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‘She asked me to come in and sit on her bed, and I wouldn’t. I stayed by the door, looking like I was itching to get away, which I was.’ Olivia drew in a choking breath. ‘And she said, “Livvy, I love you so much. You know that, don’t you?”’ The silence of that unanswered question hung in the air between them, echoed terribly inside Olivia. ‘Do you know what I said?’ she whispered, and wordlessly Ben drew her back into his arms. ‘Nothing,’ she said dully, and closed her eyes. ‘I didn’t answer at all. I didn’t tell her I knew, or that I loved her back. I just sloped off to my room and when I woke up the next morning she was dead.’
Ben’s arms tightened around her as she sobbed into his shoulder, holding nothing back. She hadn’t cried like this, hadn’t let herself cry like this, since her mother had died. Some part of her had insisted she didn’t deserve to cry, didn’t have the right to grief, not when she’d been so horribly selfish. But she knew she needed to cry, to let it all out. Finally.
Eventually the tears subsided and Olivia remained there, her cheek still resting against Ben’s shoulder. She felt as exhausted as if she’d just run a marathon. And she supposed she had, in a way. An emotional marathon.
After a long moment Ben eased back and, brushing the damp strands of hair away from her face, looked down at her. ‘I’m glad you told me,’ he said quietly. ‘And I’m going to tell you the same kind of thing you told me. What you did when you were twelve, when you were scared and sad and under pressure, doesn’t define or reveal you.’
‘She was my mother, my mom...’
‘And why do you think you avoided her?’ Ben asked.
‘Because I hated seeing her like that. Shrivelled and wasting away. It scared me so much, because I knew it meant she would leave me.’ The words bubbled up from a hidden place deep inside her. ‘So I suppose I tried to pretend it wasn’t happening, even though I knew it hurt her.’
‘And don’t you think that’s at least a little understandable? If it was someone else, some other twelve-year-old girl, wouldn’t you give her a break?’
‘Maybe,’ Olivia admitted, even though she knew she never would have judged someone else in the same position. ‘But it’s different because it’s me. And my mother. Because I can still see the look on her face when she told me she loved me, and I didn’t say anything back.’ Her throat thickened again. ‘I don’t get a redo on that one, Ben. I can never change that or take it back. That’s how my mother will have remembered me. Glaring at her while she was telling me she loved me.’
Ben was quiet for a moment. ‘I’m guessing your mother was mature enough to realise that just because you hadn’t said the words, didn’t mean you didn’t feel them. She knew you loved her, Olivia.’
‘But I still can’t take it back,’ Olivia whispered.
‘But you can forgive yourself,’ Ben answered steadily. ‘You can cherish the good memories you had with your mother and move on. Do you think she’d want you to hold back from life, from people, because of what you did? Because that’s what you’ve done, isn’t it? That’s why you haven’t had any serious relationships, why you were still a virgin.’
‘I didn’t trust myself not to let someone down,’ Olivia whispered. ‘I still don’t. And I didn’t... I didn’t feel I deserved...’ Her voice broke and he took her in his arms once more.
‘Oh, Olivia. You’re one of the strongest, funniest, kindest people I know. You deserve so much love and happiness, and I know, absolutely, that your mother would want it for you.’
Olivia closed her eyes, wanting to believe him, beginning to believe it even as she acknowledged the tone Ben had used. The tone of someone who was wishing you well, someone who wouldn’t be the person who gave you that love and happiness.
He thought she deserved love and happiness...but he still didn’t think he did.
She took a deep breath. ‘And what about you, Ben? You’ve absolved me, but I know absolutely that one mistake, one moment, doesn’t define a person or his character. That’s shown through a lifetime of moments, of decisions and choices. And it seems like you’ve chosen to control your anger. To live responsibly.’
Ben stiffened, drawing away from her. ‘Can you really say that, when I nearly punched a man tonight?’
‘He was an ass,’ Olivia answered. ‘And the important thing is, you didn’t punch him. You let go of him. You know what that’s called? Self-control.’
