The Rest of the Story - A What if It's Us Sequel Fic

by BrokenTwilighter

Arthur is graduating from college and Ben surprises him by attending the ceremony. Will this be their chance at happiness, or will their fear get in the way?

2. Part 2- Alabanza

Arthur – November 22nd 2023

Ben and I have settled into a great routine. We split most of our adulting or do it together because everything we do together is more fun. We decided to create a joint checking account that we use for rent, bills, and groceries and transfer whatever else we need into our personal accounts. This helps us both (but especially Ben) feel like we're equally contributing and helps us budget together based on the total balance instead of divvying costs up between our accounts. We literally have not had any tension around money because we do it like this.

Ben is so close to being done with school. Midterms were a couple of weeks ago and we had some pretty frustrated study sessions, but he got all As and a B. When he got the grade reports that weekend, he hugged me so hard and I took him out for a nice dinner to celebrate. We don't go out often, but I shut down all of his protests with kisses telling him I was spoiling him for doing a good job. He worked so hard between classes and working at the bookstore usually five days a week, when it came to the weekends, I tried to respect his need for homework time, but on Saturday nights, that was us time. At 5 on Saturday, whether he'd been working or doing homework or both all day, I would commandeer him and we would cook dinner together and then do something as a couple. Usually we watched a movie or played a board game (we're kind of into the board game thing, it's super cute!) or if Dylan and Samantha were in town, we hung out with them, but whatever it was, it was time for him to chill.

My job at Penguin Audiobooks has been awesome. They are one of these new age offices with open space and they want us interacting and talking and collaborating on projects and ideas. We book talent, record audiobooks, and get the engineers and the talent whatever they need for their recordings: extra equipment, coffee, water, snacks, etc. They're also really great about wanting their employees to have a work/life balance, so they close down the building at 8 each night and everyone has to leave, and only Saturdays are optional workdays, so no one ever works Sundays. It's been amazing and I'm really starting to find my stride and feel like I'm contributing in bigger ways there.

Thanksgiving is this week, so Ben and I are out of school and work and getting ready to head to Great Georgia for a few days to visit the fam, Ethan, and Jessie. We're both really excited but he's a little freaked by the plane. He's never been on a plane and while he has seemed comforted by the statistics and information I have given him, as I return from the bathroom to our terminal while we wait to board, he's losing it a little. His leg won't stop bouncing and he's got wild eyes. As I sit down, I chuckle to myself and rub his back. My touch immediately reduces his bounce rate by about half. He's been very specific with me. He doesn't love the feeling of roller coasters, they usually make him sick, so my telling him that it feels like going on a roller coaster was not helpful. We've got a plan. What he needs is my hand and loud music that we're both listening to together. We've made a playlist, we're set, but I can totally feel him spiraling.

Our boarding group is called, so we gather our carry-ons, pull out our phones with our digital tickets, and go get in line. Obviously, our hands are full so holding hands in this moment is not really an option as we move up the line. While we are stopped for a moment, I see the wild eyes return and say, "Hey," so he looks at me. "Come 'ere", I say, leaning forward. He bends down and I kiss him gently on the lips. He is visibly more centered when we pull away and I love the calming effect I have on him. "Better?" I ask.

"Much. Thank you," he says as he takes a deep breath. We move up and scan our tickets before heading onto the plane. We get our suitcases in the overhead bins before taking our seats. Thankfully, we are on the side of the plane with only two seats, so we don't have to worry about a random third person. When we get seated and buckled, I slide my hand into his and he grasps it tighter than he's ever held my hand ever. We get our earbuds in and start our calming playlist, which seems to help him keep his chill until the pilot announces we are up for takeoff. The plane begins speeding down the runway and I'm legitimately afraid he's going to hyperventilate and pass out, so I turn toward him grabbing him around the back of his neck and kiss him with everything I've got. He responds immediately without thinking and before we know it we are in the air and he is pulling away.

"You okay?" I ask, my hand is still on his face, lightly caressing his cheek.

"Yeah," he sighs, resting his forehead on mine. "Sorry."

"You never need to apologize for needing an impromptu make out session. Make out sessions are my forte as boyfriend and that was a pretty solid one, if I do say so myself."

"Valid," he agrees.

When we are allowed, I pull out my tablet and we move the headphone splitter. We put the armrest up between us and cuddle up to watch an episode of The Shannara Chronicles until we are told to put it away for landing. We've been bingeing random fantasy shows lately.

As we walk to baggage claim where my parents are picking us up, I ask, "Think you'll be okay on the ride back?"

"If I say no, can we make out again?" he asks with a smirk.

I grin widely. "I mean, I'm always down for a make out." He smiles.

We don't have any checked baggage, so we roll right out of the exit and are almost immediately engulfed by my parents. They are hugging us and dad is taking our bags to put them in the car. We pile in so we can get out of the way of other people picking up passengers.

The following day is Thanksgiving. Ben and I do what we can to help Mom in the kitchen, but she's got most of it covered. Before we even wake up, the turkey is already in the oven and a breakfast casserole is cooling on the island. We are relegated to rolling up ham rolls and assembling deviled eggs.

Around two o'clock, Jessie and her parents show up. We all get seated around the table and hold hands, going around to say what we are thankful for. We hear a lot about family and friends and good food, but when my mom speaks, I can tell she's a little emotional. "I am obviously thankful for my husband and my son, but I am so incredibly thankful for you, Ben. You are part of our family now, and we know that our Arthur is happy because of you." She is looking at Ben and we are both looking at her as tears pool in all our eyes.

