Chapter X: Great Escape

The month of July was coming to a close. I sifted through my closet as I attempted to pack a bag for the escape I was about to embark on. The first few days we would be driving through Oregon, visiting clients in different cities across the state. What my plan was for afterwards? A big question mark. I put in a few work dresses and heels into my bag, unsure of what to grab next.

I had no plans, hotel reservations or anything for the remaining three days that my co-pilot and I would be traveling across the vast western wilderness; exploring and searching for an adventure.

I wasn’t sure what to expect. From the trip, from Ben, or from myself.

All I knew was that I needed to get out of Chicago. I needed to gain a new perspective. I needed to forget about the sickening reality that had swallowed my life and I whole.

***

There was always something about California that drew me in. I knew I had to get down to the sleepy, little town where my soul lived; where the air smelled of sea salt and the Monterey cypress trees grew out of the cliffs. Like crude brush strokes in a painting, her trunks grew out of impossible rock formations; thriving and reaching their odd, alien-like branches towards the sun. Against all odds she thrived; growing and conquering the rock. Fighting against the elements in a world where she wouldn’t usually exist, yet somehow, she persevered.

We lived in the foothills of Carmel Valley when I was a young child. I was shy back then; spending most of my days daydreaming and living in my own magical, ethereal world. I was not seven years old when we left the valley to head back to the Midwest; however, it left its mark on me and calls to me often during times of struggle and reevaluation. Once I arrived, I thought, I would know what to do next.

***

Tuesday, July 24th, 2018

Ben left town in the morning. He had some other meetings to attend to in Portland before I needed to be out there, so I booked the later flight alone.

After what seemed like hours at Midway, I finally boarded the plane. I got to my seat, set my head against the window and let out a big sigh. I enabled the Southwest wifi, pulling up my Spotify playlist titled, “Fuck You,” and letting it shuffle. I took off my sweater, clumping it into a ball and putting it in between my head and the side of the plane. I shut my eyes trying to sleep, but instead lost in all the thoughts going through my mind.

I looked at my phone. A text from Ben appeared.

“When you get into Portland, Uber to the Starbucks in Lake Oswego-I’ll pick you up there.”

A rush of nervous adrenaline overtook me. All in a matter of months, Ben and I had become so close; cosmically forced into each other’s lives; more than we ever could have anticipated. A self-fulfilling prophecy of my ex; so scared and intimidated by Ben that he took fatal, vengeful action; ultimately thrusting Ben and I into a deeper friendship at his expense. I cringed knowing what my ex might do or say knowing the friendship we had forged. But, the truth is, he forewent any and all rights to pass judgement on me the day he had sex with her. He no longer had domain over my actions, decisions, or the people I chose to spend time with. He would reap what he would sow.

I knew what people might say, what rumors would be started, what my ex would try to pass off as the truth. For a while, I cared; I cared very much. I had already been shamed and forced into a deep, dark place. I didn’t want anyone saying that I had brought this upon myself. I knew I hadn’t but I was scared others might think I had.

Then I remembered all he had done. Getting another woman pregnant. Having unprotected sex while I had a ring on my finger symbolizing his “love.” I remembered that he was having a baby; a son. I remembered that he was posting Instagram and Facebook pictures of baby shoes only a few months later, forcing me to field texts messages and comments of “congratulations” from friends and acquaintances who thought the baby was mine. I remembered having to explain what he did to these people, some I hardly knew. I remembered seeing their faces of disgust when I told some in person. I remembered the sadness in my parents and brother’s eyes every time they glanced in my direction. I remembered the bruise on my foot where he had violently thrown a phone at me in a fit of rage, accusing me of infidelity. I remembered the endless shame he had so selfishly forced upon me time and time again. It is these reasons why I stopped caring what other people would think, what he would think. This was my life now and mine alone. Anyone who knew and loved me would know the truth. And for those who don’t believe me? Well, he’s a damn good liar and, one day, you will discover the monster that he truly is. Good riddance to him and, until then, good riddance to you.

As we made our final descent into Portland, I opened the shade and took in the sight before me. The beautiful snow capped mountains emerged, clear as day, with not a cloud in the sky. This trip was going to be exactly what I needed and as we landed on the tarmac, all thoughts of the monster in my life faded away far into the closet. I closed and locked the door.

***

I got into the Uber ride, typing in the local Starbucks near where Ben’s last meeting would be held. I sat outside in the beautiful patio weather, my back to the parking lot as I waited for him to pull up in his compact rental car to drive us to his last meeting for the day.

As I sat drinking my coffee, I saw a BMW out of the corner of my eye. It hovered right behind me and I heard an odd mechanical hum and clank that made me look behind me. I immediately burst out laughing.

