Seventy

What? No…no! It can’t be…

Stepping out of the cab, Riley trembled, the cellophane surrounding her flowers rustling against her parka in the brisk breeze. “Ben? It’s not…” Words she never thought she’d say choked her throat. “Your mom…?”

He nodded, closing the car’s door behind them. The slam unnerved several crows loitering in nearby trees, their abrasive caw-caw-caw filling the stilted silence between the couple as the cab headed back toward the main road. Ben swept his hair from his eyes and wrapped his arm around Riley’s shoulder, guiding her off the cement path. A warm breath left his lips in a shudder.

The safe, familiar feel of Ben holding her close was of little comfort. Walking through row upon row of moss-covered gravestones, her eyes, dazed with disbelief, filled with tears. Her shoes sank into the spongy sod with each fraught step. This is every child’s nightmare. The tingling in her nose intensified with the cemetery’s earthy smell of damp, freshly turned dirt. Poor Ben! “When…when did it happen—?” Her voice broke.

Ben bowed his head, staring at his boots scuffing over the flattened grass. “Riley, I wanted to tell you so badly…”

Is this really happening? Her body felt stiff, uncooperative, like she had forgotten how to walk. His mom…dead. That’s why he canceled his St. Patrick’s visit, why he seemed lost, got so drunk. Why didn’t he say anything? I wish he’d told me! Gathering tears stung her eyes. “Were you with her…when…was she sick?”

“She’s here…” he whispered, stopping in front of a modest gray headstone, simple in design, without cherubs or crosses, and dwarfed by its more expensive neighbors. A burnt tea-light candle in a small mason jar lay tipped over in front.

Oh…! The sight of his mother’s name carved into stone felt like someone had reached into her chest and ripped out her heart. It’s true. Oh God, it’s true. Hot tears spilled down Riley’s cheeks. His dear mom. She leaned into Ben, who remained stoic, but the slight quiver of his chin told Riley he was barely holding himself together. “Oh, Ben,” she whispered into the wind. “I’m so sorry!”

He wiped his nose and let her go, sinking to his knees. He dropped his backpack on the grass and righted the little candle then removed his flowers from the cellophane.

Riley leaned forward, her eyes drifting past Ben’s hair waving messily in the breeze. He looks so alone. I should’ve been here for him. She slowly read the engraving as he lovingly placed the daisies on his mom’s grave.

So beautiful, so Ben. She traced upward again. April 1975 to September 2008—wait. 2008? But… Her breath caught in her throat. She looked at the grass under her flats—grass that hadn’t been dug up for some time. She didn’t die recently? A chill spread through her core, slowing the arrival of fresh tears. “Ben…your mom died…eleven years ago?”

His watery eyes darted over his shoulder. “Riley…” Ben stood up, his fingers curling under the bottom of his vest.

“You lied? I don’t underst—you said—” Her stare narrowed as she stuttered. “You said she was alive! Why…why would you lie about that?”

Ben met her confused, pained glare, his chest chasing breaths. “I knew it was wrong, but…” A wince pulled his head back. “I was trying to…protect you.”

“Protect me?!”

His hands fled to the zipper on his vest and up into his hair, where they roamed and tugged. “Look, everything I told you, about my dad, moving from Scotland, Mr. C—all of it’s true, but me and Mum…” Closing his eyes, he exhaled into a whisper. “I couldn’t…” His lashes flickered open slowly. “Look, I need to tell you now…tell you everything. Please, Riley. Hear me out?”

Anger and sadness whirled in her head. She couldn’t look at him, her gaze dropping to Shannon’s gravestone: ‘Beloved mother of Benjamin’. Her heart ached, revisiting those words. A twist of fate—that’s all that separates me and Ben. If we never met… wouldn’t I be in his shoes? Wouldn’t I be heartbroken, laying flowers beneath ‘Beloved mother of Riley’? She slowly looked up, meeting Ben’s pleading eyes. He needs compassion, not a fight. He’s listened to me…so many times. I owe him that. Her tight-lipped “okay” gave him the go ahead.

“Thank you.” He exhaled, rubbing his forehead in relief. “Me and Mum…we were just like you and Maggie. She was my world and I was hers. We only had each other, so we were inseparable. Even when I was, like, nine or ten, I’d hold her hand, give her a hug at the school gates. I got teased sometimes, other lads called me a mummy’s boy, but sod it.” He shrugged. “There are worse things than being uncool. She was my best friend. It was me and her versus the world, especially after my father made it clear he had no interest…”

I know that feeling well. Riley nodded.

