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It's 2002.
Randy Bradley's only seven years old, but he knows the difference between the crisp mountain air of Utah and thick, swampy air of Louisiana. He can see the look of disgust in his mother's eyes when they emerge from the air conditioning of their family minivan and first set eyes on their modest ranch style home just blocks away from the power plant where Randy's dad found a better job than the one he'd had back home, but whether it's better or not would be up to debate for years to come as far as Randy's mother is concerned. Even as young as he is, he's grown hyper aware of his mother's moods and he learns to tend to them as well as his father does, dodging the worst of her while simultaneously trying to lure out the best of her.
It feels like spinning plates sometimes and he can see the pain in his father's eyes when his hand slips and one of those plates falls to shatter, but he sees how his father has learned to be okay with powerlessness.
Randy learns to be okay with it too.
-
The neighbor's daughter, Abigail, is about Randy's age. Randy's mother, perpetually frustrated by her son's inability to make friends, brings Randy over to meet the girl and they strike up a strained friendship that Randy knows is really only based on proximity. He can feel his mother's mood start to sour whenever he declines going out to play, so he just doesn't decline anymore. Instead, he takes his place with the girl's dolls and plushies as another character in her elaborate plays.
"Your parents are gonna get divorced," Abigail says as she watches through the front window where Randy's parents are clearly having their third argument of the day.
"You think?" Randy asks. He doesn't look up from the pink teacup she'd set out in front of them for the picnic she'd envisioned for today's play.
Sometimes he wishes his parents would get a divorce. Sometimes it feels like his dad does the same kind of pretending he does with Abigail.
"Yeah. Definitely," Abigail replies.
She's wrong, of course. A month later, Randy's mom and dad proudly announce he's got a little brother or sister on the way.
-
Benson is kind of exactly the sort of person Randy expects when he starts at Burgers Burgers Burgers. He's the kind of brash a person gets to be after suffering through years of other people, but he's mostly quiet in a way Randy's incredibly thankful for. He likes the invisible feeling Benson gives him because it gives him the chance to put his head down too so the two of them can get through the day in silent parallel.
He greets Benson in the morning, Benson grumbles out a mornin', he says goodnight to Benson and Benson grumbles out a 'night. It's sufficient as far as interactions go, but sometimes he imagines reaching out to Benson. Sometimes he thinks he and Benson could be friends.
It never feels right to think too deeply on, though, considering the way Benson looks away when Chris corners him with Jess on his heels to egg him on.
-
Abigail is in Randy's second grade class too when he starts at his new school, but it's pretty clear to him that her friend group of other girls takes precedence over the awkward friendship they'd forged over the summer. Randy would be lying if he said it didn't hurt seeing her avert her gaze when he's standing outside of the cafeteria line with his tray, looking for a place to sit. It makes him eye an empty table nearby, but he thinks about his mother's urging to at least try to make a friend and forces himself to sit with a small group of boys from his class instead.
"You're the new kid?" one of the boys asks, his mouth full of half-chewed tater tots.
"Yeah. I'm from Utah."
"Cool."
And that's it. It feels like he'd done some kind of mind trick to get accepted this easily into the group of boys, but they don't seem to see him as some kind of interloper. He realizes he's just another kid to them and the feeling of not being different for once is not lost on Randy. He's elated by it. It feels incredible to have a place to be where he has friends waiting for him, but it doesn't last.
Recounting the incident to the principal, his parents and the therapist dozens of times doesn't make it any easier, but the details start to fade in his mind over time. After it's all done and he's back in another second grade class, he remembers the way rage boiled in his chest. He remembers how his new friends remained silent as the punishment fell entirely on him. He remembers the way Miss Beard screamed. He remembers blood.
The worst part of it all is that he remembers the way Miss Beard returned to school just to wither away until she was gone forever. Randy understands then that the only life worth living is quiet and unobtrusive.
-
It might be psychosomatic or something, but moments after a couple bites of the moldy burger Chris forces on him one morning, Randy's stomach is already grumbling. He glances up at the clock on the wall and tries to focus on making it to his first break so he doesn't puke into the condiment bar. It's not the first time Chris has forced him to eat something disgusting and he's sure it won't be the last. That is, until Benson comes back in from his smoke break with a shotgun in his hands.
Chris, Hardy and Jess are gone within what feels like seconds and Benson turns to him, silently reloading his shotgun. Randy understands this is the end and it almost feels fitting for it to happen this way, but it doesn't stop the tears from falling and the full body shiver locking him in place. He understands he's next.
So. He waits to die.
-
Lisa moves to town in their junior year of high school. She's new and friendless just like Randy was years ago, but the best part is that she doesn't know what happened to him. Her ignorance of what's left him so fully broken leaves Randy sort of smitten with her and she's sweet enough to notice his crush and reciprocate without Randy having to be the one to ask her out.