Ben is sitting next to her, so he is holding her hand and he kisses it gently and quietly says, "Thank you Mara" through his emotion. He clears his throat as it is his turn to go next. "I am thankful that the universe is not an asshole," he says with a smile and we all laugh. "I am here with a beautiful man who makes me a better human and his wonderful family who all make me feel at home, and if you'd have asked me in June of the year that Art and I met, I'd have said that would never be the case because I was destined to be alone forever. I know now, that everything happens for a reason and we are better together for all it took us to get to each other." He squeezes my hand and smiles a crooked smile at me.

I am last. "Wow, tough acts to follow. I am grateful for my wonderful man, my family who accepts me with no reservations, and for the life we get to live New York City. We are so blessed, and I couldn't imagine this life with anyone else, anywhere else." Ben kisses me on the cheek and we both blush. He's still a little weird about public displays in front of our family and friends, but he's getting better at it.

Ben

Thanksgiving dinner is amazing as we all dig into our overly full plates. I am so touched by what Mara said as we were giving thanks, but I can't help but think there may have been something more to what she said. I excuse myself and get up to go to the restroom, and when I come back, Arthur has obviously said something hilarious (as he does) and Mara's face is all lit up. Her head is back and she's laughing. I whip out my phone and click the camera and seize the moment taking a wide shot of the two of them. They both look so happy. I slide my phone in my pocket and don't even tell Arthur I've taken the picture.

The rest of the weekend is amazing but on Sunday, as we are getting ready to leave, Arthur is talking to his mom in the kitchen.

"Are you sure you're okay? You've been so tired and you've definitely lost weight." He is concerned and my brow furrows as I roll our bags out of Art's old room and sit them by the front door.

"Oh, honey, of course I'm okay. I've had a pretty big caseload lately, but it's slowing down," she assures him.

"Okay," he says. I can tell he is still unsure. He wraps her in a hug and holds on for a long time. "I love you, Mom. Come see us soon, okay?"

"Of course, sweetie. I love you, too."

I move in and hug her and kiss her cheek. "Thanks for everything, Mara."

"Always my deepest pleasure, Ben, honey. We hope we can get you back here soon," she smiles brightly.

"Alright, boys, let's head out," Michael, Art's dad, says.

As we ride to the airport, Arthur asks his dad about his mom. "She just doesn't seem like herself. Have you noticed anything?"

"I don't know, kiddo. She's been taking naps most days as soon as she gets home from work, but she has had a big caseload, like she said. Her appetite's been a little off. Other than that, not really."

"Can you please try to get her to a doctor? I know how she is about them, but, seriously, Dad…"

"I'll do what I can, Art. She's a grown woman. I can't force her."

"I know. I'm just worried."

I am listening to their conversation from the back seat and I squeeze Arthur's arm reassuringly. Once we get into the airport and are waiting at the terminal, Arthur continues to be on edge. He is sitting with his elbows on his knees, his hands folded in front of him, and his back and shoulder muscles are completely tensed up. I rest my hand on his back and he jumps out of his skin before he really sees me and visibly relaxes.

"God, Ben, I'm sorry…" He shakes his head.

"Worried about Mom?" I ask, knowing the answer is yes.

"Yeah, I just know she hates going to doctors, like flat out refuses. What if something really is wrong, Ben? What if we lose her?" His eyes are fully of intense worry.

I cup his cheek in my hand. "All you can do as her son is love her and encourage her to see someone, but if she doesn't, that's her choice. She's a big girl." He nods a little and I kiss him softly then pull him into a tight hug. He seems to relax, but I can tell it's still weighing on his mind.

---

Over the next several months, Art and I have a standing Sunday afternoon video chat with his parents before we go have dinner with mine. On a call in mid-April, Art asks his mom again if she's feeling okay. Even I must admit, she doesn't look well. Her cheeks are thinning and she's losing her color. She's lost even more weight and she's leaning pretty heavily on Michael.

When he asks her, she says, "Well, honey, I guess I don't know if I'm okay or not, but I did finally go see a doctor and he's sending me for some scans this week. I've been having some dizzy spells and decided it was time."

"Mom, I know you hate it, but I'm so glad you went. Please let us know what they say, okay?" he implores.

"Of course we will, kiddo," his dad says.

"We love you guys," Mara says and blows us a kiss.

"We love you, too" we both say in unison.

As we close the computer, Art heaves a huge sigh of relief. "I'm so glad she's finally going to the doctor. At least we'll know what's going on."

---

Monday, April 22nd, 2024 about 6:30PM

Just over a week later, we are just about to sit down to dinner when Art gets a call from his dad. It's just before Passover and he and his parents are supposed to be converging on New Haven the following day for the traditional meals with his Bubbe and their extended family. They were so excited yesterday when we talked to them.

Art answers his dad's phone call and sets the phone on the counter on speakerphone so that he can finish dishing up the chicken and veggies. "Hey Dad, what's up?"

"Hey Art, um, there's no better way to say this, so I'll just come out with it. Mom's in the hospital. I know you were supposed to head to New Haven, but it's not looking good here, bud. You should get down here if you can." Mike's voice sounds choked.

Arthur sets the pan down as I come toward him. "What happened?" he chokes, bracing himself on the counter.

I am there by his side and he grabs my arm as his dad stammers, "I… she… she just collapsed, Art. We haven't gotten her results back from her scans yet… they're saying she may not wake up… I need you here, Arthur." He releases a sob.

"I'll get us on the next plane out, Mike. We'll be there as soon as we can," I take over, seeing that Arthur is about to lose it. "I'll text you the details."

