Until The Last Star Fades

by Jacquelyn Middleton

  “I love you, too, and I want you to know…” With a peaceful smile, he swept the tears from her face and caressed her damp cheek. “I’ve never loved any one ’til you,” he whispered. “You were so worth the wait, Hope. You’re my first, my always.”

  You’re my last, my always. Riley gasped and met his lips, sharing a lingering kiss flavored with salty tears. She hoped Ben’s final memory before going under would be of kisses and plans for their future together, not tears and worry over what could go wrong. She smiled softly and squeezed his hand. “As soon as you’re feeling better, we’ll tackle that to-do list: dinner at that pub in London, go see a-ha in concert somewhere, see a play at the Old Vic Theatre…”

  “It’s a date, gorgeous.” Ben punctuated his promise with a wink that released a tear.

  Riley let go of his hand to dry his cheek, but the bed moved forward and Ben was no longer within reach.

  Fifty-Five

  Curled up on a couch, a copy of Emma on her lap, Riley didn’t realize a worried frown had taken up residence on her face. She twirled her ring round her finger. At this rate, I’m going to be completely gray by the time they’re both out of surgery.

  “Rye…it must be going well.” Sitting beside Riley, Piper licked her finger and flicked a glossy page of a waiting room magazine. “Seven hours, no word. No news is good, right?” She glanced at Casey sitting across from them, a venti quad, no-whip, extra hot mocha with coconut milk, caramel drizzle, and extra butterscotch topping hovering by his lips.

  “Pip! Don’t lick your finger in here. God knows where that magazine has been!”

  “Case, if this place is such a nightmare, go outside, hit up Walgreen’s, and bring back Swedish Fish, Funyuns, and Fanta.”

  “Hello? What’s my number one rule?” Scrolling his phone, Casey grimaced. “I never buy food where sick people shop.”

  Piper loudly flicked another page.

  “Hey, have you seen the crowdfunding page?” Casey raised an eyebrow. “It’s over twenty thousand dollars now. Mark’s fans are a bloody army!”

  “Keeganites rock,” said Riley.

  “I still can’t believe you got to meet him.” Piper tossed her head back against the sofa, bored. “Anything interesting in Ben’s bag of junk?”

  “I haven’t looked.” Riley had felt so guilty looking through his phone contacts, she didn’t even think about snooping through his belongings.

  “Heard from the princess?” Piper enquired as she yawned, referring to Erika.

  “She’s still honeymooning, and kinda out of the loop.” Riley’s phone buzzed in her tote. “She doesn’t know about the transplant.”

  “How?!”

  “You know better than to ask that, Pip.” Casey sneered like he smelled something rotten. “Erika’s all about Erika. Bridezilla-itis only made it worse.”

  “To be fair, I didn’t tell her.” Riley dug into her tote, rifling past Ben’s phone to find her own.

  Casey shook his head. “Yeah, because what’s the point?”

  Riley looked at a long text running off the screen. Speak of the devil. It wasn’t like Erika to reach out during a self-indulgent vacation.

  Hey. Life as we know it is over! Chillin on beach and Scott’s agent texted. Scotty’s been traded! To WINNIPEG. I HATE the cold, what am I going to—

  Woah! Traded? Riley stopped reading. But…jeez, the sky’s not falling. Trades are part of hockey—she knows that! I’ll answer later. She spied two other texts. Ben? That buzz in my bag before they took him away…was him?

  Ben’s first text: Riles!!! Look inside my bag—for a bag!!!!

  She giggled. You’ve got to be kidding me.

  Piper stared over Riley’s arm. “That boy uses too many exclamation marks.”

  Riley reached inside, past his bracelet and clothes. She pulled out a white paper bag with thick Sharpie writing on the side: WAITING ROOM BOREDOM KIT. Ben made me a care package! Contents included: an apple, two packages of Reese’s, a bottle of grape Fanta, a Keroppi PEZ, a small bag of Funyuns, and three packets of Fun Dip. Her hand searched inside again, touching something plastic. She peeked—the gallbladder from the surgeon’s office! BEN! She left it in the bag and grabbed a roll of candy. Smarties? No, it’s bigger. She pulled it out, and Ben’s accent swirled in her head. “Once you go Brit, you just can’t quit.”

  “LOVE HEARTS? British ones!” Piper’s hand dove toward the bag.

