Page 83 of Until the Last Star Fades

A single mother to Riley, a senior in college, Maggie wants nothing more than to spend more time with her daughter, walking shelter dogs, baking, and reading.

I have created this crowdfunding page to help Maggie achieve ‘third time lucky’ and beat cancer, once and for all. No donation is too small, and each one is greatly appreciated. Please help Maggie’s fight with a donation or by sharing this message with your friends and family. Thank you.

Ben felt a wave of regret and sadness wash over him. His thoughts flashed back to just a few hours earlier, and their walk up Seventh Avenue. Were you trying to tell me? Fuck! You must feel so scared, lonely…that lost look in your eyes, talk of escaping—it all makes sense now.

He spied the crowdfunding donation list. A goal of $15,000 was set with only $840 raised so far—$20 each from Piper and Casey, $200 from a Mrs. Paisley—Piper’s mom?—plus $100 from Leia and $500 from Erika. That total probably wouldn’t pay for a ride in an ambulance.

Looking up, he saw Riley skipping along the pavement, ice creams held high. What do I say? Ben swallowed heavily and tucked his phone away.

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.