"Thanks, Ben. Love you guys."

No sooner have I tapped the red "end call" icon, than Arthur falls against me and my arms fly around him to brace his full weight. We sink together to the floor as I hold him against me. Arthur is weeping and not breathing, and tears are streaming down both our faces. I hold him and rock him gently and there's nothing else I can say but, "I'm here, Arthur. You have to breath, babe, I've got you." Finally, he takes a real breath and lets out the most devastated heaving sob scream into my chest. My heart is breaking for him as I cry with him and hold him as tightly as I can, praying silently that Mara might be okay, knowing she likely won't.

It takes us several minutes, but once Arthur's sobs quiet and he seems to be breathing at a more normal rate, I pull back taking his face in my hands. His electric blue eyes look into mine as tears pour from them and my heart breaks for him all over again. "I have to find us plane tickets, Art. Can you stand up for me?"

He nods and I help him up. Once we are both on our feet, he leans on the peninsula with his head resting on his crossed arms as his shoulders continue to tremble as he cries. I rush to my desk to grab my laptop, swiping at the tears on my cheeks. Arthur needs my strength more than ever right now. I rub his back with one hand and find us flights out of La Guardia pretty cheap. "There's a red-eye at 11:10. Okay, purchased," I say. I close my computer and turn my focus back to Arthur. I lightly play with the hair at the nape of his neck and he turns his head to look at me. "I'll clean up the food, babe. Do you think you can go finish packing?"

He lifts up and takes a couple of shaky breaths then nods. I lay a gentle kiss on his temple and squeeze his arm as he heads into the bedroom with his arms wrapped around himself tightly. I take a deep breath of my own and get to work. I quickly pack up the food we were about to eat (which smelled delicious…) into Tupperware containers and start texting my fellow managers and coworkers. By the time I've finished cleaning up the kitchen, my shifts for the remainder of the week are covered and my coworkers have all sent their well wishes for Arthur's mom to get better.

I won't be showing him these…

I remember gratefully that Arthur already had the rest of the week off as he would have been in New Haven, but I do cancel the train ticket that was going to get him there quickly before I turn off my laptop. All the while I am silently praying for the strength and help from whatever forces we've got that I can help get Arthur through what's coming for him.

I grab a glass and fill it with ice water draining it myself before filling it again and heading into the bedroom. I set my laptop on his long dresser and move toward Arthur on the bed. He's sitting next to his packed duffle bag, tears still running down his cheeks. He looks at me as I crouch in front of him and press the glass into his hands.

"Should I pack my black suit?" he asks me sadly, causing tears to spring anew to my own eyes.

"I'll get it, Art. You drink." I stand up and kiss the top of his head before grabbing a garment bag and packing his black suit and my black slacks, deep plum dress shirt, and black cardigan. I don't own a black suit, so that will have to do. I put our dress shoes in the bottom of the garment bag. I pack a duffle bag for myself with a few days' clothes and grab our travel toiletry kits we bought for our trip at thanksgiving. I throw them both in my bag and then take the now empty glass from Arthur and put it on the dresser. I sit next to him and wrap an arm around him. He leans into me with his head on my shoulder as I request a lyft to the airport for an hour from now and text his dad with our flight details.

I slide my phone back in my pocket and put my now free arm around him and ask, "Is there anything else you need right now?"

"No," he whispers, turning into me more fully to bury his face into my chest.

I hold him closer and kiss his shoulder. "Why don't we take showers and get into sweats so we're comfortable on the plane, okay?" I'm trying to make sure we can focus solely on getting to the hospital and being present there when we get to Atlanta.

He lifts his face out of my chest and begs, "Come with me?"

"Of course, Arthur," I whisper, resting my forehead on his. "Whatever you need."

We get into the shower and Arthur braces himself against the wall as he stands with his head immediately under the stream of steaming hot water. I see his shoulders begin to shake again and I am there behind him, holding him, pressing kisses against his back and shoulder, telling him I've got him, I'm with him. I am very careful not to say "It'll be okay" or anything like that. It just won't.

Once he's calmed down again, we shower and towel off pretty quickly and get into sweatpants and t-shirts. It is unseasonably warm for April in the city, but planes are freezing, so I grab Art's Wesleyan quarter-zip and my Hunter College fleece and lay them on our bags.

Arthur slips on a pair of vans and I put on my black Chucks that I put rainbow elastic laces in so they are slip-ons. Art has pretty much stopped outright sobbing but sadness is in every muscle of his body as he leans against his dresser. I grab our wallets and phones, putting mine in my pocket and as I go to slide Arthur's into his, he wraps his arms around my chest. My arms return his embrace instinctively.

"Thank you, Ben. If you hadn't been here, I'd probably still be on the kitchen floor," he tells me quietly.

"I told you, Art. I've got you. I'm with you, whatever you need." I rub his back gently.

"I know, I just… you didn't even need to be asked, you just handled it. You can add 'good in a crisis' to your resume` from here on out," he huffs a humorless laugh.

"You needed me, that's all it takes." I pull back and take his face in my hands. "This is what it is to love, babe. We pick one another up and support each other in the shitty times just like we cheer each other on in the good. You need my strength right now, and you have it. Take every ounce you need to be strong for your family, and when it's just you and me, you don't have to be strong, because I've got you. I can carry it with you no matter what happens."

A few new tears are dripping down his face and he nods his understanding. "Ben, can you kiss me?" he whispers.