  Opening an end of the roll, Riley pulled out pale-colored candies exclaiming, ‘Ever Yours’, ‘Be Happy’, and one that featured a winking emoji. She put the wink in her mouth, catching the next message waiting inside the roll—‘Don’t Cry’.

  “Aw, lucky ducky.” Piper held out her hand. “Can I see?”

  Savoring the sweet lemon candy melting on her tongue, Riley handed over the roll and shared the peanut butter cups with Casey. She checked Ben’s second text, three new songs joining his growing ‘4 Riles!!!’ text playlist:

  “Doctor, Doctor” by The Thompson Twins

  “I Just Can’t Stop Loving You” by Michael Jackson

  “Absolute Beginners” by David Bowie

  She rooted in her tote for her earbuds.

  “Riley?”

  She jolted, almost dropping her tote and Ben’s plastic bag. Dr. Ricer walked toward her, his light green surgical mask untied and hanging down on the chest of his scrubs.

  “Yes!” She sat up. Piper nervously stuffed several Love Hearts in her mouth, and Casey chewed the brim of his empty cup.

  “Ben’s surgery went well. He lost some blood so we gave him a transfusion, but he’s now resting in recovery and will be taken to the surgical intensive care unit.”

  Thank God! Happy tears stung Riley’s eyes.

  “That’s a relief,” said Casey as Piper blew out her cheeks.

  “Can I see him?” asked Riley.

  “Soon. Once he’s awake, a nurse will take you to him.”

  Riley accepted a tissue from Casey. “Any news on my mom?”

  “It’s going as planned. Her surgeon will be able to tell you more once she’s in recovery, but she’ll still be a few hours. Do you have any questions?”

  She shook her head. “Thank you for taking care of Ben.”

  “He’s young and strong. He’ll be sore for a bit, but he’s over the worst part.” He nodded and left the room.

  Piper waited to speak until he was out of sight. “Rye, did you buy a naughty nurse costume?”

  Casey rolled his eyes as Riley threw Piper a tired smile. “No, Pip, it completely slipped my mind.”

  “It’s okay, babe—I’ll lend you mine,” said Piper, winking theatrically as she moved in to hug her best friend.

  Monitors beeped and flashed their lights as Ben groggily blinked, his eyes hazy and unable to focus. “Heyyyyy…” His hand lazily swatted at the tube in his nose. A second tube, thinner and more flexible with prongs for each nostril, was out of place and blowing oxygen below his lips.

  “Hey you.” Riley leaned over the bedside railing, a smile brightening her whisper as she brushed his hair from his eyes. “Thanks for the Love Hearts and the…uh…gallbladder.”

  His hand pawed his nose again.

  “Benjamin, you’ve got to keep your hands away from your face.” The surgical intensive care nurse, an older Filipino woman with a shock of bright blue in her gray hair, placed the oxygen prongs back in each of Ben’s nostrils. “If you do it again, I’ll have to put you in wrist restraints, you understand?”

  His lips curved up, feeling no pain as his watery gaze landed on Riley. “Ooooooooo…yassss, tie…tie meee UP…” His scratchy voice dissolved into a dopey giggle.

  Riley tried to stifle a laugh unsuccessfully.

  “We’ve got a live one here.” The nurse winked at Riley. “He might settle down a bit if you hold his hand, keep talking to him.”

  “Oh, good. I wanted to.”

  “The oxygen is just a precaution, but the nasogastric tube in his nose shouldn’t be
pulled.” The nurse adjusted Ben’s pillows, propping him up higher. “It goes down into his stomach and helps keep it empty. We don’t want him throwing up. Ants in his pants aside, he’s a good kid.”

  Riley nodded and held his hand, careful not to touch the tape and tubing from his IV. She smiled. “Ben, you did good.”

  “Yaaaaaay.” He tried a shaky fist pump, but his rubbery arm flopped down on the blanket. “Soooo, I neva donut an orgun bfoe…” Woozy but determined, he swallowed a few times and wouldn’t shut up. “I ’ave more neva-duns than yooo. Game ova. I-I wwwin, Wiles.”

  “Yeah, you win, Ben.” And so do I, because you came back to me—you kind, unselfish boy. She kissed his stubbly cheek, and a crooked smile slowly crept across his face.

  A few hours later, a nurse retrieved Riley from Ben’s bedside and took her to the intensive care unit. The ICU was similar to where Ben was resting, but the care was reserved for the hospital’s most fragile patients. Visiting hours and patient monitoring were more controlled, and the row of small, private rooms were eerily quiet apart from the soft beeps of medical devices.

