Seventy-One
Riley and Ben achieved a new record—within seconds of slamming the door of Spencer’s tiny flat, they were naked and lip-locked and tangled in each other on his unmade single bed. While a tour of his London home would’ve been nice, Riley didn’t care. All she wanted to see was Ben liberated from his boxer briefs. After their hour-long taxi/train/Underground journey (where their amorous acrobatics were limited to a full-on snog and under-the-parka, over-the-clothes touching), her self-control had been pushed to its limits on the Victoria line.
Ben didn’t leave the Underground unruffled, either. Despite making it his mission to tease Riley into a pent-up frenzy, Ben’s desire for his girlfriend got the better of him—he exited the Tube station carrying his backpack in front of his crotch.
Behind closed doors, the promise of a slow, sensuous reunion dissolved into a desperate quickie of open mouths, arching hips, and fisted bedsheets. In the heady aftermath, Ben’s small room looked like it had been ransacked: a once-orderly stack of books lay in a pile of literary rubble, discarded clothes were scattered everywhere, and the bedframe’s incessant banging knocked a framed photo of Riley off the wall to the threadbare carpet. Even his small floor lamp was upended.
Happy? Euphoric? Sex drunk?! Yes, THAT’S how I feel! I’ve missed him, how I feel with him. Lightheaded and breathless, Riley flopped backward onto the crumpled sheets and discovered why Ben always slept on the right side of the mattress. “Oww!”
He looked over his shoulder, the damp sheen of exertion glistening on his back. “Careful now, Riles. I told you, this mattress bites.” He laughed as he dropped the used condom in his empty bedside bin.
Not even a painful spring could deflate Riley’s orgasmic high. Taking delight in Ben’s toned backside, she raised an eyebrow and hugged herself, the bliss of finally having skin-against-skin sex after five months apart still coursing through her body. “Benjamin,” she purred. “Come back here.”
Ben snickered, searching for his underwear. “If you want a nice home-cooked supper tonight and more of this”—he waved his hands over his body like it was a prize on a TV game show—“you gotta let me pop to the shops for groceries and more condoms.”
“Didn’t that restroom vending machine give you more than one?”
“Nope. Stingy fucker.” Ben leaned over, setting the broken floor lamp back onto its feet.
Watching him at the end of the bed, Riley ached for the weight of him moving over her again. “Don’t go yet. Kiss me—now.” She eased up on her elbows, daring him to come back.
Ben’s eyes swept over her pale skin, bathed in a sliver of streetlight, creeping past his polyester curtains. “Bossy.” He laughed. “And that’s a compliment!” He climbed back onto the bed and lay between Riley’s thighs, leaving gentle kisses first, then warm licks and sucks, each teasing flick of his tongue pushing Riley’s hands farther into his hair.
Ben lifted his head, a cheeky glint in his eyes. “Argh—you’re getting me all riled up again. Sorry, you’ll have to wait for more, missy!” He shifted up, pressing brief kisses along her chest and her neck, finally reaching her mouth. He smiled into a long, deep kiss as Riley’s hand slipped past the scar on his abdomen, curling around where he was eager and ready for another round.
With kisses and caresses, they spoke to each other in sighs, thankful their love was stronger than any ocean or secret conspiring to keep them apart.
Riley’s lips brushed Ben’s. “I think I’m going to like London—a lot!” They shared a chuckle as her finger traced the two hollow stars tattooed beneath the curve of his left collarbone. The beautiful sentiment from his mom’s gravestone tugged at her heart. Until the last star fades… “I used to think this tattoo was a tribute to astronomy or that crazy Equinox TV series you geek out about, but…it’s for your mom, isn’t it?”
He nodded, a wistfulness in his eyes. “Yeah. It’s me and her. This way, she’s always with me. I don’t get to the cemetery as much as I used to, only birthdays and Christmas, really.” He propped himself up on his elbow. “I want to make her proud. It’s why I’ve been working so hard with Love Bites—it feels like I’m doing it for her as much as me. I’ve even started taking orders for weddings.”
“No way!”
“Yeah! First one was before Christmas. A customer took my details and hired me to make brownie wedding favors. Then, three of her guests, called me up for three different corporate parties in the City. I ended up baking all night and rolled into Waterstones half asleep, but it was so worth it! Those jobs turned into more bookings and they just keep coming, mostly word of mouth, referrals. Riles, if demand keeps growing like this, I might be able to do Love Bites full-time, maybe get a small shop, even…”
Her hand flew up to meet her smile. “That would be perfect!”
“I know! And I’m doing everything by the books. I’ve met with a bloke at the bank, I drew up a proper business plan over Skype with Hunter, and Mo has been giving me advice. He started with one market stall five years ago, and now he’s got three stalls, two shops, and online sales, too! His son is a website wiz, so he’s been working on my new site. It goes live next month!”
“Ben, this is amazing! Can you…imagine what your mom would say?”
“Hmm, she might be a wee bit proud…and hopefully you are, too?” He raised an expectant eyebrow.
“Like you have to ask!” She planted a kiss on his forehead. “I wish I could’ve met her.”
“Oh, she would’ve loved you…and Maggie. I—oh!” Ben froze. “Just give me…” He rolled over and off the bed, his hand zeroing in on the envelope Maggie had sent over for his mom. It sat on a narrow shelf screwed to the wall. The a-ha record, two birthday cards, the Equinox Ten boxset, a much-loved stuffed turtle, and the swiped plastic gallbladder were the only other residents. “Maybe you can sorta meet her…” Envelope in hand, he sat back on the bed.