I gently press my lips to his, imbuing the kiss with the strength he needs and my love for him. His lips are salty with tears and he sinks into my body as our lips move together. There is no 'howling hunger' here. There is grief and pain; comfort and love. There is a need for physical closeness. I hold him gently; he is so fragile in this moment. My phone dings, pulling us from our moment of solace in one another. I pull back and gently caress his cheek. "Our ride is here," I tell him.

He nods and we grab our things, heading for the elevator. On the way to the airport, Arthur's head rests on my shoulder as he texts his boss to let her know what is happening and then he texts Jessie and Ethan in their group chat.

Arthur: Mom's in the hospital. Not looking good.

Jessie: Holy shit, which one?

Ethan: What the hell?

Arthur: St. Joseph's. Collapsed, still unconscious.

Jessie: I'll be there. Where are you?

Ethan: Jess, come get me.

Arthur: Catching a red-eye. Be there around 2.

Jessie: Ben, too?

Arthur: Of course.

Jessie: Good. I love you. We'll see you when you get here.

Ethan: Love you, man.

Arthur: Love you guys, too.

Arthur wipes fresh tears away with his sleeve as I comment, "We really do have some of the best friends in the world." A passing thought passes through my mind to text Dylan, but I figure I'll have time while we're waiting at the airport, so I don't pull out my phone.

"Yeah, we do," he sniffs.

The airport isn't all that busy, so we are able to navigate security quickly. The TSA agents seem to sense the palpable grief we are feeling and send us through without unnecessary hassle.

When we get to the terminal, we find a pair of seats not separated by an arm rest and Arthur curls up against me, quiet and emotionally exhausted. My arm is around him and his arm rests across my stomach as my free hand lightly caresses up and down his forearm. My stomach growls loudly and he looks up at me. "Are you hungry?"

I smile sheepishly, "I could eat. Do you want something?" I am actually starving, but I wouldn't dare admit that to my sweet, sad boyfriend.

He nods. "Maybe just a bagel and some juice? I don't want to eat but I should and you must be famished."

I shake my head. "Not at all. Don't worry about me, Art. I'll be right back." I kiss his forehead as he sits up and I head to the Starbucks we passed on the way in. I get him a bagel and some apple juice and myself an eggs and cheese protein box and passionfruit lemonade.

When I return, I see Arthur is bent over with his face in his hand and his cellphone against his ear. I set down our food and kneel down in front of him, my brow furrowed in confusion. "Art?" I ask. He hands me the phone without a word, curling his knees up to his chest and resting his head on them as he sobs. I see Jessie's name on the caller ID. "Jess?" I ask. My hand is on Arthur's shoulder. Whatever this is, it's worse than before, I just need to find out what we're dealing with.

"Ben? Oh gosh. Ben, Mara just coded. They're doing all they can, but they're saying there's no…no brain activity," she stutters through emotion. "I know you can't get here any sooner, but you need to be prepared for what's happening here. We're losing her." Her voice is thick with tears.

"Oh, God… Okay," I whisper, pressing my forehead against the top of Arthur's head. "We'll text you when we land."

"Okay, Ben. We're going to come get you guys. It'll be faster than a Lyft."

"Okay, thanks Jess."

I hang up and rub his back gently. "Tell me what I can do," I beg softly into his ear.

"You're doing it," he whimpers, lifting his head and reaching for me. I pull him against me, rubbing his back and pressing light kisses to his neck and face.

"I love you," I whisper. "I love you so much. I am so fucking sorry, Arthur. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here." I murmur these things to him as waves of unimaginable grief wash over him.

Eventually, he backs away enough to look at me. His eyes are bloodshot and puffy from crying. He begins to scrub them away with his sweatshirt sleeve and I reach up and clear them for him.

"I don't know how to do this," he whispers helplessly.

His face is still in my hands and I kiss his forehead. "No one does, love, but we'll walk through it together, okay? You are not alone in this. I love you and I'm here."

He winds his hands into my hair and rests his forehead against mine. "I love you," he whispers.

We stay like that, eyes closed, foreheads together, noses just barely touching, his hands on the nape of my neck, my hands on his back, in our own little bubble of grief. When our boarding group is announced, we separate. I pack our food in my bag, hoping to get Arthur to eat the bagel on the plane.

Because the plane is only about half full, we again have the blessing of being in our own row. I sip my lemonade and Arthur is clutching my hand between us. I gently rub my thumb along his as we wait for take-off. He lays his head on my shoulder, sniffles and wipes his eyes with his sleeve. I turn and kiss the top of his head, then rest my cheek against his hair.

I am immensely relieved when I hear his breathing even out about 20 minutes after take off. He needs the rest while he can get it and I can finally eat. I manage to reach my backpack and pull out my food without jostling Arthur awake (the blessing of long arms) but he does wake as I am pulling off the packaging. Seriously? Why are those cellophane packages so loud?

"Sorry babe, you can go back to sleep," I tell him.

"No, you eat. Can I have mine?"

"Yeah, of course." I pull out his bagel and juice and hand it to him.

He picks at the bagel and ends up eating only half. I offer him something out of my box and he takes a couple of grapes and an apple with some honey peanut butter on it. I end up finishing his bagel and my box. When I'm done, I set the trash in the aisle seat next to me and then lift the arm rest between our seats. Arthur lays across my lap resting his head on his arms on my legs. I rub his back and gently massage his scalp until he's asleep again. Once he is, I lean my head back, click off the light we'd been using, and catch some shut-eye myself.

