If you haven't read them, go find parts one, two, three, and four before you read this :)
When she first moved out to the city to join Jaime, she'd insisted they find a little park to call their own. Growing up, her backyard had backed up into a quiet neighborhood park. She had thought of it as her little place. Not like Terabithia or anything but just somewhere she could go to be herself. Her mom would pack picnics and Beth would tromp out to the biggest tree in the park and sit in the shade on her little blanket and play outside for hours. She read aloud to herself, told herself stories from all sorts of imagined worlds, but mostly she sat on the swings and sang to herself.
Looking back she knew this was probably not normal. there was always some sort of narrative or soundtrack running through her head. She just had to let it out. Jaime had been the first person who wasn't a realative that she let into that little world.
In high school they'd spent hours at the park doing homework with Beth using the swing set as her reward. "When I finish these pre-calc problems I get five minutes of swing time."
"Mhmm..." Jaime would mumble, sticking his nose back in his biology textbook, but secretly smiling and sneaking glances at his girlfriend. He loved it when she lit up like that. He knew that some of his friends wondered what he saw in her, but he knew there was this side of her she never let the public see. The swing set Beth. The Beth who loved to belt out show tunes on car trips. the Beth who agonized over outfits for an hour before settling on one that perfectly suited the occasion. Some where along the line he'd been granted temporary citizenship in her little world, and he was the luckiest man for it.
That's why after seven years of dating, he brought her out to this very park and proposed. She was sitting on the swing, and he knelt down in front of her and gave her his grandmother's ring. It's where they held the ceremony. It was her home away from home. Her comfort. And just what she needed that night.
A half an hour later, they were back on the train into the city, Beth feeling better but no more wiser about the situation. When they got home, Cole's door was shut, but they could hear his hushed voice from behind the door. Not wanting to interrupt, Beth went straight to bed, while Jaime packed up his things for the weekend.
The annual "men's weekend" had been a Benson family tradition for ages. And Cole had been a "Benson adoptee" from the moment Jaime's mother, Martha, learned he was an only child with less than close parents. "Clearly this boy needs some big Benson family love." So each year for the last four, Beth had to pack up both her men and send them off on a "weekend adventure," hoping her father- and brothers-in-law would return them in the same condition she sent them in.
When she first moved out to the city to join Jaime, she'd insisted they find a little park to call their own. Growing up, her backyard had backed up into a quiet neighborhood park. She had thought of it as her little place. Not like Terabithia or anything but just somewhere she could go to be herself. Her mom would pack picnics and Beth would tromp out to the biggest tree in the park and sit in the shade on her little blanket and play outside for hours. She read aloud to herself, told herself stories from all sorts of imagined worlds, but mostly she sat on the swings and sang to herself.
Looking back she knew this was probably not normal. there was always some sort of narrative or soundtrack running through her head. She just had to let it out. Jaime had been the first person who wasn't a realative that she let into that little world.
In high school they'd spent hours at the park doing homework with Beth using the swing set as her reward. "When I finish these pre-calc problems I get five minutes of swing time."
"Mhmm..." Jaime would mumble, sticking his nose back in his biology textbook, but secretly smiling and sneaking glances at his girlfriend. He loved it when she lit up like that. He knew that some of his friends wondered what he saw in her, but he knew there was this side of her she never let the public see. The swing set Beth. The Beth who loved to belt out show tunes on car trips. the Beth who agonized over outfits for an hour before settling on one that perfectly suited the occasion. Some where along the line he'd been granted temporary citizenship in her little world, and he was the luckiest man for it.
That's why after seven years of dating, he brought her out to this very park and proposed. She was sitting on the swing, and he knelt down in front of her and gave her his grandmother's ring. It's where they held the ceremony. It was her home away from home. Her comfort. And just what she needed that night.
A half an hour later, they were back on the train into the city, Beth feeling better but no more wiser about the situation. When they got home, Cole's door was shut, but they could hear his hushed voice from behind the door. Not wanting to interrupt, Beth went straight to bed, while Jaime packed up his things for the weekend.
The annual "men's weekend" had been a Benson family tradition for ages. And Cole had been a "Benson adoptee" from the moment Jaime's mother, Martha, learned he was an only child with less than close parents. "Clearly this boy needs some big Benson family love." So each year for the last four, Beth had to pack up both her men and send them off on a "weekend adventure," hoping her father- and brothers-in-law would return them in the same condition she sent them in.
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