Eve of Repentance

New York City

12/24/1928

Ritzy piano fills the halls of Benjamin’s mansion with a bombastic tune of Jingle Bells. As the exquisitely tailored host himself peers from the top of his staircase upon the sea of glimmering acquaintances, prancing with drinks in hand, Benjamin M. Kent thinks how thankful he was to be in here rather than in the unrelenting Christmas Eve cold. How gracious was he to invite so many to this party on such a harsh night. How lucky was he to carry such distinguished company, Benjamin told himself, coming down the stairs to join the ruckus. 

The guests don’t pay mind to Benjamin’s entrance to the bottom floor. After some fruitless pushing in the crowd, Benjamin shouts out, “One and all, one and all! Your host’s attention, if you’d grant it!” Most everyone stops to turn, with a few gleeful, chuckling folks in the far corners of the mansion filling their gullets with a different kind of “Noel” cheer. “I appreciate the fun aura that you are granting my establishment, do not mistake me, but I, your gracious host, am trying to reach my own kitchen at the moment!” The crowd around Benjamin gives the kind of laugh that you don’t really want to give, but do, to carry the moment as much as it is able to be.

“If you all’d properly excuse me to get by, I’ll acquire an even bigger place to horse around more of you all next Christmas!” With that, the mansion surges back to life. The people close around are mindful of Benjamin’s approach to the kitchen that lay a couple steps away from him. 

Benjamin steps in the kitchen to see his mutual partner and estate broker, Jim Bell making himself a fruit cocktail. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Bell!” Benjamin proclaims. Bell gives a hearty chuckle and raises a glass to him. 

“Don’t wear out my name, Ben.” Benjamin placed himself next to Bell by a counter.

“Does Amelia know you’re here?” 

Bell gives a scoff. “That broad doesn’t know where I am anymore.” Benjamin gave a half-hearted laugh in response. Bell nods with genuine impressment. This was Bell’s first time at one of Benjamin’s esteemed mansion gatherings, despite knowing him for four years. “You’ve got quite the parade here.”

“Somebody broke my chandelier last year.” 

“Oh, charming! How did they manage that?”

“Poor drunk bastard found his way to my staircase; just fell from it.”

“Hope the replacement wasn’t a hassle.”

“No, of course not.” 

Bell took a swig of his cocktail and gave an oozing sigh of wealthy ecstasy.

“Oh, what a miraculous time to be alive, I tell you.”

“Yes…indeed.”

“God bless America.” Bell hiccups abruptly, putting a hand to his mouth with a surprised giggle. “Excuse me.”

“Don’t bother, most everyone is the same way now.” 

“I’m surprised you still partake in this sort of gathering, considering…hic”

“You’re never too old to grant yourself pleasure, Bell.”

“Heh, hell yeah. I know damn well this is what I’ll be doing.”

“Well, you will have plenty of years ahead to enjoy it.”

“God bless you, sir Hoover!” Bell raises his glass above him. “You glorious son of a bitch!”

“Look…Bell, why don’t you…give me some space here?”

“As you wish.” Bell walks away from Benjamin, raising his cocktail high above, spilling most of its content either side of him. “Merry Christmas! God…hic…bless!” 

Benjamin gives an exasperated sigh, resting his arms back against the counter to take all of the luxurious chaos in. Amidst the familiar glimmers and spoils of the holiday that Benjamin had grown so used to and took solace in, a feeling festers in his head. 

It has been there a while, though Benjamin believed it a headache brought about by all his drinking. Yet there he stands sober on this night, as clean as he had been for the past two months, with the feeling still hovering. Perhaps this detachment is just a symptom of aging, Benjamin thinks. He has simply been in this world too long to feel much about these pleasantries anymore.

Benjamin had been one of quite a few Americans of his time who prospered, unlike anywhere else on Earth. Thanks to his parents before him allowing for such a start, that he grew with a successful career as a lawyer and doubling that growth with a rapidly growing bootlegging gig, he ran while most others jogged through life. Not only did he run, but he ran with all the material comforts any normal person would pray for, especially around this season.

Benjamin now feels that he understands this feeling that he had come to develop. After so much time of such living, it was all numb to him. I need something else, something bigger, Benjamin tells himself. I’ve done this same thing time and time again with none of my old gusto. 

Starting next year, I will start a new venture, Benjamin decided. Perhaps he could get into the railway business, get involved with Wall Street, or join Bell in real estate, although he wishes to not work anywhere near him.

That is all Benjamin needed. A chance to reinvigorate the thrills of his past successes. With such distress quelled by this explanation, Benjamin started to pour himself some whiskey on ice to get more into the evening’s festivities. 

As he finishes making his drink, turning back to the party to take a sip, he spots a peculiar figure sitting at the only empty table downstairs at the far end of the game room. Benjamin does not recognize this individual, at least not from their dress. They wore a tall, all black trench coat with a black top hat adorning their head. 

They do not seem to be doing anything at all but sitting there, almost expectantly as if they were waiting for someone to come. Although he had kicked out plenty of unwelcome guests at parties before, Benjamin feels a weird reluctance to approach this person. It was the kind of wild trepidation that a child feels going into a dark basement, or approaching a wild animal. However, this was Benjamin’s mansion, and only those he allowed in were welcome. Benjamin sets his drink down and makes his way downstairs to the dark dressed figure.