I am awakened maybe 45 minutes later by the announcement to return all seatbacks and tray tables to their original positions. Arthur sits up sleepily and leans against the window. As the flight attendant makes her rounds, I hand her all our Starbucks trash before turning my attention back to my beautiful grieving boy.

Arthur is hugging himself and staring out the window as Atlanta's bright lights come into view. I reach out and brush my knuckles lightly against his slightly stubbly cheek. He turns his face into my touch with his eyes closed and lightly kisses my fingers. He leans away from the window and toward me, my arm automatically encircling his shoulders and pulling him closer. His face is in the crook of my neck and I feel a few warm tears against my neck. I rub his arm gently and take a deep calming breath to keep my own tears at bay as we land.

When we turn on our phones, there are no new messages or updates and I text Jessie to let her know we've landed. She (but hopefully Ethan?) responds that she is almost at the airport. Once we are off the plane, we make it to and through baggage claim quickly and Jessie is just pulling up as we get outside. She parks and hops out, rushing to Arthur and wrapping him in a tight hug. He returns her embrace tightly. Ethan is out now and pats my shoulder firmly. When Jessie finally releases Arthur, she comes to hug me, and Ethan moves in to hug Arthur. They have no other news, so we all pile into the car and Jessie drives as quickly as she can to the hospital. Arthur rests his chin against his fist and I can see him steeling himself for what he's about to face.

Arthur- Tuesday, April 23rd, 2024 about 2AM

When we reach the hospital, Jessie and Ethan take us up to the ICU where she tells the nurse at the desk that Mara Seuss' son is here.

She looks at Ben and I holding hands and says, "Only family is allowed in the ICU."

With zero hesitation, I tell her, "He's her son-in-law." At least he will be… or…would have been, I think.

She looks suspicious, but nods. "Room 718. Your dad's still down there."

Jessie tells us she and Ethan will be in the waiting room and we head our separate ways. We turn a corner and I see my dad sitting on a seat outside the room holding his head in his hands.

Ben and I slow down and I look up at him. "Can you… would you mind hanging back a bit? Give me a sec with my dad? With her?" I need him, but I think I need to do this part with just my family.

"Whatever you need. You just let me know." He kisses my temple and squeezes my hand before I go to my dad.

He stays a few feet behind as I approach and say, "Dad?"

He starts and stands, embracing me tightly. "Hey bud."

I return his tight embrace. "What do we know?" I ask him.

We sit and he explains through tears and many deep breaths. "They did a bunch of tests and we got the scans from earlier this week rushed here. It appears as though she's had undiagnosed ovarian cancer for what looked like several years. Over time it metastasized to her liver and probably in the last few months, her brain. By the time she started having dizzy spells, it was already too late, kiddo," he tells me heavily.

I am trying to hold it together, but tears spill down my cheeks. "We tried to tell her, Dad," I cry quietly. "So, what about now? Is she…" I can't make myself say the word 'dead' I just can't.

"Art, whatever it was that made her Mom is gone. She's gone, it's just a matter of goodbyes now, bud." He swipes at the tears in his eyes taking a deep breath. As he looks up, his eyes light on Ben behind me. He stands, "Hey Ben, get yourself over here, kid."

Ben comes to him and hugs my dad. "I'm so sorry Mike. She was such a force," he says sadly.

"She really was, wasn't she? You boys should say your goodbyes, we can't just keep her like this… I've been here all night; we were just waiting for you… God, this sucks." Tears are falling again. "We knew, we tried to warn her," he laments.

Ben pats his shoulder as Dad sits back down and I move to the door. I see the outline of Mom's legs and feet and know I won't make it in there by myself.

"Ben? Come with me?" I look to him.

His brow furrows, "I thought…"

I shake my head and take a deep wobbly breath. "I thought so, but… I can't do this alone," I admit sadly.

His eyes soften immediately, and he is by my side holding my hand. "I'm here. I'm right here."

"Don't let go," I whisper, looking into the room where my mom is lying hooked up to a host of machines and wires.

"Never," he breathes.

We walk toward her and tears flow with abandon down my cheeks as we round the curtain pulled halfway down the length of her bed. She has IVs and a huge tube down her throat. Ben switches which hand is holding mine so he can turn away and collect himself.

I slide my hand carefully around my mom's hand. This is the hand that she put on her hip when she was busting my dad's chops. It is the hand that applied Band-Aids and Neosporin when I fell off my bike. It is the hand that held my face as I cried when I was 17 and had to leave the boy I loved.

I lay a kiss on her hand and then on her forehead, so perfectly smooth. "I love you, Mom. I promise I'll make you proud." Sobs begin to shake me to my core and Ben's arms are around me as his sobs join mine. He grieves with me, with my family, because he is my family. I feel a pang of guilt for the thought I had earlier about needing to do this with just family, because if anyone has become chosen family for all of us, it's my Ben. He and Mom loved one another. I have to let him have his own moment to grieve the loss of my mom. I make a concerted effort to steady myself and pull back to take his face in my hands. "She loved you, so much. You heard her at Thanksgiving. She was so proud of you, of us together. Making it in the city. She was always in our corner," I tell him through my steadily falling tears. "She would have loved to have had you as a son-in-law." He closes his eyes and turns his face into my hand, kissing my palm.

We trade spots, not letting go of one another, and Ben takes her hand in his and whispers through his tears, "I've got your boy, Mara. He's my family and I'll take care of him, just like I promised." He kisses her forehead and steps back, wrapping his arms around me. He rests his forehead against the side of my head and whispers into my ear, "Alabanza Mama Mara. We pray you are in the light of the father. Te amamos, te extrañamos, nosotras te recordamos."