  Relief and hope swirled in Riley’s chest. I can’t wait to see her! A few days here and then she moves to the transplant recovery floor. Then, she’ll start to feel better—hopefully, cancer-free.

  Holding her breath, Riley peeked into Maggie’s small, dimly lit ICU room.

  Mom…?

  All the questions in Riley’s head, the hunger in her belly—everything hit pause.

  Her mother looked so tiny and pale.

  The jolt drew tears to Riley’s eyes.

  Tethered to several glowing monitors, Maggie slept in the middle of a web of cords, tubes, and cables that crisscrossed the bed. The trail of wiry, tangled spaghetti leading from her hands, arms, and chest constantly fed information back to the nurses’ station. A plastic tube similar to Ben’s was inserted in one nostril, whisking away fluids from her stomach. More cords—a catheter and three drainage tubes in her abdomen—snaked away from the blankets, but it was the ventilator that had Riley reeling. Despite being warned by the nurse, the image of her strong-willed, vibrant mom with lips parted by a large breathing tube, and her chest inflating and falling like clockwork—was a shock. “It’s normal, only for a few days,” the nurse had said, but the reality of seeing her mom breathing with the help of a machine was frightening, no matter the nurse’s explanation.

  The windowless space gave no hint at the time or weather outside. Life elsewhere didn’t exist. Riley’s uneasy fingers played with her puffin charm. She didn’t know what else to do.

  “Your mom will be asleep for a while,” said the ICU nurse, jotting down new readings on Maggie’s chart. “But she’s doing well. You can stay as long as you like.”

  “Thank you.” Riley grinned softly as the nurse left them alone.

  She pulled a well-worn chair to the bedside and covered Maggie’s cold hand with her own. “Mom, I’m here.” Seeing her mother lying motionless brought goose bumps to her skin. Maggie didn’t do still—ever.

  “Ben’s okay and they said you’re doing great…no complications,” Riley whispered, laying her head on the blanket. “Third time lucky, Mom…you did it.”

  Fifty-Six

  The next six weeks were a rollercoaster of pain, appointments, and boredom for Ben and Maggie, and a blur of worry, long commutes, and skipped meals for Riley. Life in the post-transplant bubble was hard and tiring with plenty of tears and a few short (pain-induced) fuses. Still, Riley wouldn’t have traded the rocky path for anything. Each day was a gift, and every night before she curled up beside Ben in Maggie’s foldout couch, she said a silent thank you for her mom’s third chance at life and the extraordinary British boy who’d given it to her.

  Putting away groceries while Maggie finished her shower, Riley giggled. Ben’s favorites shared shelf space with hers: Frosties and Reese’s Puffs, smooth and crunchy peanut butter, grapes and apples, all side-by-side. In a way, it felt like they were playing house, especially before Maggie’s discharge from hospital, when it was just the two of them.

  Released six days after his operation, Ben had moved into her mom’s Staten Island apartment. Maggie wouldn’t be discharged for another eight days due to a wound infection and a reaction to her anti-rejection drugs. Riley suspected that without supervision, Ben would get in all sorts of trouble. He had already been caught twice trying to lift his backpack at the hospital (lifting anything heavy could open his incision and jeopardize healing), and he regularly forgot to use the handheld incentive spirometer, a plastic gadget for breathing exercises. Abdominal surgery patients found coughing, sneezing, and deep breathing painful post-op, and this toy-like ‘game’ helped clear lungs of mucus and hopefully kept pneumonia away. To keep Ben in check, Riley left Piper and St. Mark’s Place, temporarily moving back in. When she wasn’t at her BBC internship or working shifts at Sephora, she cooked healthy meals, took Ben for slow walks around the neighborhood, and challenged him to board game tournaments. It almost felt idyllic apart from the pain meds, the ban on sex, and the absence of greasy foods from their diet—chicken dinosaurs and smiley face potatoes had been temporarily axed, doctor’s orders. But, this latest grocery shop was the last of its kind. Maggie was doing well enough to be on her own, and Ben was itching for more privacy. He’d be moving back to Hunter’s, and Riley would be returning to her East Village shoebox by the end of the week.

  A text landed on her phone from Ben. Back soon x

  Daily walks were part of both Ben and Maggie’s recovery regime, but today, Ben’s stroll was productive, picking up goodbye tiger lilies for Piper.

  Riley’s heart sank. I can’t believe the day’s come. Piper’s really leaving.

