Ben

“Ben, the two of us need look no more,” I sing softly under my breath, knowing that he’ll hear me. “Ben, we both found what we’re looking for!” I use the Michael Jackson classic now as I always did: to placate Ben, the fidgety monster sitting next to me.

* * *

Nine weeks ago I, Sean Keenan, flew into Melbourne, Australia, to meet the love of my Internet life. We’d be en chatting online for over a year, and had proclaimed love for each other for just under a year. I knew it was risky and foolhardy to give my heart away to someone I’d never met in real life, however I felt such a strong connection to Terri that I imagined I knew her better than most of the people in my real life.

* * *

As I look in the window I am seated next to, my ghostly reflection can be clearly seen overlaying the passing scenery. I am a ginger; a term we use in the UK to describe someone with red hair. The sun is setting into the horizon of Port Philip Bay, and the fiery red sky is illuminating my ghostly red-haired reflection.

* * *

Terri lived in a suburb of Melbourne called St. Kilda. The morning after my arrival of two months ago, I sprang out of the hotel bed and spruced myself up. I looked quite dapper, even if I do say so myself.

I left the hotel and waited at the tram stop for the next Number 96 St. Kilda tram, as we’d planned to meet at one of the bakeries on Acland St. Apparently the treats available on Acland St. are worth the journey across the planet in themselves, even without the prospect of meeting the girl of your dreams.

The tram arrived, and in the giddy schoolboy way that people in the early stages of love do, I memorised the tram number and what seat I sat in.

* * *

Today I’m sitting on the same seat and in the same tram. I am certain of this fact. “Isn’t this exciting Ben!” I mutter, speaking so softly that no other passenger could possibly overhear me and think I was talking to myself. “Reliving the ride we met on!”

* * *

Two months ago, the tram ride had started out horrifically. Near the Crown Casino a female passenger boarded the tram. She was obviously well known to the regular commuters, as over half the passengers on the tram disembarked. I caught a few mumbled comments, including “catch the next tram if you know what’s good fer ya!” and “don’t make eye contact!”

I watched the new passenger out of the corner of my eye as she sat opposite another female passenger on the other side of the tram. The tram had barely started moving when the new passenger cried out “What’re you lookin’ at?” and launched herself at the passenger opposite her, punching at the poor defenceless woman in a clawing and scratching frenzy. I sat rooted to my seat, totally shocked by the turn of events. Luckily other passengers had more presence of mind about them than I did, and one of them pressed the emergency stop button while others fought to contain the raging woman.

* * *

Remembering the attack today, I’m constantly on the lookout for the poor woman with the belligerent personality disorder lest she board this tram again. I had discovered that her name is Rhonda, and I feel sorry for her but also fear her. I can’t conceive of ever “gettin’ used ter it” like the locals of two months ago had said they were.

* * *

After Rhonda had been taken away for her regular “one night of observation” and the tram was underway again, I tried to summon up the excitement of the journey again and the reason for it; meeting Terri. By the time the tram turned down Fitzroy St., my heartbeat had returned to normal and the adrenalin had nearly worked it’s way out of my system. That’s when I first saw Ben.

I was sitting in my seat and staring out my window, observing the mix of humanity that St. Kilda hosted. There were beggars and drug addicts. There were drug dealers and prostitutes, all of whom seemed to be doing a roaring trade despite the early hour of the day. There were business people and elegantly dressed socialites sidestepping around the beggars and prostitutes. There were elderly people shuffling along; studiously ignoring the beggars, drug dealers, and prostitutes that had taken over the neighbourhood they’d lived in for so many decades.

One prostitute in particular caught my attention. She looked just like any other hooker in her torn fishnet stockings, high heels, and revealing blouse. She did have one distinguishing feature however; there was a seven-foot tall monstrosity with her. It was trying to keep in front of her and draw her attention as she paced back and forth on her corner. The monstrosity appeared to be yelling at her and waving its arms right in front of her face, yet the prostitute was seemingly oblivious to its presence.

* * *

Turning my head to the left, I look at Ben with a smile on my face and contentment in my eyes. Despite the fact that he was nearly seven feet tall, he had been trying to attract the prostitute’s attention without any luck. In actuality he had been trying to attract attention for as long as he could remember. He smiles back at me, a bit more at ease and less fidgety. As long as I pay attention to him and speak to him softly under my breath, he will not get anxious and seek ways to capture my attention.

* * *

Thinking I was seeing a piece of street theatre, I watched the horrific monster berate the hooker as the scene moved from the window next to my seat into the window behind me. Passing from my window to the next, the monster disappeared and the hooker was just another bored prostitute waving her tits at passing cars. Surprised, I learned forward and looked back at the hooker through my window again and was amazed to see the tall monstrosity waving his arms and yelling at her.