I am wracked by a fresh wave of sobs and lean heavily on Ben as we grieve together. It feels like a part of me is cleaving in two as I am wrecked by the realization of all the things she will miss. I mourn her absence at my and Ben's wedding, at our kids' birthdays and performances, at holidays, and all the other small moments that make up the bigger picture she can no longer be a part of. I weep as Ben holds me close and supports my weight. I'm not sure how I do it, but I eventually pull it together. Ben and I make our way back into the hallway and Dad is talking to a doctor. He sees us and nods sadly, signing some paperwork before returning to us.

"Mom was listed as an organ donor, and even in her condition, there are still viable organs, so she'll be… taken off life support in the OR, and then they'll transfer her to the funeral home tomorrow. He stares up and looks like he might lose his balance, so Ben and I each put a hand on his back.

"Okay," he breathes, steadying himself. "I can do this. I don't know how, but we'll make it…"

A team of doctors comes and rolls my mom and all her equipment out of the room and down the hall as tears are shed by all of us. Once she is out of sight, I put an arm around Dad's back and Ben's hand is firmly clasped in mine as we walk away from the ICU.

Jessie and Ethan come to us as we approach the waiting area. We exchange hugs and Jessie lets us grab our stuff out of her car as she promises to see us later that evening once we all have a chance to sleep. Ethan chimes in that he'll be there, too.

Dad drives back to the house and I am sitting in the front bucket seat. Ben is right behind me, leaning forward and holding my hand. I'm pretty sure I'd be a literal puddle if he weren't here.

As we pull in the driveway, the sky begins to lighten. We will be in my old room like we were at Thanksgiving. We all walk in, mumble "g'night" to each other, and head off to opposite ends of the house.

Ben and I take off our sweatshirts and curl up in bed together in our sweatpants and t-shirts. As I slot into place against him in the way we always do, I am comforted that in this world that has been rocked by the earthquake of my mom's death, this still feels right and comfortable and safe.

He presses a kiss to the crook of my neck and whispers, "What do you need?" in my ear.

My lip trembles and I feel a whole new wave coming as I say, "Just you, making me feel safe in a world without my mom…"

Ben's arms around me, holding me against him, are exactly the vice grip that I need to hold me together as sobs wrack my body again. I am short of breath as he kisses me and tells me to take deep breaths. Meanwhile, his own tears are falling against the back of my neck and shoulder. I am still whimpering softly a while later and he is nuzzling his nose against the nape of my neck. He does not pass out, like I'm sure he needs to, but waits until I have fallen asleep. He is with me, completely and for as long as I need him. I make a mental note, before I doze off, to plan an extra special date to show him how much I love him and how much his presence here has meant to me whenever we get home.

My sleep is fitful, and I wake up several times over the next couple of hours and start crying all over again. It's like I forget in my sleep and the shock of Mom's loss is new each time I open my eyes. I wake up around ten and mercifully do not startle Ben awake with me (again). One of us should sleep and it almost certainly isn't going to be me. I gingerly roll out of bed, careful to leave Ben sleeping, and pad out into the kitchen.

I am boiling water to make some chamomile tea when I hear, "Couldn't sleep either?"

I turn and see my dad sitting down at the island. I shake my head. "I'm making tea, you want some?"

"No, thanks, but I'll take coffee if you can start it up for me." I do. As it brews, he quietly tells me, "The hospital called. They wanted to let us know that Mom's organs saved 5 other lives." I can think of nothing to say, so I just look up blinking tears from my eyes. He continues, "I made an appointment at the funeral home for late this afternoon. I know you and Ben need to get back. I figure we'll have services on Friday."

"That sounds fine, Dad, but don't worry about us. We'll make it work," I tell him.

"You guys are doing okay?" he asks as I pour him a cup of now-brewed coffee. "Financially, I mean?" I take my cup of tea over to the island and stand across from him.

"Yeah, Dad. We're doing great. Ben is the best budgeter I know," I assure him.

He nods. "It was great of him to come. Mom loved him so much," he says quietly, a small sad smile playing on his lips.

"He didn't even think twice. He loves Mom… loved…her, too."

"You know she kept waiting for the Sunday call when you told her he had proposed," he says with a smirk.

I chew on the inside of my bottom lip. "Now she'll never know…" I scrub a hand down my face.

"She'll know, Art."

I nod and ask, "Why did she think he was going to propose to me?"

"Because you get so in your head about that stuff. She always said Ben would beat you to it even if you might already want to." He smiles and shakes his head.

"I do want to," I whisper. "I told the nurse he was her son-in-law to get him in the ICU."

"I was wondering how you got him past Janice." He smiles and stands, patting my shoulder. "Life is short, Art. Spend as much of it loving the one who brings joy to your life as you can." He kisses the top of my head and heads into his office.

Wow. Solid advice from a grieving man. I sip my tea and check my phone seeing a text from Jessie.

Jessie: Hi Art. What are your plans? What can we do?

Ethan: What she said.

Me: Meeting at the funeral home this afternoon

Me: Will let you know what's up when we know

Jessie: Can we bring over dinner?

Me: Sounds good

Me: Something simple.

Jessie: Got it

Jessie: We'll take care of it.

Jessie: I'll come grab you, Ethan.

Ethan: Perf

Me: Thanks guys, love you.

Both: Love you, too.

I finish my tea and sneak back into the room quietly, but Ben is already awake, rubbing his eyes and rolled up on one arm, looking confused. He looks exhausted. So adorable, but completely beat. "Hey babe, what are you doing up?" he asks through a yawn.