There was Ben, in a baby blue BMW 430i, smiling like a little kid, while he sat idle in the parking lot waiting for me to notice him as he hit the button for the retractable roof of the convertible.

“You told me you got us a HI-YUN-DIAH!” I say with a sick karate chop move.

He laughed, knowing I could never quite pronounce “Hyundai.”

“Yea, well…I lied,” he chuckled. “I told the girl at National that we were driving Highway 1 and needed something special. This is what she brought!”

I could feel myself smiling the biggest, cheesiest grin.

He is so wonderful, I thought to myself.

***

Our first night in Portland went as it usually did. We spent it walking around the city, stopping in at Andina, our favorite Peruvian spot, for tapas. We eventually met up with one of Ben’s friends from back home in Cincinnati at a rooftop bar for a drink. Afterwards, we retired back to our hotel on the outskirts of the city and tucked in for the night.

***

Wednesday, July 25th, 2018

The next day in Portland was jam-packed with meetings. We hurried to get through our last one, knowing we had the daunting task of driving many hours through the valleys of Oregon to get to from Portland to Medford before the wee hours of the morning.

Sitting in the hotel parking lot around 3:00 p.m., Ben pulled out his phone. “It’s 272 miles to Medford,” he said while sitting in the driver’s seat. “It’ll take us about five hours, but we can stop for dinner in Eugene.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said as I threw my bag into the back seat of the convertible.

Off we went.

***

Car rides with Ben were always quite the adventure. We had set up a playlist for ourselves, “L&B Cali Road Trip,” which included some of our mutual favorite jams like those from Kelly Clarkson, Maroon 5 and Walk the Moon. Ben made sure to turn the volume all the way up so he could sing as loud as he could without drowning out the song; his head bopping back and forth to the beat like an adorable cartoon.

He mentioned we could take turns driving if I wanted, but he knew all too well that I loved just gazing out at the horizon at all the natural beauty of the Pacific Northwest; getting lost in the music, like a score to my life that is this movie.

The upbeat sing-a-longs turned to our softer playlist as we slowed down and mellowed into the rhythmic patterns and soft murmurs of the car wheels over the highway road.

As we started to see signs for Eugene appear more and more, Ben grew excited.

“Can we stop and see the stadiums at the University of Oregon?!” He was grinning ear to ear, hopeful for an affirming head nod from me.

I let out a quick laugh, “I mean, sure?”

He gripped the steering wheels and smiled dramatically, like I had just made his day.

***

We drove through the campus, getting a glimpse of everything from Greek life to academic buildings. As we pulled up to the new basketball arena, Ben pulled the car over and we got out.

Matthew Knight Arena, it read.

We walked up to the glass door entrance, hoping to get a glimpse inside at the famous basketball court design; known for the grove of trees painted on the hardwood floor.

We pulled the doors towards us, resulting in a loud clanking as it buckled shut. Locked to the public.

As we started to walk away and back down the stairs we heard a voice come from behind us.

“Can I help you?”

We both looked over our shoulder.

An older man had emerged from the stadium. He was a stout fellow, with gray hair, khakis and a polo shirt on. He reminded me of a minion overseeing and guarding the gates to his kingdom.

“W-we were just leaving, sir,” I answered nervously.

“We are just traveling through and wanted to see if we could get a glimpse of the new court,” Ben said. “We’re big college basketball fans.”

He stared at us for a minute; sizing us both up. Ben and I looked at each other and back at him.

“Well, I suppose I could give you a peak real quick,” he said through a muffled sigh.

Ben all but sprinted up the stairs out of excitement. We hurried inside as the minion closed the doors behind us. As the man turned around, Ben already had a hand outstretched towards him.

“I’m Ben!” he said grinning. “And this is Lindsay. We’re from Chicago.”

I outstretched my hand.

“O-oh,” he mumbled; surprised at my small outstretched palm. “Nice to meet you. I’m Larry,” he said, grabbing my hand gently, with one, firm shake.

He walked us around the main level of the stadium. It was one of the nicest college arenas I had ever seen.

“Oh, uh..sorry it smells in here,” Larry said.

I looked at Ben, surely thinking he was going to make an ill-timed fart joke.

“We’re treating the floors and it has quite the aroma,” he explained. “We can’t walk on them but you can see it from up here.”

We walked into the arena and saw the vast court below us. All the wood planks had been separated for their chemical treatment. The smell permeated in the air; warm tingling in the nostrils.

Ben asked a myriad of questions about when the court was built, about Phil Night, and about Larry himself. We learned that Larry was the head of security for the stadium; working games, concerts, and anything else that passed through the small town of Eugene. He was a retired police officer, which made sense given his skeptical demeanor around us “kids.” Ben had a knack for people. He could talk to anyone and make a friend. Before long, I saw Larry’s lip turn upright in a crooked smile as Ben spoke and joked with him.