I must have gasped loudly, because the monster looked up in shock and made eye contact with me. He started loping after the tram, easily catching it with his long legs. I leaned back and looked out of the window behind me; there was no sign of the advancing monster. I leaned forward and looked out of my window again, just in time to see the monster leap up at my window, pass through the glass as though it wasn’t there, and end up in a gasping heap at my feet.

Looking around, it was fairly obvious that nobody else on the tram had seen what I just saw. There were no screams. There was no stampede to the exit doors. Nobody pulled the emergency stop cord. So either nobody else could see the panting exhausted monster, or else they were so used to it that they just ignored it. There weren’t even any reactions to my gasping or lifting my feet off the floor as the monster hit the deck.

* * *

“Ben, the two of us need look no more,” I croon softly to the monster sitting calmly beside me today. I continue to keep him calm with soft soothing singing and friendly smiles as I remember our last eight weeks together.

* * *

Deciding that the other passengers were on to a good thing, I played their game and ignored the monster. It was difficult, as his rotten stench attacked my sense of smell just as vividly as his horrific fangs and gnarled horns assaulted my sense of sight.

“You saw me!” he yelled at me, as I pretended to look past him.

Don’t make eye contact flashed through my head.

“You saw me!” he repeated, getting closer to my face. His breath could have downed an elephant in mere seconds. I gasped and looked him in the eye, which was the only acknowledgement he needed. In what was probably the most surreal thing to happen so far, this vision of hell did a joyous happy dance.

“Hey!” he cried, stopping his dance and sticking his monstrously deformed claw out towards me. “My name is Ben.”

I looked him in the eye, and then furtively cast my eyes about at the other passengers on the tram.

“Oh I get it!” he bellowed. “You don’t want those meatheads to think you’re nuts! No problem. I can talk enough for the both of us.”

For the next ten minutes as the tram wound it’s way down Fitzroy St. and along Acland St., I listened to Ben’s life story; or least as much of it as he could piece together. If I appeared to be ignoring him too much he would make a scene until I made eye contact, acknowledging that I could still see and hear him. My mind whirled so much that I couldn’t even pick out one entire cohesive thought.

Eventually one thought rose to the top of the quagmire that was my brain; Terri! I was to be meeting her shortly, and the last thing I needed was a chatty hideous monster that only I could see, hear, or smell hanging around. I struggled to collect my thoughts, and decided I needed to talk to Ben. I stepped off the tram at the second last stop and quickly dashed into an alley. I had arranged to meet Terri at the last stop.

“You have to leave me alone now!” I said harshly, whirling on Ben as he followed me into the alley. His face melted into a sad grotesque mask that tugged at my heartstrings.

“I need some time,” I said more softly, trying not to hurt his feelings. “I’m going to meet a friend and can’t have you distracting me.”

Ben’s face lit up again.

“Where’s your friend?” he asked.

Leaning my head out into the street, I spied Terri waiting at the next tram stop. My heart soared at my first real life glimpse of her blonde hair. “There she is,” I said, pointing her out to Ben.

“After you see her, we’ll spend some time together?” he asked, arching his eyebrows at me.

“Sure,” I said resignedly, “as soon as I see her we can talk.”

Without another word, Ben loped off in Terri’s direction. He overtook the tram we had just stepped off and reached Terri. Looking back at me, he stood next to Terri and pointed down at the top of her head. I nodded to indicate that she was indeed my date, expecting Ben to accept that I would spend some time with him after I’d spent some time with her. To my horror, Ben grabbed Terri by her arm and started dragging her roughly toward me.

“NO!” I bellowed, taking off at a sprint.

Ben dragged Terri twenty metres or more as though she were a rag doll. The whole time Terri kicked and screamed, trying to fight off her invisible assailant. When he drew level with the advancing tram and just before he reached me, he tossed Terri in front of the tram. The tram driver tried to stop, however he didn’t stop in time and careened over Terri. Her screams stopped, and her body came apart into several pieces.

The tram driver burst out of the tram and vomited profusely. Passengers and pedestrians started screaming. I stood there silently: dumbstruck with shock and horror. Ben bounded over with a grin on his face.

“You saw her!” he said. He took my arm gently, looping his arm through mine like a lover would, and led me off for a stroll along the beach.

* * *

Sitting here today on the tram that ended Terri’s life reinforces my resolve; I have to rid myself of Ben. I don’t care what the newspapers reported; the tram didn’t kill Terri, Ben did. I turn to Ben and cast another brilliant smile in his direction.

“Ben, the two of us need look no more,” I sing softly, feeling the soothing effect it has wash over him. I pray that he’s still clueless about the plan I’ve formulated in my head over the last two months.