"Couldn't sleep," I tell him as I climb back in and cuddle up with him again. "Neither could Dad. We chatted for a bit."

We lie facing each other, foreheads and noses touching. He rubs my back and I tangle our legs together, desperate for the sanctuary of his closeness. He holds me against him and we doze lazily in each other's arms for a while. I think about what my dad said about marrying the one you love. I know we are young, Ben just turned 23 and I won't for a few months, but we could get engaged and not get married for a couple of years. We could totally do that. I just want Ben to know that I am in this forever with him.

I shift my head back away from him to look at his face. His eyes are closed, and his face is completely relaxed. His slightly darkened skin blushed from our shared warmth under the constellation of freckles across his nose. I press my lips gently to his lips and his arms tighten slightly around me as his lips respond to mine. I pull back a bit and his soft brown eyes are gazing into mine.

"Hey," he says.

"How young do you think is too young to get married?" I ask.

Ben's eyebrow quirks and he rolls on his back with one arm under his head. "Well, I guess if you're in, you're in. As long as two people are of legal age and emotionally and financially stable, then I say go for it."

I smile; it is small and doesn't quite reach my whole face, but I love his answer. "My sentiments exactly," I agree. "Have you ever thought about what you'd want? I mean in your wedding one day?" I play lightly with the hem at the neck of his t-shirt.

He runs his fingertips up and down my forearm. "Well, given that weddings and marriage come up in about a quarter of the conversations I have with Dylan, yes. I have," he laughs. "It's just really important to me that all our family and friends are there with us, supporting us. It would also be cool to incorporate quotes from our favorite books … or shows," he adds pointedly.

My smile is fuller this time as I realize he has thought about marrying me, or at least he is now. "That sounds very cool."

He smiles a crooked smile and moves a hand into my hair to play with the ends lightly. "What about you? Have you thought about it?"

I nod. "It shouldn't surprise you a bit that I want one of those choreographed numbers at the reception," I tell him.

He chuckles. "It does not. You wouldn't be the man I love without the Broadway in your blood." He kisses my forehead.

We are quiet for a bit, before he lightly traces my jawline with his fingertips. "How are you, Arthur? Really?"

I close my eyes, letting his touch settle me as I search for the right words. "I don't know. Right this second, it's like a dull ache, like a wound that's still fresh but you can't really feel the whole thing because it's not being agitated… It gets poked by memories or thoughts. Her not being at some eventual future wedding, that hurts a lot." Tears prick at my eyes. "I had always seen our moms giving us away like dads do for daughters," I admit, looking down away from him.

He tilts my face back up to his with a finger under my chin. His eyes are pooled with tears. "I saw that, too, Art," he whispers.

I bury my face in his chest and wrap myself around him tightly. We are locked together in a small and quiet moment of grief for a future moment we'll never have. We sniff and hold each other and finally that moment of grief passes. I disentangle myself from him and push myself into a sitting position against the pillows next to him. I take a few deep breaths as he also moves to sit up. "So, yeah," I say. "Still raw is probably the best way to say it."

He nods and reaches out for my hand, which I give him and he brings it to his lips for a kiss just as my dad knocks and says that we have to be at the funeral home in about an hour. I call out an okay, still looking at Ben. "Guess that means we have to get ready."

"Yep," he agrees.

We both stretch and I groan loudly as I climb out of bed. We each throw on a pair of jeans and I put on a short sleeve button down with a subtle light gray paisley pattern on dark gray. Ben puts on a charcoal gray Henley that hugs his chest and abs in all the right places. Damn, he is too fine not to notice. I am wrecked with grief and exhausted, but my man is looking damn good.

I wrap my arms around him, dragging my hands up his back muscles as I pull him closer and lightly kiss his neck. "You look so good in that shirt," I say quietly.

"Why thank you," he chuckles, returning my embrace. "You're lookin' pretty cute rocking that French tuck if I do say so myself." He kisses my shoulder and pulls back taking my face in his hands. "Where do you need me for this?"

I sigh deeply, "By my side, like you should have been the whole time at the hospital. I don't know what I was thinking. We're always better together." I shake my head and look away from him.

"Hey, look at me." I do. "There is not a right or wrong way to go through this. You can say one thing and change your mind the next and we can pivot. It's okay. I just don't want to overstep at all. You and your dad can have as much space as you need to make the decisions you need to."

I nod and take a deep breath. "I'll ask if I need input, but I definitely don't need or want space. I am so incredibly grateful you're here, Ben. Your support is the only thing helping me pull it together at all."

He pulls me against him and whispers "I love you" softly into my ear.

"I love you, too," I say into his chest.

We walk out of my room and Dad is waiting with a file folder.

"What's that?" I ask.

"Mom's will. She was a pretty prepared lady," he says sadly.

I nod and let him know that Jessie and Ethan are coming over later with dinner, so we don't have to worry about that.

"That sounds great, bud."

We get to the funeral home and most of our choices have been made for us. Mom had even filled out a funeral preferences questionnaire and the attendant said they could take care of that. The only input I had was that I requested a song to be played to finish the service. We settle on Thursday visitation and a Friday service. With the plans all made and set in motion, we head back to the house.

Jessie and Ethan are there when we get back with a whole smorgasbord from Panera. Large cannisters of a couple different soups, breads, a platter of bagels and cream cheese spreads, stuff to build our own sandwiches, and an array of pastries. I wrap Jessie and Ethan in a group hug.

"Thanks guys. Thanks for everything, seriously, it's above and beyond the call."