Benjamin shoves until he reaches the figure, tapping slow at the table with one finger. Upon getting close to the stranger, Benjamin sees that they are also wearing dark boots with long black leather gloves on their hands. A shining, silver cane also rests to the side of them. 

Benjamin clears his throat, takes a lengthy pause, and tells the figure, “Pardon, fellow.”

The table tapping stops. The figure turns their head with an inhuman slowness up at Benjamin. Benjamin can’t see the figure’s face, as the top hat and collars of the coat seem to obscure it in a weird darkness. 

“Are you…in the wrong part of town?” 

The figure shakes its head with stiffness. 

Benjamin swallowed hard, though he did not know why. “I do not believe I…invited you to this party of mine.” Benjamin waited for the figure to say or do anything other than stare at him. Though the figure made no change of movement. Benjamin again cleared his throat. “What is your name?”

The dark figure raised a hand slowly, pointing towards the empty chair in front of them. Benjamin backed up a step. 

“I..I asked for your name, fellow.”

The figure drops their arm steady back on the table. Then a strong, piercing, cold gust blows Benjamin to the side as the chair slides in from behind him. Suddenly, against his will, Benjamin finds himself seated across from this strange dark figure. Benjamin looks around the room, wondering why no one is noticing this individual or seems to pay mind to the situation. 

Benjamin finds his hand shaking like it never had. The hairs on Benjamin’s arms raised as the black hollowness of the figure stared back at him. Benjamin tried to remain stern.

“Fellow, when someone asks you for a name ...you provide it….” The figure again raises its arm, this time, pointing to the stairs Benjamin came down earlier. Benjamin ignores the gesture. 

“Fellow, look here. I do not recall you. Please get up and leave the premises.” 

The figure drops its arm down, but instead of placing it on the table, it moves it down to the side at a deliberate pace. 

“What…what are you…” 

The stranger’s gloved hand reaches for the silver cane in no hurry, as if it were a calculated maneuver. 

Benjamin starts to fear the worst from this stranger. The shaking of his hand was spreading to the rest of his body. 

“God damn it, listen to me! Get out! I’ll call the cops!” The figure pays no heed to the cries of Benjamin as its slim fingers wrap slow around the cane, and begins to raise it up. “Fellow! Are you deaf? Please leave! I don’t want you here! You’re not welcome!” The figure holds the cane up by the side of them, the silver top[, a bird’s head, facing up towards Benjamin. The bottom rested on the floor. 

Benjamin rises up out of the chair fast. 

“Now, now.”

A familiar, impossible voice meets Benjamin’s ears. It takes him aback a moment before it speaks again.

“Is that any way for a man to be, my young chap?”

Benjamin turns slow, not wishing to believe that whoever this sounded like was actually there. Yet, to his disbelieving eyes, his father was indeed standing by him, with a lit cigar in hand. It was the same as the last time he had remembered seeing him, with his favorite blue button up suit, grey pants and his green tie with white stripes. 

“D…D….Dad? How…”

“Please, you’re not a petulant boy anymore! Call me Mister Kent, like everyone else.”

“You’re….you’ve been…”

“You better sit down, young chap, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!” His father gave a hard chuckle before letting out a harsh cough. Benjamin collapses onto the chair and puts a hand to his head. 

“What was in…but I haven’t drank…or…smoked anything…how…”

“It’s a shame you never took that up. Always did good by me.” His father takes a good puff of his cigar and blows smoke to his side. 

Benjamin was paying no attention to his father’s words from how in shock, confusion, and horror he was in seeing his old man casually standing before him. 

“How the hell…are you….”

“Chap, how have things been?” 

Benjamin takes a moment to be silent before mustering the mental fortitude to speak to his father. 

“I…have…things are good, dad. As was expected.”

“Damn it, chap! All this time and you still don’t listen to me! Call me Mister Kent.”

“I’m sorry…Mister Kent.”

“Much better. Now, you say things are good? Is the business you’ve managed healthy? Are you carrying on my life’s work of hard profit?” 

“Yes, da….Mister Kent. I have.”

“Ah, good, good. Glad to see you didn’t let me down, chap.”

“Of course…that is all you ever wanted.” 

The father coughs after another puff. 

“Beg your pardon, chap?” 

“I said, after all, this is what you wanted.”

“Why, chap, it’s what you needed! I gave you the dream, the living of a king, you had to carry it on.” 

Benjamin sits silent and lets it hang in the air. 

“Chap, you ought to be thankful that I raised you with such an ambition. Few men ever strive for such a life!” 

“You never spoke of much else.”

“Being a father is a laborious task. To prepare your pride and joy for the world is a burden not many can carry. Judging by your comfort, I take it that my job was well done.”

“That’s it, isn’t it? Your job. Not mine.” 

Benjamin’s father drops his cigar and looks straight into his son’s eyes.

“What are you saying, chap?”

“The dream….the riches, the business, the life, it was all you, Dad.”

