Thirty-Six

“Look at this! It’s a party on a stick!” Riley tore the wrapper off her birthday cake ice cream bar. The crunchy rainbow coating is just like I remember! Her smile grew as she took a bite and slid it against the roof of her mouth with her tongue. The sweetness melted faster than she expected, freeing her to speak. “Like yours? I was this close to getting you a SpongeBob one but thought that was more fitting now that you’re a climbing pro!”

Ben stared at the unopened Spider-Man popsicle in his hands. “Riley, I have to tell you something…”

“Ooh, a confession?” Is he kidding around again? Just play along. “Oh, shit! Spider-Man! Your weird-ass cartoon phobia and SPIDERS, right.” She nibbled the crunchy bits on the corner of her bar. “I’ll run it back real quick, swap it for—”

“I know.” Under his breath, he cut her off.

Woah. He’s not kidding around. He looks upset.

“Riley, your mom…I know about her cancer.”

Wait, what?! He knows about Mom? How?? A sinking sensation, like the one she’d felt from slipping down the rock, overwhelmed her stomach—only her jeans weren’t sliding over stone, her sneakers weren’t racing to the ground. Staring at Ben, she lost the ability to blink, and she had seemingly yanked his heart down with hers—his usually sparkly eyes peered back, dimmed with anguish and sympathy. She swallowed thickly. The sweet taste left behind on her tongue turned sickly, a cruel reminder that ice cream rainbows and carefree sunny days were meant for other people, not her.

He set down his popsicle and scooted closer. “I saw a crowdfunding link on Facebook just now—from Piper. I’m so sorry…”

She must’ve friended him…oh God, I should’ve thought of that. Losing focus, her eyes abandoned his face, searching the park without purpose. Kids continued to laugh and scamper nearby, but Riley heard only her heartbeat thrashing through her ears. He was my island, my one friend who didn’t know, didn’t ask questions, didn’t see me like he’s seeing me now—someone to pity, someone to coddle…and maybe avoid.

“Riles? Riley?”

A cold wetness—ice cream dripping on her jeans—jolted her back, but her eyes wouldn’t settle. “I don’t really want to talk about it. It’s not…I…” The melting treat slipped from her fingers, landing on its wrapper.

“And we don’t have to, not if you don’t want to, but I know you must be at your wit’s end, worrying about her.” His tone was gentle, quiet. He leaned closer yet kept a polite distance, waiting for her to let him in. “Is…is there anything I can do? I’ll donate some money, of course, but besides that? I want to help.”

Her eyes began to sting. What team will Ben join? The Downloaders? Bubble-Wrappers, Grim Reapers? His frightened ghost Pac-Man tattoo on the inside of his right forearm caught her attention. Ghosters. Didn’t he say something about ‘quick exits’ on the airport bus?

“I’m a good listener. If you want to talk or vent…I’ll listen. People say it helps, having someone who’ll listen.”

You say that, but… She bowed her head and hid behind a curtain of hair, blinking rapidly. Don’t cry—not in public, not in front of him. Still, her tears persisted, blurring her view of the colorful river of ice cream trickling down the rock. “It gets old really quick.”

“What does?”

“Being friends with someone stuck on the cancer hamster wheel.” In her bag, her hand scrambled for a tissue. “Trust me, I’ve seen it. People bail.”

“Well, trust me—those people are arseholes.” Tentatively, he reached out, softly laying a hand on her knee, careful not to touch the pale bare skin teasing through a tear in the denim. “So maybe not all our hanging out will involve chicken dinos or eighties clubs, but that’s fine by me. It’s the quiet moments—being there, listening…that’s what makes a friendship. Riles, I won’t bail.” He squeezed her knee. “I promise. You don’t have to face this alone.”

She whisked away her tears, giving him a fleeting glance. That look in his eyes—I think he really means it.

“And if you’re not ready to talk, if you just want company, I can wait. I’m not going anywhere.” He looked down. “I mean that literally, by the way. The thought of letting go and climbing down this bloody mountain…I might wee myself—or worse!”

A ghost of a grin raised her damp cheeks.

He chuckled then pulled his smile back, a thoughtful tone imbuing his words again. “Riles, if you need me to be that guy who cheers you up, I’m still here. Just…please don’t feel like you have to pretend. Not with me.”

Pretending…it’s become second nature.

A wasp, tantalized by the fruity scent of the melting Spider-Man, hovered beside Ben’s thigh, but he remained focused only on Riley—and she noticed. Her eyes traveled to his hand, his thumb slowly grazing the denim—back and forth, back and forth—each light sweep erasing her hesitance to share…to bare her heart.

“Sometimes it’s just easier to smile and get on with it, look happy.” Several tears fled through her eyelashes.

Watching them slip toward her mouth, Ben’s eyebrows creased.

“I keep up appearances at school, at work. I don’t let the cracks show, and it’s a full-time job.” She sniffed. “So, I post happy photos on social media, lie about how I’m feeling, and push on. Truth is, I feel drained. I feel like a fake.” She wiped away more tears. “I haven’t been happy for a while.”