Randy accepts, but it feels like starting a timer. At some point, someone will know and they'll tell her and she'll be gone too, but it doesn't happen. She stays with him. She holds his hand while they're walking through the hallways and kisses him on the cheek before they part for class. It's something sweet Randy never thought he'd have. She calls him every night to say goodnight too and Randy eagerly awaits the sweet, tired sound of her voice each night, but one night the call comes late and she's crying.
"It's Oreo," she sobs. "He's gone."
Randy doesn't know what to say. He struggles with it for a moment before settling on a soft, "I'm sorry," before going silent again.
Lisa's sobs go a little quieter and she just says, "I'm gonna go to bed," and hangs up.
Lisa looks like a wreck the next day at school, but she doesn't reach for Randy's hand in the hallway. She doesn't kiss him on the cheek either. She just ducks into 2nd period geometry and leaves Randy standing in the hall, wondering if he should've done more. He knows he should've done more when there's no call at night and he's left staring at his ceiling in the dark.
He sees her in the hall the next day with one of her friends hugging her before she wipes at her eyes and manages a slight smile and he understands in that moment that he can't console her so he shouldn't. Others will always do better than he ever could.
-
Benson doesn't kill him. Benson just drives until they're out of town and then out of Louisiana and then out of the south altogether. Benson doesn't kill him, but Randy does still find himself wondering if he did die and now he's just a ghost drifting at Benson's side as he makes his escape.
The obvious goal is the Canadian border and Brandy knows that there's a good chance they'll make it into Canada, but his anxiety flares when he thinks of what might be next. Benson doesn't seem as confident they'll make it because he chooses a motel not too far from the border to get some sleep before crossing over. Randy doesn't question it. He's appreciative of the extra night to think things over.
Randy can feel his anxiety reach its apex once they're in bed and he can tell Benson is already dozing. He's dreading the answers he'll get, but he rolls over and quietly murmurs Benson's name until Benson rolls towards him.
"What is it, Randy?" Benson sighs.
Randy can feel tears welling up in his eyes, but he forces himself to ask, "Why did you take me this far with you?"
"Dunno anymore," Benson mumbles.
Randy believes it. The look in Benson's eyes gives away immediately that he'd never really thought this far ahead. The biggest question plaguing Randy is something that had never entered his mind. He holds Benson's gaze for a long moment, trying to somehow decipher from his eyes why he'd never considered the obvious. No one in his life had ever wanted him around this long, but Benson did. He obviously does.
"You must have needed me," Randy says.
He knows he's right when Benson's eyes soften just slightly. For the first time in a long time, Randy makes a decision. He shifts closer to Benson in the bed and Benson pulls him into a slow, deep kiss that leaves Randy's nerves crackling with electricity. He chases after Benson's lips when the kiss ends and Benson chuckles against his lips before kissing him again.
He releases the fistful of Benson's shirt he had in his hand and can feel Benson's heart fluttering when he lays his hand flat on his chest.
-
It's Christmas Eve and a small tree is $35 at the grocery store in town. The string of lights and a sleeve of silver and gold plastic ornaments come to about $20 at the Dollarama across the parking lot. It's the majority of Randy's meager pocket money from working under the table at the diner in town, but once he's got the sparse little tree sitting next to him on the curb as he waits for Benson to pick him up, it feels like money well spent. It feels like Christmas is coming and for once, he doesn't dread it like he used to. He doesn't even dread the attitude Benson's sure to give him about it once he gets there.
As expected, the first words out of Benson's mouth once he rolls up to the curb and Randy gets inside are: "Is that a fuckin' Christmas tree?"
"Yeah," Randy huffs, pulling off his gloves to warm his hands in front of the air vents in Benson's car, "I wanted one. We don't have to do gifts or anything, but.. I just wanted one."
Randy expects a long rant from Benson about Christmas being some kind of corporate bullshit holiday and Randy just fell into the scam of it all and wasted 50 bucks, but instead, he shrugs and pulls off from the curb to head home. He knows Benson's holding back on one of his tirades for his benefit and it floods Randy's chest with warmth for him. He only realizes he's smiling at Benson when Benson glances at him and smiles too.
"What are you grinnin' about now?" Benson asks with a chuckle.
"You're excited about Christmas too."
Benson shrugs again, but he's still smiling. "Could be a good one."
-
When Randy had the rare indulgent daydream of true freedom when he was lying in his bed back in Louisiana, it was usually sailing a boat across the ocean. Just him in the huge expanse of water, looking at nothing but empty horizon in all directions and knowing he was fully in control of where to steer the boat. He thought of navigating by the soft glow of stars at night, but now in the softer glow of the cheap Christmas lights on their tiny Christmas tree, those thoughts feel like they came from a different version of himself.