end of the driveway. Dylan was there. Benjamin could see him.

He threw his car door open and ran toward his son.