“But that’s my mom’s note—she wrote it to your mom.” Riley looked confused.
He pulled away a second envelope, stuck to the back of Maggie’s. “It sticks to everything. Mum sealed it with tape. She always went overboard—took me ten minutes to open a Christmas present once.” He flipped it over, placing it in her hand. “Here.”
For Benjamin. Riley stared at the swirly handwriting; its penmanship matched the B. Something tag on his pink suitcase. “What is it?”
“It’s the letter Mum wrote me…before she died.” He nodded. “You can read it…if you want to.”
“I can’t read it. It’s private.”
“Well, suit yourself, but she wouldn’t mind.” He leaned forward and kissed her temple then gathered his blankets into a cozy nest around her. “Now that you’re snug as a bug in a rug, I’m running out to the shop. I’ll get some basics: bread, eggs, bacon…oh, and prawn cocktail crisps—you’ll like those! Be right back, ’kay?”
She nodded, her eyes falling back to the envelope.
Ben shimmied into his boxer briefs and inched along the small pathway between the bed and the wall until he located his jeans, t-shirt, and hoodie, all buried under his books. Blowing Riley a kiss, he left the room and the flat, the door locking behind him.
Heart heavy, her tentative fingers slipped inside the envelope and pulled out a folded piece of paper, its edge jagged from where it had been torn from a spiral notebook. Taking a deep breath, she began to read.
9 August 2008
My darling Benjamin,
I’m sitting in your room with a pen and notebook, writing you this letter. I’m happiest here. I love your room so much; it’s the heart of our home. I can hear your cheeky laugh, feel the warmth of your hugs. Your cherished possessions—your astronomy books, Mr. C’s telescope, the chessboard I gave you last year, stuffed turtle, even the half-eaten packet of prawn cocktail crisps (Oh, Benjamin, those stinky crisps!)—make me feel closer to you. I just want to take it all in, remember every precious moment with you until you return from the library, books under your arm and stories to tell, and then I’ll hug you like there’s no tomorrow…like I’ve done a million times before…and put this letter away for you, my beautiful boy, to read after I’m gone.
I’ve never wanted for anything except more time with you. Fourteen years isn’t enough, but then neither would twenty, forty, or sixty. Sometimes the heart wants what it can’t have.
I always thought I’d see you go on your first date, graduate from school, get married, but I’ll miss all those milestones. That thought makes my heart ache, worse than any pain I’ve ever felt.
There are so many things I wanted to do, wanted to say…but I’m running out of time. I hope this note will give you comfort and guidance when I can’t, my love. It’s a collection of little things to remember, and maybe when you do, you’ll remember me, too.
Benjamin, always be polite. Say please and thank you, hold doors open for others, take your shoes off when entering someone’s home. It’s common courtesy (except I don’t think it’s very common anymore). Be the exception.
I want you to try new things whenever you can. If you feel nervous, that’s good! It means what you’re doing matters to you.
Always be open to new friendships. The person you chat with in line at the supermarket might become your best friend or even your soul mate.
Don’t feel that you need to be fashionable, cool, or rich to matter. None of those things will make you happier, not really.
Don’t compromise what you believe in your heart just to be popular. It’s better to stand alone and be true to yourself than in a crowd, regretting your choices.
It’s okay to have dessert for dinner—or eat more than one slice of cake! (Just not every day, okay?)
You already do this, but a gentle reminder can’t hurt. Brush your teeth at least twice a day. See a dentist. Girls won’t kiss you if your teeth are nasty (or missing—trust me on that one!).
Be wary of falling for someone who wants to change who you are, because that’s not the person you’re meant to be with.
Explore! See the world. Even a visit to a new town will open your eyes and introduce you to new people. A simple ‘hello’ could change your life.
Bake (and use ALL the chocolate chips!)
Dance, my darling. Dance like it’s “1999”! (Prince rocks, and so did 1982).
Big dreams are never silly. They help soothe a bad day and give us something to reach for.
One day, you’ll probably own a mobile phone. Please don’t walk and text—you’ll hurt yourself and others in your path. Plus, you’ll miss out on the amazing things happening around you. Be present, Benjamin. Put the phone down and engage with life.
Failure isn’t a bad thing. It can hurt, but it’s how we learn, how we figure out what’s right for us. I’d rather you try and fail than never try at all.
You can never say ‘I love you’ enough, and the people you love can never hear it too much. Say it warmly, say it often.
If you believe in nothing else, please believe in love. It can make miracles happen.
You’re so much braver than you think you are.
Grief might make you turn inward for a while, but please, my love, try to look outward. Embrace your superpower; listen carefully. Look for people who might be hurting, who are silent in their pain and aren’t asking for help. The best way to heal yourself is to help someone else.
Benjamin, please don’t be sad for me or angry that your father left. The love I was supposed to find wasn’t his; it was yours. Always yours. You’ve made my life so happy, so full—my funny, brave, thoughtful son. I’m so proud of the young man you’ve grown to become.
Please don’t be scared. I’ll be there by your side and I’ll love you until the last star fades.
Love, Mum
xoxoxoxox
Gasping through tears, Riley folded Ben’s cherished letter, her heart heavy with sorrow and loss for an extraordinary woman she loved but would never meet.