Benray

The firemen were standing around chatting and laughing in small groups, having taken off their helmets and heavy yellow coats, looking strangely off balance in their sooty, over sized pants and blue t shirts. They hung around the shade of the firetruck talking baseball, the oily water at their feet throwing off a fish scale rainbow, with Benray pacing nearby in front of the smoking hulk that was his car, hands covering his eyes in a martyr's pose and muttering loudly to himself. People were looking, they were streaming out of the Acme to find the nineteen year old kid who had just bagged their groceries with quavering water in his eyes walking around shaking his head like a Quaker, occasionally stopping stock still to punch the air and yell profanity. Usually Benray liked standing out, he had golden eyes and stilt legs, he bumped his bass up and bullshitted every girl he met, but this was embarrassing. He wished the firemen would turn off the red blinkers on top of their truck, it was like a klaxon calling the prayerful to worship at his stupidity. Benray looked at the naked guts of the engine, blackened to brittle and brimstone scorch marks licking all around the hood, he crossed his arms and stuck out a pouting lip far enough for a crow to land on. The firemen started mounting the truck and the oldest one who seemed to be in charge came over and clapped him on the shoulder. "Well son..." Benray dared him with his hardest look, knowing that no wisdom in the world would penetrate, and this man looked like his father except white. His father always wanted to share some philosophy that wasn't a bit of help and Benray just didn't want to hear it right then. The old man took his hand back in no hurry and showed a crooked smile. "Tough shit, kid."

For 17 years and 364 days his father had been reminding him that he wasn't an adult yet, and that he would respect the rules of his house, so on his 18th birthday Benray moved out. He borrowed some money from a friend and bought the car, a 1987 BMW M3, which was five years older than he was and had a blowing exhaust that sounded like a lawn mower running over a golf ball. Benray admired the stubbornness of the car, which always almost refused to kick over, he loved the aggressive stance and the stout wing at the back. It was cherry red, a color that broke his heart to see blistered with ugly welts. He gripped his cell phone like he was going to throw it, he thought about calling his father but he couldn't stand another lesson right now. His half brother worked on cars, he would know what to do.

"Maxroy? It's Benny."

"Bee. What's up man? You talked to Pop?" His older brother was always trying to put Benray and their father in touch.

"My car burnt up."

"What?"

"My car. Burnt. Up."

"What happened?"

Benray shook his phone like he was throttling his brother's neck, he was sure he was being willfully difficult not instantly understanding the pain this had caused. "I drove to work this morning and it smelled kinda funny, but it always does something funny, but it wasn't leakin' anything new underneath. Little later some blue hair comes into the store says she called 911 'cus some flashy car is on fire outside."

"It was your car?" Benray's hand tensed into a talon so sharp he cut his ear. "What do you need?"

"What can I do?"

"About what?"

"What d'you think, man! What can I do about my car, do you think you can fix it?"

"Benny, it burnt up."

"I know that, I seen it, everyone just loves to keep telling me my damn car burnt up, I dont need another person tellin' me that Maxroy. I need someone to tell me what I can do."

"It already caught fire, everything you could do is done, more than done, five steps after done. Like you're in results time, man. The car burnt up, that's the last thing that happens to a car. No one says 'my car was on fire last week but it's running pretty good now.' Just let it go."

He was crushed. "You don't understand."

"I understand you bought a 20 some year old car with a few hundred thousand miles on it and drove it around like it was new. C'mon, you cant be losin' that much money on it."

"I still owe money on it."

"Shit, don't tell dad that."

"You don't tell dad."

"I don't tell dad everything about you. You think that just because I'm grown up and moved out and not you that I don't occasionally get my ass chewed out by proxy for some shit you pull? Why do you think I'm always tellin' you to call him, so you can get at least a little of what's due before he tires himself out yelling at me. Call him, he'll feel sorry for you, the old man loves cars."

"He'll just tell me he was right."

"Jesus Christ, Benray, Wasn't he?"