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“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.

Shannon Catherine Weir

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.

Shannon Catherine Weir

April 18, 1975 – September 6, 2008

Beloved mother of Benjamin

“Love you until the last star fades”

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?”