“I loved reading with her. Every Friday lunchtime, she’d go to the library. She’d come home at night, books tucked under her arm, all for me: atlases, books about space, books about animals from faraway places. I think she spotted I had reading problems pretty early on. She took loads of time with me, going over each word. When I was diagnosed with dyslexia, she said it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, said it just meant I had to decipher each word one at a time. The specialist I saw told Mum that, like a lot of kids with dyslexia, I was a sensitive kid—empathetic was the word he used, but I didn’t know what it meant. Mum said it was this amazing superpower—I could see through people. I listen well. I pick up little clues about people’s feelings that someone else would miss. I get it now, but back then, I’d no idea what they were on about with their ‘compassionate listener’ bollocks.”

“It’s not bollocks—you are a great listener.”

“Shame it didn’t impress the school bullies…” He pressed his lips together. “Mum told me over and over, ‘You’re just different, Ben, and different is great!’”

Pulling her coat tighter against the wind, Riley’s expression softened. “She sounds wonderful.”

“Yeah. She always loved me…even when I was naughty. She’d tell me off, I’d apologize for whatever I’d got up to, then she’d give me a cuddle. One time, she dragged me into the kitchen to help her bake. I thought it was punishment, but the more I mucked about, squeezing brown sugar and butter between my fingers, making a right old mess, I began to love it.” His face lit up. “I’d look forward to it. I think it made her happy, us making brownies and biscuits together.” His fingers crept up his right wrist and hooked his bracelet. “Mum always wanted her own bake shop…” Looking away, Ben blew out his cheeks, buying time.

His market stall? A lump grew in Riley’s throat.

“When I was twelve…” He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. “One day, I got in and she was already there, sat on the sofa, waiting. Mum never came home early. Her eyes were puffy, but her makeup was perfect, like she had just reapplied it. I-I wasn’t fooled—I knew she’d been crying and wondered if my father had done something to hurt her again. The year before, Mum had sent him pictures of me in the school play, but he’d sent them back unopened. I shrugged it off, but Mum…I hated how he made her feel unimportant. I went over and gave her a big hug and…” Ben’s breath hitched. “That’s when she told me.”

You never forget that moment. Tears stung Riley’s eyes. Mom waiting at home, after school…my arms full with my science project, an untouched coffee in front of her. Her words suffocating the room, extinguishing the light, shattering my heart…

“We clung to each other.” Tears glistened in Ben’s eyes and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed heavily. “I thought cancer was something old people got, not Mum. She said, ‘We’ll have to be apart, but only for a wee while, Benjamin. The group home will be like a sleepover with kids your age.’ But I didn’t want to hang with some rando kids…I wanted Mum.”

Riley stepped closer, clasping his hand. “You must’ve been so scared.”

He choked back tears. “I couldn’t stop shaking…I-I begged her to let me stay, promised I’d be good, promised I’d look after her, told her ‘We don’t need anyone else.’ She burst into tears and said, ‘But Benjamin, love—this time, we do.’ I buried my face in her neck and sobbed my heart out. I’ve never felt more helpless.”

“Ben, I’m so sorry.” Riley squeezed his hand and sniffed back tears. “Did…did they begin treatments?”

“Yeah. I bawled the first time I saw her after surgery: part relief, part shock. She was totally out of it. Her cheeks were gray. There were tubes everywhere…”

Riley nodded. “It’s so scary.”

Ben pushed his hair off his forehead. “Mum opened her eyes and smiled when she saw me, though, so I held her hand until she fell back asleep. The next visit was better. She told me to hop onto the bed so we could snuggle while I read to her about planets and stars. That became our thing, me reading to her, even when she left hospital and started chemo treatments. It was me looking after her…for a few hours anyway. I was only allowed to visit twice a week.

“Before Halloween, they let me move back home with her. It was the happiest day of my life. Mum was mine again. We baked and played her old records—it was perfect…and then, it wasn’t. She got sick again…ten months later. I went back to the group home. Mum went…” The words caught in his throat. “Into palliative care. I’d cry into my pillow, scared of that phone call in the middle of the night, I missed her so badly, but Mum never came home again, and neither did I.” His voice trembled with tears.

What does that do to a little kid? “Ben…” Riley pulled him into a tight hug, her tears falling quickly.

“I wasn’t with her when she died.” He wept over her shoulder. “I was in fucking PE class and the headmaster pulled me out and marched me back to his office. I knew. I knew before the social worker said a word. I felt it. I felt like something sharp had ripped my heart open…and all the love and everything good spilled out.”