* * *

Sick with fear and shock, I could see no way of escaping Ben. He came back to my hotel where he bathed and shampooed every inch of his long body. He used my toothbrush to scrub every fang until they gleamed. He enjoyed being able to interact with the real world.

We reached a tacit agreement where in public he had to accept that I couldn’t talk to him or acknowledge him openly, or else I’d be taken from him and locked away where he couldn’t get to me. I told myself the most likely diagnosis would be schizophrenia.

The next two months passed like a dreamscape, where time sometimes flew and sometimes crawled. Two Mormons were slaughtered in front of me, merely because they had the audacity to interrupt and greet me when Ben was talking at me in the street. One memorable lady with a delightful South African accent had her neck broken merely for asking if I had the time to answer a few questions, as she was conducting a survey for her University paper.

A few days later I saw her photo on a pamphlet in the laundrette, with the caption “MISSING”. I gave Ben a curious look, and pointed at the photo. He glanced at her, shrugged, and said, “A monster’s gotta eat.”

Terri’s death had been pronounced as “Suicide”. There was little sympathy for the Mormons when their deaths were reported in the papers as being due to an animal attack. After a few more violent deaths, I quickly learned not to acknowledge another person or smile at anyone. If my attention was diverted from Ben, even momentarily, people died.

* * *

“Ben, the two of us need look no more,” I coo softly under my breath. I make eye contact briefly with him and smile, making sure he’s calm and at ease. I’d started singing this song to Ben at the Crown Casino Cinemas, simply to distract him from slaughtering an usher who’d shown me to my seat and elicited a smile from me for his kindness.

I never lacked for money, as Ben kept me in cash. I never dared ask where he got the cash. There was only one thing that I knew for certain: I could never go home to my loved ones in Ireland while Ben was around!

Reflecting on all this as I look out the very window through which Ben had entered my life, I take a look at my desperate plan from all angles. There are risks, but they are worth it. Now all I have to do is summon up the courage to execute the plan.

Over the last eight weeks I’ve learned three things that are vital to my plan: Ben can pass through glass as if it weren’t there, Ben has only been able to interact with the real world since he came into my life, and Ben will slaughter anyone I show interest in, without the slightest hesitation.

At that moment the tram turned onto Fitzroy St., and the perfect situation arose to put my plan into action. There she was, like a gift from The Universe: Rhonda. She stood at the tram stop, waiting to step onboard when the tram stopped.

The success of my plan depended solely on three assumptions I’ve made. It also required me to put someone in danger. The very thought of deliberately placing someone in danger was nearly enough to make me cancel my plan; even someone as hard to like as Rhonda is.

The first assumption is that the pane of glass in the window I’m seated next to is somehow different and special. It’s the pane of glass through which Ben entered my life. I wait a few seconds until Rhonda is in view through the window next to me.

“Ben,” I say softly as I point at Rhonda, “I just saw my amazing friend Rhonda! I’m going to spend the rest of the day with her.” I feel a ball of cold fear in the pit of my stomach as I point out Rhonda to the murderous sociopath that considers me his one and only true friend. I nearly ruin my own plan and point out the wrong window; I’m so nervous!

The second assumption is that once he passes through that pane of glass, he’ll once again be unable to interact with the physical world.

Ben steps through the pane of glass next to me and stalks off briskly to where Rhonda is standing, his head full of rage and jealousy. My heart soars! I watch as he pulls ahead of the tram and reaches Rhonda, and then I rejoice silently as his arms pass straight through her. Ben looks at me with realisation dawning in his eyes. Fear and anger quickly follow. He leaps back toward the tram.

I stop watching Ben. It takes a very difficult and deliberate act, but I manage to tear my eyes off him and look out of a window on the other side of the tram. If I can’t see him, then he can’t come back through that window and into my life. That’s the last assumption in my desperate plan.

The seven foot tall monstrosity may at this very moment be causing a scene right in front of me. He may be waving his arms wildly and screaming at me, but I can no longer see or hear him. I sit with my back to the special pane of glass, and quite deliberately avoid even a quick glance in that direction.

Slowly the tram meanders down Fitzroy St. and turns onto Acland St. I step off at the first stop, head into a bakery and order Terri’s favourite treat, then walk to the St. Kilda Pier to watch the sunset.

I make a quick phone call to an Internet associate. He specialises in unusual assignments. His motto is “Any job done - No questions asked”. I arrange for every pane of glass in that tram to be destroyed, making it appear as though it were the work of vandals.

As the sun dips below the horizon, I allow myself to cry for the first time in two months.

Copyright © Brett Kiellerop September 2009. All Rights Reserved.