“You know,” Larry said. “I could give you a full tour if you have time.” He looked hopeful, like he wanted us to keep him company and stay awhile.

Ben lit up, “That would be awesome!”

We spent the next hour walking around the stadium. He showed us Phil Knight’s suite, the locker rooms, press rooms, and detailed the sad story of the stadium’s namesake; the late son of Phil Knight who had passed away, Matthew Knight.

“Do you want a Snapple, Lindsay?” Larry asked as we walked.

“Oh, no thank you,” I replied.

“Are you sure? We have a lot of drinks leftover from the Faith Hill concert. She’s a nice lady.”

He asked a few more times; I laughed to myself thinking that this was his home and we were his guests. He wanted to provide something for his guests just as I would force wine and food on anyone that was a guest in my house.

“You know, Larry,” I said. “I haven’t had a Snapple in years. That sounds great.”

His face lit up, “You betcha!” And we started walking down to the loading dock where his office was.

He let us into his security office, beaming with pride as he showed us all his equipment and cameras that he watched to help keep the establishment safe. He reached into his small refrigerator and gave us two drinks. He then turned to us, “You know, I also have these nifty bags and some bobble heads of Phil Knight,” he said softly. “Do you guys want some?”

“Heck yea,” Ben replied as Larry went to grab the items from a closet for us.

Ben and I looked at each other and he mouthed to me silently.

“THIS IS SO COOL.”

I laughed quietly, not wanting Larry to hear.

As he came back with the goodies, we made our way upstairs back to the main entrance together.

“This has been an absolute pleasure,” I said taking Larry’s hand to shake with my right and putting my left hand of top of his.

“We cannot thank you enough,” Ben said. “We will send you a gift from Chicago so be on the lookout!”

Larry shuffled his feet and scratched the back of his neck; his beautiful awkwardness a sign of true humility in that moment.

Ben shook his hand again and we thanked him again as we walked out the door.

“Dude, Larry is the man!”

***

We got back in the car, grabbing a quick pizza and salad to eat on the road, knowing our little pit-stop had set us back and we wouldn’t arrive in Medford for a few hours still.

As the road got dark, Ben and I decided to turn the music all but down to a whisper as we shared scary stories. I remember getting goosebumps listening to him as we winded through the dark, forested roads of southern Oregon.

As we neared our destination, Ben and I remembered that there was a single In-N-Out Burger in Oregon and we were about to pass it.

“Perfect timing,” Ben exclaimed. “We need gas too.”

We exited the highway at Grants Pass and pulled into the Shell station and the bottom of the hill next to the In-N-Out. Ben rolled his window down in anticipation for the gas attendant; in Oregon, you do not pump your own gas.

“Hi there,” a young man’s voice said. “What’ll it be?”

Ben told him what to fill up with as we scrounged the car for a few dollars to use to tip.

“Hey, man,” Ben said to the young attendant. “Can we buy you dinner? We’re going to In-N-Out.”

The man looked at us puzzled. He couldn’t have been much older than seventeen.

“N-no, I’m okay. You don’t have to do that,” he said nervously.

Ben insisted and I leaned over him in the driver’s seat to look at the attendant and nod my head as well.

“Umm, well okay.” He gave us his order.

We quickly went up the hill to grab the food. Both of us first ordering and devouring our “animal style” burgers and fries. As I waited outside finishing my drink, Ben went back in to order the attendant’s food so it would be fresh and warm.

I smiled looking at him inside at the register. Ben was one of the most thoughtful people I had ever met. I had witnessed countless times he took care of people; friends, family, neighbors, old men needing help with their luggage or crossing the street. It wasn’t any surprise to me he was buying a complete stranger dinner. The thought of him being in my life made me feel, for the first time in weeks, grateful.

I had moments like these often when we were together. He made everything magical. He stripped me of all my anxieties; a calming force in my life as I laid in the aftermath of a destructive, emotional tornado.

We dropped off dinner to the young attendant. His figure in the rear-view mirror slowly shrinking as we pulled away and back onto the highway. I’ll never forget his face as he thanked us and watched us drive away. Like he was witnessing something extraordinary.

We finally made it to our hotel in Medford around midnight. The sky was filled with stars and the moon almost full. We unloaded the car and carried our luggage up to our shared room with two beds. We brushed our teeth and changed.

“Just a few meetings in the morning and then on to our big adventure,” Ben said.

I climbed in bed next to him, as was now customary. He said goodnight, shut his eyes and fell asleep.

I laid there in the dark, looking at him and thinking to myself; wondering what exact moment it was that I knew I was in love with him.

The beauty of it, I thought, is that there wasn’t a moment at all. No grand realization or epiphany; just a simple notion and acceptance of what had been true all along.

“I always loved him.”

***