Riley cradled his head with her hands. “Did you…say goodbye?”

“No. They wouldn’t let me see her.” He pulled back from their embrace and more tears slipped down his cheeks. “The social worker drove me home and said to grab what I needed because I couldn’t live there anymore. She had brought Mum’s suitcase from the hospice—the pink dotty one. I was in shock. I had no clue what to do. I flipped it open and found Mum’s photo album, my stuffed turtle, some clothes. I buried my face in her cardigan and that’s when I lost it. Her scent…brought her back to me.” Letting Riley go, he dug in his pocket and found a tissue. “I couldn’t stop crying. I scooped up the rest of her clothes on the floor and curled up in a ball with them. I don’t know how long I was like that. The social worker came back and told me we had to go. All I could think of was packing as much of Mum’s stuff as possible. I put the clothes in the case and opened her old trunk.” He wiped his nose and took a shuddering breath, his tears slowing their descent. “She hid her ‘wee treasures’ in there. I found the eighties t-shirts, her notebook full of recipes, some jewelry.” He lifted the cuff of his hoodie and his thin leather bracelet slid to his wrist.

“It was hers?” Riley touched it gently. “That’s why you never take it off…”

He nodded, pulling his sleeve down. “There was one other thing that meant the world to her. She’d save it for best…that silver bracelet with a puffin charm…”

Riley’s mouth fell open, her eyes darting to her own wrist. “This?”

“Yeah, Mum brought it back from a school trip in northern Scotland.” Ben fidgeted, ripping apart the tissue in his hand. “You love puffins so much, I wanted you to have him…Mum would’ve, too.”

“Oh, Ben…” Holding the little silver bird between her fingers, Riley felt the knots in her shoulders and chest release.

Trembling in the cold wind, Ben’s sad smile faded. “I ran into my bedroom, grabbed some clothes, and found the last birthday card she gave me, but that’s all I took. The social worker said we had to get going and she’d make sure my books and Mr. C’s telescope were sent on to me…but I never saw them or the flat again. I found out later, social had called my father, hoping to place me there, but he didn’t return their messages…I had no one.”

He was just a kid…with nobody left to love him. A deep ache overwhelmed Riley’s chest.

Ben nudged the grass with his boot. “It was raining…the day of her service. It was in the crematorium, over there. The vicar was kind; he asked me about her. Then he stood up and said some nice words, how she was a ‘great mother to Benjamin Fagan,’ how she was with the angels now.” Ben stared off into the distance. “The thing was, I was the only one there, if you don’t count my two social workers and a lovely nurse who treated Mum at the hospice.”

That fear… Riley swallowed heavily. Being entirely alone…I thought about it all the time while Mom was sick, but Ben has LIVED it.

“I rattled around the foster care system until I turned eighteen. I lived with four different families—”

Riley’s eyebrows lifted. “Four?”

“Four years, four homes.” He sniffed and stuffed the shredded tissue in his pocket. “The first foster parents hit me with a belt. The next home was with a thirty-something woman who wasn’t around much—she was just in it for the payments from social services, I think. So, I fended for myself, having cereal almost every night.”

“You must’ve been so lonely, Ben.”

“Yeah, and angry. I missed Mum so badly, I couldn’t stand it. I ran away a few times, got hauled in by the cops for underage drinking. I smoked joints, had sex…didn’t have many friends. When stuff went missing at school, I’d get blamed by the teachers. Back then, I swear I didn’t steal, but I soon figured, ‘Well, if they’re blaming me anyway, might as well get something out of it.’ I knew it was wrong, but…” He shrugged. “When I was sixteen, I joined foster family number three, in Windsor. They were an older couple, proper strict: no computer games, TV for only an hour a night after homework, household chores. They laid down rules, but it felt like they cared, you know? I liked them. We got along pretty well after a few months. I overheard them talking one night about maybe adopting me…”

“But they didn’t?”

“Their next-door neighbor’s daughter…” Ben glanced away. “We…had sex a few times. She got pregnant. I got blamed.” He looked up, gauging Riley’s reaction.

He’s got a kid? She gripped her flowers, trying not to look alarmed.

“They told me having sex at sixteen made me a ‘bad influence’ on their own kids…” He shook his head. “I told them I’d been careful, it couldn’t be mine, but they weren’t having any of it. They called social services, sent me packing. Of course, the real father came forward when the baby was born, but by then I was already with foster family number four. I kept my head down, studied, went to my drama school audition, and counted the days ’til I turned eighteen. I hightailed it on my birthday.

