Ch 12: The Interview

“I’m planning on recording. That okay with you?”

Benji blinks, and nods, swallowing. “Sure, yeah. Sure thing,” he says.

“Okay, perfect.” The journalist, Alyssa, produces a slim tape recorder from her purse and places it on the table. Its edge shines in the streetlight’s glare through the large window of the Tsuga coffee shop. Benji had agreed to speak with her only if she came after hours.

“Do you want some water or wine or something?” He asks her.

“Oh,” she smiles. “Sure.”

Benji hesitates. Which one? he wonders. He gets up and shuffles across the shop and behind the bar, deciding to bring her both. He pours wine for himself as well, into a paper coffee cup. Balancing the three cups between his fingers, he returns to the table.

“Thanks” she says. Her smile is overemphasized. Irritating. “Okay, ready?”

He lifts his hands as if to say whatever. No. Yes. I don’t know, he thinks all at once.

The gargantuan smile again. Ugh.

“OK great. Start by telling me what your relationship is with Maya McDonough.”

“She’s my business partner. And a good friend.”

“How did you meet?”

Benji snorts. He hardly remembered. He and Maya went so far back.

“I don’t know. School. We go way back,” he says.

“Did you ever date?” She asks.

What the fuck lady, Benji thinks. And then, “Yes. Yeah, we were together for a long time.”

“Why not anymore?” She asks.

He crinkles his eyebrows at her.

“Sorry, sorry,” she says. “None of my business.”

He clears his throat.

“So, you’re close, I guess is what I’m getting at.”

“Yeah. We’re close.” Benji elaborates. What is this woman after? He had promised himself not to give her too much.

“Did she tell you she was plotting, or, that she was going to assault Tom Hanford?”

“Of course not.” Benji half-growls. Alyssa’s smile fades.

“Well…when did you find out?”

“I had to be questioned. They came and got me. The, uh, the police.”

“Right. I read that she admitted to it right away.”

“Yep.”

Alyssa grips her cup of wine, clearly unamused now.

“Do you think she should have been charged with attempted murder? Or do you think that’s a bit steep?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I’m certain she didn’t want to kill the man. Their families are close. The stuff isn’t even lethal. I mean, you’ve read all the reports, right? You’ve done your research.”

“Of course. I want to know what you think,” Alyssa says.

“I think she wanted to stir things up. Look, you don’t know Maya. That’s who she is. But she’s not a murderer.”

“Well, with what’s happening now… I’d say she stirred things up. Everyone knows about the trees now. Doesn’t that make you a little bit proud?”

“Proud?”

Alyssa continued. “I mean- Hanford’s fine, right? He’s going to be fine. And now there’s awareness, tension, activism. She got want she wanted.”

Benji twists in his seat. He throws back his cup of wine and lets the last drops slide into his throat. It tastes like shit. Like vinegar.

“Look, this whole thing is a mess. She’s probably going to prison for the rest of her life. I don’t think that’s what she wanted, or however you’re trying to paint this.”

“This article is about environmental passion, Benji. Don’t worry. It will probably help her with the appeal.”

He sniffs. “I’m gonna have a smoke,” he says, pushes back his chair and lets himself out the front door, leaving the tape recorder whirring, and the reporter sitting silently in her chair.

Outside, he breathes in sharply, unpockets his pouch of tobacco. He lifts the flap and pushes aside the vegetable shavings he keeps in it to keep the tobacco moist. It was something Maya had taught him. She didn’t approve of his smoking, ever, but she used to put beet trimmings and carrot peels into his pouch anyway. He starts to roll up a smoke and hears the door of the shop opening.

“May I join you?” Alyssa asks.

“Sure,” he says. She sits down on the bench beside him. “You can turn that thing off, though,” he says, gesturing with the half-rolled cigarette in the direction of her tape recorder. She clicks the button to comply. Licking the rolling paper, he nods his thanks.

“Maya is a good person. She gives a shit, okay? If that’s what your article is about that’s all right with me. But don’t make it about what I think. I don’t know what I think. I think it’s all sad and scary. And I’m tired. I’m just really, really fuckin’ tired,” Benji says.

“No problem,” Alyssa says. “You can trust me.”

“Right,” Benji says around the cigarette he’s lighting. He doesn’t trust her for a single second. The lighter flares, magnified through the lens of his glasses, and leaves a trace of orange burned into his right eye. At least she isn’t asking him any more questions. He likes to smoke in peace.