William Bernhardt - Hate Crime

“True enough.”

“There are obviously some forces who want to see my son dead. They almost succeeded once. And how many others are there out there, maybe lurking in the jury or in a judge’s robe?” She paused, gathering her breath. “I need the best there is, Ben. I need you.”

Ben drummed his fingers on his desk, not even realizing he was doing it. “Well, now. This is quite a role reversal, isn’t it?”

Her head fell. “Ben, isn’t there any way we can… let the past be the past?”

“That would be the noble thing, wouldn’t it? Pity I’m not that noble.”

“Please, Ben. I’m begging you.”

“I recall doing a little begging myself.”

“Ben…” She pressed her hand against her forehead. “I did the right thing. At least-I thought I did. You don’t know what would’ve happened if-”

“I know you wouldn’t have a hatemongering bastard for a son!”

Ellen looked as if she had been slapped in the face, which in a very real sense, she had. After a long while, she spoke. “Is there nothing I can do to change your mind?”

“Nothing short of a miracle.”

“I believe in miracles,” Ellen said quietly. “And there was a time when you did, too.”

Ben made no reply.

“I wish I could tell you, Ben, that you haven’t changed. That’s what people always say. You haven’t changed a bit.” She stopped, her eyes not quite reaching his. “But you have.”

“It’s been a long time,” he answered. “Everyone changes.”

“Perhaps. But you were so sweet and innocent and trusting and… and…” Her eyes wandered helplessly. “And I can’t help but ask myself if this is my fault.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I know I hurt you, Ben. I understand that. But if you could just try to understand what I was going through.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation.”

“But I can see that you’re still hurting-”

“You’re making too much of this.”

“Ben, please! At least-” She paused, her face twisted with emotion. “Peanut butter and jelly, Ben.”

“Stop.”

“Peanut butter and jelly.”

“That was stupid.”

“You didn’t used to think so.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“Not that long,” she said quietly. She held out her arms toward him. “One embrace. Just to remember.”

“I’m sorry, Ellen. I’m not trying to be mean or vengeful. I just-can’t.”

Her arms fell, and she looked as tired as a person could possibly be and still go on living. “Is there nothing I can do?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.” She took her purse and rose. “But I wish you the best, Ben. I mean that. I always have. I-I understand. Really I do.”

A moment later, she had disappeared down the corridor. And Ben’s office door was shut tight. And locked.

If only he could shut his mind as easily. If only he could block out the thoughts, force himself to forget. What she was, what she had become.

What her face looked like, smeared with blood.

He remembered everything. Especially that day on the subway. What he thought would be the last time he ever saw her.

One of the great advantages to living in Toronto, in addition to the clean streets, the cultural opportunities, and the low crime rate, was the subway system. The best in the world, some said. You could get anywhere you needed to go in no time at all.

Except sometimes Ben wished it wasn’t so easy to get so far so fast. Sometimes he wished the whole world would slow down. And give him a chance to catch up.

“I don’t care what the doctors say,” Ben said. He was not a child, damn it, and he was not going to cry. “I want to be with you.”

“It won’t be the same.”

“I don’t care if it’s the same. I don’t care if it’s a day.”

“I’m not planning to drop dead tomorrow.” Ellen checked herself. It was a crowded subway car; she lowered her voice. “Maybe not at all.”

“Then what-”

“I’m going to be sick, Ben. Very sick.”

“I don’t care. I want to be with you.”

“Would you stop thinking about yourself for one damn minute?”

Ben felt his heart pounding, as if beating a path out of his chest. “I-I don’t understand. I thought we loved each other.”

“Ben-”

“You said you loved me. You said you’d marry me.”

“Ben-”

“My family is coming up in three days for the wedding. My grandmother is coming from her farm in Arkansas. My father has already paid for the tuxes!”

“Ben, would you just listen to me!” She gripped his wrist, and as she did, he could feel the tension radiating through her. “I have encephalitis, Ben. Viral encephalitis.”

“I don’t even know what that is.”

“It’s a viral infection of the brain. It can cause brain cell death. Swelling. Seizures. Brain damage. And death.”

“But not every time.”

“You’re not listening to me, Ben. It could change me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about brain damage!” She raised a hand, pressing it against her forehead. “What do you think happens when your brain cells die? Even if it doesn’t kill you, it can change your personality. Already I feel… different. I wake up in the morning and I’m not sure who I am.”

“I don’t care. I want to be with you.”

“I don’t want to be with you!” She fell backward, exhausted, pale. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“But we were-”

“I can’t marry you, Ben. I can’t marry anyone! Don’t you get it? It wouldn’t be fair, not to you, not to anyone.”

“There must be some way. My father is a doctor and he has friends and-”

“Go away, Ben. Please go away and leave me alone.”

“Ellen, no.”

“Yes. I’m getting off at the next stop. And you are not going to follow me.”

“Ellen, I can’t.”

“Please!” She was shouting, the veins rising in her neck. “Leave me alone!”

That’s when it started. She fell to the corrugated metal floor with such velocity it was as if she had intentionally launched herself. She writhed back and forth on the floor. Her nose bled like a hose. Spittle bubbled up from her mouth.

“Ellen! Ellen!” He felt paralyzed, unable to move. She had become a spasmodic rag doll, twitching and thrashing in an unnatural manner. Her eyes rolled up into her head. “Ellen!”

She was barely able to speak; her face merely a reminder of what it had been before. But she still managed to spit out a few syllables. “Beeeen… gggg-go a-wayyy!”

He watched helplessly as a middle-aged man pushed him aside and knelt beside her. He loosened her collar and put something in her mouth to hold down her tongue.

Ben gaped at the hideous transformation. She was not at all the girl he remembered, was she? Could this possibly be the woman he loved?

“G-g-g-go… a… wayyy, Ben! Go a-way! ”

When Lillian finished telling the story, Christina felt as if she’d been flattened by a truck. She’d always suspected there was something like this. Only three days away and everyone he loved coming. And in the middle of the subway…

“I’m sorry I can’t tell you more about it, but as you know, Ben isn’t much of talker. I’ve had to pick up most of what little I know from third parties.”

“That’s all right,” Christina said, still feeling shell-shocked. “So they broke up because she was sick?” She shook her head. “I mean, that’s tough. But why would that make Ben so bitter? Surely he’d understand…”

“Christina.” The older woman grabbed her hand and gripped it tightly. “You’ve got to keep that woman away from him. No matter what. Even if it means dropping the case.”