“I know fostering helps lots of kids, but when no one wants you…you turn inward. All I had was my memories…and grief. I was told I’d ‘get over it’, but grief isn’t something you get over, or move on from. Grief sticks. It finds its way into your bones and changes you. I felt like I’d lost myself. I wasn’t Shannon’s son anymore. If Mum could’ve seen me, she wouldn’t have recognized me.” He squinted into the sky, the sun sneaking out from behind a gray cloud. “That August I moved to London for uni, met Mark—the first real friend I had in a bloody long time. Through him I met Spencer and…other girls.” Ben began raking the toe of his boot through a pile of windblown leaves. “I think I was looking for someone who might love me, but…I was pretty fucked up. I confused lust and sex with love. I thought if they fancied me, they cared for me. Took me a while, but I realized the girls most interested in drunk, no-strings sex weren’t going to be there when I felt lost or couldn’t afford bus fare.” He tilted his head, meeting Riley’s sympathetic stare. “It triggered those old feelings of not being loveable, you know? And if I felt anything resembling love, I didn’t trust it. So, I’d have sex and move on, ditch them before they ditched me. Why stick around for rejection? I’ve had more than my fill.” He ran a hand over his frown. “I’m a bit ashamed, looking back. I wasn’t doing it to be an insensitive dick. I was desperate for companionship, even if I didn’t know their names the next morning…”

I called him a fuckboy. Riley’s stomach soured. “Ben, I’m sorry I called you a—”

“Fuckboy? If it quacks like a duck…” The corners of his lips turned up. “No, it’s okay. I own it.” He looked away. “I know it sounds weird, but I think I forgot how to care about anyone, or how it feels to be loved…” His eyes found her again. “And then, this pretty New Yorker stole my suitcase…”

“Uh, you know you’ve got that backward,” said Riley, in on the joke.

He smiled lovingly. “You were like this rare, beautiful comet lighting up the dark sky. You helped me find my way again… helped me find myself again. You saved me.”

Her eyes dropped to the ground and her grin broke free, his kind words and the feel of his unwavering gaze raising a warm blush to her cheeks.

“If you’d left me in the shitty strip club that night, God knows where I’d be…what I’d have done.” He reached up, freeing a rogue leaf from her ponytail. “I owe you so much…”

Lifting her chin, she caught his eyes. “Well, I owe you more—Mom and I both do.”

A wistful look washed over his face. “That day up on the rock in Central Park, you went to get ice creams and were laughing with the vendor. I remember looking down at you and thinking I could never get tired of that smile. I pulled out my phone and saw Maggie’s crowdfunding page on Facebook. It floored me. I didn’t know what to do or say. All that fear, the helplessness I had when I lost my mum, it all came flooding back…”

Riley gripped Ben’s hand tightly as he continued.

“I know it was stupid, but I thought it was the right thing at the time, just a little white lie. I wanted you to know I’d been through something similar, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell you the truth. I didn’t want to be that person—the idiot who tells someone in the middle of the battle, ‘Oh, yeah, my mum had cancer. She had surgery, chemo, but none of it worked and she died.’”

He refused to be a Grim Reaper—he was just trying to protect my heart.

“You didn’t need to hear my unhappy ending, Riley. I wanted you to keep fighting for her, still have hope. So…I said Mum had beaten her cancer, because—God’s honest truth—I wanted that for you and Maggie, more than anything in the world…”

A surge of warmth—gratitude—filled her chest. Riley pulled him into a tight embrace, fresh tears in her eyes. “Ben, I don’t like lying, but…” He didn’t do it maliciously; he knows what it’s like—losing hope when the odds are against you. “I understand why you did it. You were sparing me more hurt. You were trying to be kind…”

Ben held her in his arms, his head on her shoulder. “I think…sometimes…it’s easier to help someone else with their pain than to deal with your own, you know?” Pulling back, a gentle smile softened Ben’s face again. “And I was already falling in love with you—so badly. That mad feeling…it knocked me sideways.” He laughed, playfully. “I was giddy and dopey, wanting to be around you all the bloody time. I’d fight dragons—NO!—I’d pick up spiders for you and…” His grin faded, a hushed tone imbuing his voice. “Lie about the worst day of my life…if it would help lift you up.” A sigh passed his lips as he let her go and slid his hand around hers, his thumb strumming her skin. “Riley, I love you so much, you know that, right? You’re my everything.”

