Benched

by Jeff Baker

The older of the two workmen finished bolting the last of the metal legs of the wooden bench into the concrete to one side of the sidewalk that ran between the Fine Arts Building and Campus Administration.

“That oughta do it,” he said. “Two expensive benches paid for by rich alumni.”

“These are just like the other benches,” the younger workman said. “What makes them so pricey?”

“These little things,” the older workman said, tapping a metal plate screwed onto the back of each one. “They bought these in memorial to two of their classmates from years ago.” He started putting his tools in the box. “You know, my cousin went to school here back then.” He tapped one of the plaques. “She said this guy, Eddie Tooks and the other one, Drew Singer were best friends on and off the basketball court. Tooks died about thirty years ago and Singer died this past year. I guess their friends decided this was a good way to remember them.”

“Yeah,” the younger workman said. “It’s kind of nice to think about. I mean, two best buddies getting memorialized together.”

The two workmen walked off not seeing the two twenty-something looking young men in varsity jackets sitting opposite each other on the opposite benches.

“Awwww, swell!” the taller one said. “As if sitting on this damn bench wasn’t bad enough, now I got Mister Varsity Showoff in my face!”

“Hey, this was not my idea!” the shorter man in the varsity jacket said. “They told me I had to sit on this bench with my name on it and hang around for a while.”

“Sure as Hell wasn’t my idea!” the tall one said.

“E. J., will you stop saying ‘damn’ and ‘hell.’ We got enough troubles!”

“That’s the only good news, Drew,” E. J. said. “We aren’t anywhere but St. Nigel’s college again.”

“Yeah, I was here for alumni things a few times.” Drew said. “But I keeled over at sixty. Now look at me! I’m twenty again!”

“And nobody can see us!” E. J. sneered. “And I didn’t like looking at you when you were alive and we went here.”

The two men sat on the benches trying not to look at each other.

“So,” Drew finally said. “What’s the weather like when you’re dead?”

“Same as usual, it’s still Kansas,” E.J. said. “Except it goes right through you.”

They sat in silence for a while longer. Then Drew spoke up again.

“How long do we have to be here, anyway?”

“I think,” E. J. said, “until these original benches crumble or get torn down.”

“Then we go off to paradise or somewhere else, you think?” Drew said.

“Or some where else,” E. J. said. “Or we get reincarnated. Maybe we wind up back here as kids decades from now.”

“Maybe we get to be rivals again,” Drew said.

“Great!” E. J. snorted.

After a while spent in silence, Drew spoke up again. “You know, I’d kind of like that. You always brought out the best in me. Basketball, baseball, the track team…”

“And the worst in each other.” E. J. said.

“Yeah. Maybe.” Drew said. “But I’ve missed some of it.”

“Yeah.” E. J. said.

“Hey! Look up there!” Drew said. “I’ve never seen so many stars!”

“Yeah, that stuff that light pollution doesn’t bother us,” E. J. said. “Something else that’s fun?”

“What?” Drew said.

“Every now and then there’ll be some kid doing weed and he’ll sit down here and he can like hear me and I’ll go ‘Boo’ or something!”

They both laughed. Then, more silence.

“Hey, when do we sleep?” Drew asked.

“We don’t,” E. J. said.

“Oh…” Drew said. “Hey, you remember the time when…”

—end—