“It’s Mister Kent.” The father stepped forward and leaned his face over into Benjamin’s.

“I should have known that you would be too weak to handle all this. I give you a golden door and you trip over it. I thought you’d be proud of this.”

“I thought…I hoped I would be too, Dad.” 

Benjamin’s father slams his hand into the table next to him.

“Mister Kent!” Benjamin went quiet as his father composed himself. 

“Chap, I think it’s time you came back to me.”

“Mister Kent, you’re dead. You have been for…God, twelve years now.”

“You have grown arrogant to what you have, chap. What you have earned. Wealth and recognition that so many scavenge for.”

“No one talks about you anymore. No one even knows who you are.” Benjamin’s father gives no mind to this fact. 

“If you really want to leave this dream behind, then come back with me, chap.” 

The dark figure turns its cane head methodically to face Benjamin’s father. 

“I expected more. Alas, always an eager sheep, never the bold shepherd.”

“Dad, I…I wish that we…”

“Benny…?”

A tiny, shaking, feminine voice haunts Benjamin’s ears. 

Before him, Benjamin sees his 11 year old sister, Maven, standing where his father once did. 

Maven wore a pink nightgown. It was just as she was the night she succumbed to typhoid fever in her sleep. 

Benjamin feels a tear come down his cheek, then on the other. Before long, tears decorate his face. He held his quivering mouth with one hand.

“Benny…why are you crying?” 

Benjamin, convulsing with pain, pushes his chair back away from Maven without a word. Maven takes a step towards Benjamin, with an innocent face of concern for her older brother.

“Benny, are you okay?”

Benjamin manages just violent head shakes as Maven extends her arms out for him.

“Benny, I missed you. I missed you so much.”

“No…stay…stay away…I…you can’t be…here…you’re…”

“Benny…I was hurt. I hurt so much. Why weren’t you with me?”

Benjamin knows exactly why, though he dared not utter it to her. The horrible wails of agony she let out. The wretched smell of her as she lay wasting away in bed. The horrible paleness of her skin. Benjamin could not bear a moment. As awful as it now seemed to him, at the time, he was happy that she was gone. Was this penance for how he treated her? 

“Please go away….”

“Benny….don’t cry…come play with me again…” 

A tear starts to fall down Maven’s face. Benjamin collapses backward off his chair as Maven takes another step towards him.

“You do not have to hurt like me….just come play….”

“God…go…go away….please….” 

The figure once again turns the bird head of their cane to face Maven. 

“Benny…I…I miss you…come play…” 

Benjamin closes his eyes. 

“Whatever I did to deserve this…please…I’m sorry…just make it stop…please…I’ll do…I’ll do anything….God please….stop….stop…” 

Benjamin lays on the floor on the verge of more tears.

“Benjamin, get up. Wipe those tears from your eyes.”

Benjamin feels his heart stop for a moment. His breath grows heavy. He looks up from the floor.

“Mo…mom?”

A woman of fair grace, brown eyes, a modest blue skirt, a necklace of green, and striking red hair stood in front of Benjamin, the spitting image of his mother, dead 5 years now.

Benjamin gets up, quick, to his feet. He gives a tight embrace to his mom, letting all of his fear out onto her shoulder.

“Oh, Benjamin. There’s no need to be upset, sweetheart.”

Benjamin wipes his face as clean as he could, but the love and joy overwhelmed him as all the memories of his mom’s unwavering devotion cluttered his head.  

“Mom...I…I can’t believe you’re here.”

“It’s been too long, Benjamin.”

“Mom…you…you left me…why are you…and dad…and…”

“Shh….we’re here to help you, Benjamin. All of us are.” 

“With…with what?”

“Your time is here, Benjamin. You need to let go.” 

Benjamin shakes. Tears continue to flood his eyes. He can hardly get his thoughts out.

“Mom…I….I don’t know if I…I can…”

“Few people can, sweetheart. I know it’s unfair…I know you wish so much could be done again…your father did too.”

“He was…he didn’t…he was so…”

“Shh ...your father talked big, said he was proud of himself. At the end, his face said it all to me.”

“Mom…I’m…I am so sorry….”

Benjamin’s mother put a hand over her heart.

“No, no…we…we were unfair to you. I’m sorry I didn’t see…didn’t bother to understand what you truly wanted for yourself.” 

Benjamin starts to breathe quick and hard.

“Sweetheart…baby, listen to me…there’s nothing more you can do now. You deserved better and we should’ve been the same for you.”

Benjamin starts to feel himself on the brink of collapsing onto the floor. His legs feel uneasy and his heart races too fast for him to remain steady.

“Sweetheart…take my hand. You need to rest.”

Benjamin sees his mother with her hand outstretched. Next to her, his father and Maven. Death stands far behind them. 

Benjamin, now just wanting to be with them again, takes her hand. They all walk together up the stairs to Benjamin’s quarters, with Death following behind. 

The tortured family approach the door at the end of the hall, nobody seeming to realize their presence, going straight through into the room. 

Death stands just outside for a brief moment. Death taps their cane once to the floor.

Just then, Benjamin M. Kent falls limp as Death fades away.