And you’re mine. A rush of goose bumps rose underneath her parka. All the tender moments they’d shared, cherished in memory, wrapped around her heart. She gave his hand a squeeze. “I love you, too.”

Ben squeezed it back. “That day, when you told me Maggie’s blood type? I know we’d only been going out for a little while, but…I can’t really explain it. It’s like I knew I could help her, and it was maybe, you know…a second chance. There was nothing I could do for my mum, but I felt like maybe I was meant to meet you and Maggie when I did. Sounds daft, I know…”

“No, it doesn’t.” Riley’s offered an understanding smile.

Ben slowly shook his head in frustration. “I didn’t mean to do any harm, but the longer it went on, the lie sorta took on a life of its own. I was afraid you’d dump me the second I told you the truth. When you called to celebrate six months post-op, I behaved terribly, and I’m so sorry. I was actually over the moon that you might be moving here for work, but I was afraid you’d ask to meet Mum if you came. It all started to eat away at me. So, I decided if you didn’t get the job, I’d tell you and Maggie in June, face to face when I visited New York, and if you did come over, I swore I’d do the right thing and bring you…here.” He glanced at his mother’s gravestone, his face crinkling into a worried frown. “I can only imagine what Maggie will think when she finds out. If she doesn’t want anything to do with me, I’ll understand—”

“Ben, it’s okay.” Riley released his hand and stepped closer, her heart pounding, screaming in her chest—just kiss him!—but she didn’t, taking his face in her hands instead. “We’ll explain it to Mom. She’ll understand…just like I do.” As she stroked her fingers delicately over his cheeks, Ben’s worried expression faded, replaced by a soft grin. “But, please, no more secrets, okay?”

He rested his hands on her waist. “Definitely, no more secrets. It’s a huge relief, actually, telling you…” A soft breath left his lips. “Riles, I miss her so much.”

“Ben.” Riley gathered him in, desperate to ease his pain. “I can only imagine…”

Safe within her embrace, he gave in to his grief. “You know, it’s always there, under the surface. Some days—Mother’s Day, her birthday—I brace myself, knowing it’s gonna be bad, but it’s weird—a regular day can feel worse. I’ll be in a shop and hear a song she loved or see someone wearing a coat like hers and…” His voice cracked. “It breaks me so hard. It just comes at me and I can’t stop it…” His hand swiped tears from his eyes. “I miss telling her my good news and hearing her laugh. I know it sounds daft, but I keep our old number in my phone. I like seeing it there.”

Stroking Ben’s back, Riley nodded. “My mom carries her dad’s driver’s license in her wallet. She can’t part with it. She talks to him sometimes, too.”

“Oh, I do that—all the time. I don’t need a church or a grave, I just…wherever I am, I share how I’m doing, how much I love her, and…how much I love you.” He pulled back, meeting her eyes.

An ache stirred inside Riley’s chest. Five months, three days and…too many hours! Just KISS HIM! Slowly breathing him in, her lips joined his, the softness of his mouth feeling like home. Ben’s hands shifted upward, pressing through her bulky parka like he couldn’t hold her close enough. From the tenderness of his kiss, his eager embrace, Riley knew Ben was as devoted to her as she was to him. She leaned back, smiling as his hair danced in the wind across his forehead.

“I’ve never kissed in a cemetery before. Have you?”

“Um…” Ben bit his lip.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then!’ They shared a quiet laugh.

Ben gently swept a lost eyelash from Riley’s cheek. “But I’ve never been in love in one…until now.”

“Well, that makes two of us.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, the touch of her fingers reveling in his hair, eliciting a groan of longing from his lips.

“You don’t know how good it feels to hear that.” Ben nuzzled her ear and a new burst of goose bumps tickled her skin, causing her to shiver against him. “That wind is picking up. Want to head back?”

“When you’re ready.”

Ben pulled back slightly. “We could go to mine. Spencer’s away on a hen weekend—”

“YES!” Riley flinched at her own outburst. “I mean…yeah, that would be great.” More than great.

He laughed, pressing a smiley kiss to her mouth, and let her go. “I’ll call a cab.”

Riley watched him on his phone, chatting with the dispatcher. He looked happy, relaxed—his old self again. I owe Shannon so much. She removed the plastic on her daisies and kneeled down. “Thank you…for sending him to me,” she whispered, setting her flowers beside Ben’s. “I promise Ben will never be alone again.”