His thumb paused then continued to stroke her knee. “But that’s understandable…with your mom…”

“Yeah, that’s part of it, but I had times like this when I was a kid. Before Mom was sick, maybe even before Dad left. I don’t know, maybe I sensed something wasn’t right between them? But it’s weird. Sadness sometimes twists into loneliness—even when I’m with friends. Things I love don’t interest me or cheer me up. Sometimes the dark clouds last a day, sometimes for weeks. And then, I get angry for feeling this way, but I can’t climb out. It’s like quicksand.” She inhaled a stuttering breath. “So, I do the next best thing—pretend, and I think if I pretend hard enough, something will click into place and I’ll feel happier. It rarely works, though…”

“Do you talk to your mom about it?”

“Sometimes. When I was a teenager, she made me—” She bit her cheek. Am I rambling too much?

“You can tell me, Riley. I won’t judge.”

She took a deep breath. “I saw a psychologist. He diagnosed me with smiling depression.”

Ben’s eyebrows disappeared into his hair. “Smiling…?”

“I know, right? Sounds like a joke, but it’s real—smiling on the outside when you’re lost and crumbling inside.”

“Smiling depression…wow.” His hand left her knee, drifting to his chin, where it scratched aimlessly. “I’ve never heard that before.”

“Seriously, Google it.” She sniffed and tucked the used tissue in her tote. “I don’t like talking about it with Mom—she has enough to deal with. I don’t want her more stressed, worrying about me. I have to be strong for her.” Her eyes drifted to three sparrows sunbathing on the rock, falling silent for a beat. “I don’t get into it with my friends, either. I mean, Piper and Casey know, but that’s it.”

“Not Erika?”

Riley shrugged. “It’s not something you share openly in high school. I felt embarrassed, I guess…kinda still do. Erika’s my oldest friend, but…”

“Not necessarily the closest?”

She nodded. “She’s more of a good-time friend, you know? The one who’s there for shopping, parties, meeting guys…but she isn’t the most reliable when things turn sour.”

“So, why tell me? I mean, I’m glad you did…”

“I don’t know. Maybe because you know what it’s like to feel a bit different from everyone else with your Scottish accent, your dyslexia…” Her eyes roamed the cloudless sky. “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone who hasn’t known you forever.”

He smiled, his gaze slowly traveling from her eyes up to her hair and back again. “Well…thank you.”

“For what?”

“Trusting me with something so important. It means a lot.” He leaned forward, zipping his lips. “I won’t tell a soul.”

“You don’t know anyone.” She smiled, watching the sparrows chirp and flutter, dipping their beaks in the ice cream puddle. “Oh…except the Eggplant.”

“And public nudity aside, he’s a very private and discreet bloke!” Ben laughed. “But I mean it. I think it’s brave, you telling me.”

“Oh, you want brave, you should meet my mom.”

“I’d love to. She sounds brilliant.” He squinted into the sun and turned back to her. “So, your dream of working in California…you’re not going with Piper, are you? Not yet. Your heart’s here—with your mom.”

He sees me. She nodded. “I’m not going anywhere until I know she’ll be okay. She’s my best friend—she’s everything to me. It’s always just been me and her against the world. I can’t lose her, Ben, I just can’t…” Fresh tears threatened her lashes, but she held them at bay. “Third time lucky. She’s strong. She can beat it. It’s just so unfair that she has to go through it all over again.”

Ben blew out his cheeks. “You’ve really been through a lot.”

He gets it. “So have you. We’ve all got scars.”

“Yeah, I guess. I think sometimes the scars you can’t see are a lot worse than the ones you can, you know?” Running a hand through his hair, he paused on the back of his neck. He sighed heavily, sinking into silence as his shoulders and chin dropped.

“You okay? Thinking about your dad?”

His eyes were soft, distant. “No. Cancer…” His fingers traced shapes on the rock. “My mum,” he said in a whisper.

No! Your mom has cancer? Riley’s hand shot to her mouth. “What?! Ben! How is—”

“No, no—it’s okay!” he answered quickly, laying his hand on her knee again. “She beat it—years ago. It was breast cancer. They caught it early.” He met her eyes with a soft smile.

“Oh, thank God!” She exhaled heavily, her relief palatable. He’s been through this. He knows what it’s like.

“And listen, Hope—your mom will beat it, too. You’ve got to believe that, okay?” He squeezed her knee. “She’s a fighter, right? She sounds strong, just like you, saving yourself from falling”—he patted the rock—“when you were a kid. If anyone can fight this thing, and pull herself back to the top, she can. Third time lucky, right?”

“Amen!” He’s been so kind, and a really good…friend.

“I’m not religious, but okay.” He chuckled. “Although I might need a prayer to help me get off this bloody thing.”

“You don’t need a prayer, you just need me. C’mon, gimme your hand, you big wuss.” Riley reached out, and Ben accepted.