  It seemed like yesterday, Piper bursting into their narrative television production workshop squealing, “They want my puppets on their show! October in LA, baby!” Back in April, it felt like a distant promise, something at the far end of summer, but tonight, her best friend was flying home to Chicago for a quick pit stop before heading west to follow her TV dream. Riley had no doubts—Piper would eventually rule children’s television production, one adorable puppet at a time.

  She watered the orchid Erika and Scott had sent over before they rushed north to Winnipeg, replaced the water in the weekly Gerbera delivery from Alex and Mark, and opened up the ‘Good Luck’ card waiting to be signed on the counter. I’m so proud of Pip, but that won’t fill the hole in my heart from missing her.

  She cleared her throat and picked up a pen. Once Maggie was ready and Ben was back with the bouquet, they would be meeting her for lunch one last time.

  A key clicked the lock. Ben’s back. Riley kept writing.

  “Riles?” He sounded distressed.

  She dropped the pen and turned around. “What’s wrong?”

  “Gimme a hand?” Ben’s face was hidden by an enormous vase of pink lilies, Gerberas, and roses.

  “Uh, you went a little overboard!” She took the vase from his arms. “And it weighs a ton! Ben, you still can’t lift heavy stuff.”

  “It’s not from me. I met a delivery bloke outside.” Wincing, Ben reached over his shoulder and rubbed his aching upper back, a lingering side effect of slouched posture. For the first three weeks post-surgery, Ben’s abs had hurt when he stood or sat up straight, the nerves and muscles unhappy to be stretched. To avoid that pain, he’d hunch over, but now he was paying the price. “They’re for you, I think?” A small wrapped bundle of tiger lilies for Piper dangled in a shopping bag from Ben’s forearm.

  “Me? From who?” Riley set the monster bouquet on the table and pulled out a thank you note-sized envelope that was nestled in the blooms. “Someone has a lot to say…” She opened the letter and started reading the unfamiliar handwriting.

  Riley, my apologies for not sending my wishes sooner. The flowers are for your mom, but please keep reading—this note is for you.

  “Who sent them?” Ben looked over her shoulder.

  Erika
’s been busy settling in Winnipeg, so I only heard about your mom’s transplant yesterday. Please accept these flowers along with my sincerest hopes for a swift and complete recovery. I know how close you two are and can only imagine how stressful and scary it must’ve been the last few weeks.

  Riley turned the notepaper over. Ben squinted at the bottom of the page. “Seriously?”

  I’m taking time away to figure things out. I’ve started divorce proceedings against Tyler. Maybe when I’m back in NYC, you and I could go for lunch (my treat). I’ve always admired your strength, Riley, and I’m so sorry we got off on the wrong foot. You were RIGHT about Ty, of course. I should’ve had more self-respect than to let him treat me so badly. I doubled (tripled!) down, going cold on anyone who called him out for what he was, because I was still clinging to the hope that I’d be the one who changed him. It’s a rotten excuse, and so unforgivable on many levels, but I hope it’s not too late for us to be friends.

  “That’s big of her.” Ben scratched his chin.

  Anyway, before I moved out, I cleared out our joint accounts. I’ve donated today (properly) to your mom’s crowdfunding page. If I’m going to make Tyler pay for all the pain he’s caused, what better way than to share the money with someone who would benefit most. I hope it helps make life a little easier for her. Moms are precious, and you know that better than anyone.

  Take care, Riley.

  Much love, Leia xo

  “Wow!” Riley lowered the paper, dumbfounded. “I know we made our peace at the wedding, but I never expected this.”

  “Bloody hell. How much did she give?” Ben whipped out his phone, opening up the bookmarked site. “Blimey O’Riley!” He showed her the screen, holding his stomach as he laughed in disbelief. “She donated ten thousand dollars! She’s pushed the total past forty-two thousand! You’ve more than doubled your goal.”

  Riley, Ben, Maggie, Casey, and Piper filled several oversized armchairs in Beans & Leaves, a Staten Island café famous for its Belgian waffles. They toasted Casey on beginning his master’s, laughed at Ben’s retelling of his numerous hospital gown malfunctions, and congratulated Riley on her job news from the day before—after three rounds of interviews, she had accepted the assistant job supporting the VP of TV sales and co-productions in the BBC’s New York office. Despite feeling fatigued, Maggie grinned the entire time. Nothing was going to mute her joy. She had her daughter and her health was returning—life had never tasted as good.