Ethan squeezes my shoulder in a show of support, Jessie shakes her head. "You're our best friend, Art. You don't have to ask or thank us, we loved your mom, too." I squeeze them tightly again and we all make plates before sitting down at the table. We update Ethan and Jessie on all the pertinent day and time information and once they've eaten, they head out with the promise to check back in tomorrow and tentative plans for breakfast at Waffle House. God, I miss Waffle House. Maybe a pancake coma will cheer me up… for a bit.

After they've left, Ben, Dad, and I are all still sitting at the table. "So, is there anything else that needs to be done?" I ask my dad.

"I have to call the family that hasn't been notified yet, and we need an obituary. They said that someone at the newspaper can write it or we can have someone from the family write it, but whether we are sending details for them to write or a piece for them to publish, there's an email in the packet on the counter to send it to. That's pretty much it." Dad scrubs a hand over his tired face.

I look to Ben. "We could write her obituary," I suggest softly.

Ben's eyes go soft and sad as he reaches for me. He takes my hand and swallows some of the emotion away. "Yeah, of course we can…" His voice trembles and his eyes brim with tears.

"Really? That would be such a huge help. Thank you so much, boys. She would love that you were writing it."

Ben – 8PM

Later that night, we sit on the couch with Arthur's laptop on my lap and we're staring at all the basic information for an obituary, but I am completely blocked for anything else to write. Arthur's head is on my shoulder and he is patiently allowing me time to think, but I know he is expectant that this will be one of my better pieces. He is trusting me with this. I groan in frustration and rake my fingers through my hair.

Arthur closes the laptop and slides it off my lap onto the coffee table. "Come on, let's take a walk." He grabs my hand and tugs me off the couch. We slide on shoes and Art calls out to his dad that we're heading out and we are off.

The night air is cool, maybe 65 or so, with a nice breeze. Arthur slides his hand into mine as we step onto the sidewalk at the end of the driveway.

I take a deep refreshing breath as we meander down the street. "I'm really sorry, Art…" I say quietly, my eyes downcast.

"Sorry for…?" he questions.

"I'm just… I'm blocked and I feel like I'm letting you down," I admit.

He lets out a surprised laugh. "Let me get this straight. You've essentially been holding my hand or my entire body for the last 24 hours WHILE buying plane tickets, packing, getting this week off of work, making sure I ate, and trying to help me sleep when I know damn well that you're more fucking exhausted than you'd ever admit to me and YOU think YOU are letting ME down? Have you fallen and bumped your obnoxiously perfect head, Ben Alejo?"

A small smile quirks at my lips and I feel the tension leave my face and shoulders as I look at him. "I just want to get this right for you. For her."

Arthur moves in and wraps his arms around me. "You are getting it right, Ben. if we don't get it sent tonight, no one is going to fault you."

Now I feel like a super-sized piece of shit. He's grieving his dead mom and I'm worried about my insecurities as a writer. God, am I an asshole, or what? I press a kiss to Arthur's forehead and take a deep breath. "I hear you" I say quietly. I turn with my arm around his shoulder to keep us moving. "Can you tell me about her?" I ask. "I only knew her in the last few months really." I know it will probably be like tearing off a huge emotional Band-Aid way before anything has had the chance to heal but I need to know her better to write anything that could possibly encapsulate the woman she was.

"Oh, um, yeah…" Arthur confirms, sadness returning to his beautiful blue eyes. We are walking by a playground and he asks, "Can we swing?"

I smile and we turn to head toward the swing set. There is a huge tire swing that could legitimately hold like 5 small children, so the two of us definitely fit. It's like an old school tractor tire. I kick us off lightly once we are both inside and then swing my legs up to rest on the bottom half of the tire on either side of where Arthur is sitting. He pulls his up resting them underneath me, since his legs just barely stretch all the way across. He reaches his hands out to me and I wind my fingers together with his and the jumble of our fingers rests on my slightly bent knees.

Arthur takes a big breath and begins. He talks about how she was always a perfectionist, which is where he gets it from, and that made her a great lawyer. She was so dedicated to her cases and clients. She would take a case like the one she worked on when Arthur and I met maybe once a year, at most. Her real heart was in social justice lawsuits for groups of people who were treated unfairly. She felt as a Jewish woman, in the world we live in today, that it was her responsibility to stand up for those who couldn't stand up for themselves.

As much as Art seemed to think his parents were headed for divorce when he was in high school, they had in fact loved each other extremely well in their 25 and a half years of marriage. She had always wanted more kids, but Arthur was a work of hormone shots and miracles. She had been a camp counselor at a camp in the Adirondack mountains and had actually kept in touch with a few of her campers. She was in a monthly book club that Jessie and Ethan's moms and a few other moms from their high school were a part of. They started it to keep up with the books the kids were reading so they could help with homework. They kept it going as a sort of support group for moms.

He talks and I listen for over an hour. He tells me stories as we laugh and cry and I find myself so intensely grateful for this fiery, passionate, dedicated woman who raised the sassy, loyal, perfectionist sitting in this swing with me. When Arthur falls quiet, I stand inside the ring of the tire and catch him as he begins to fall back when the swing becomes unbalanced. He stands once he is able to catch his own balance and we are just holding one another in the circle of the swing. Art's face is still tear streaked and blotchy, as I'm sure mine is, but when he looks up at me, through the sadness, there is a glimmer of a spark in his eyes. He lifts up on his tip toes wrapping his arms around my neck and he is kissing me with everything in him. His arms are a vice grip behind my neck, and I hold him around his back and by the back of his head with my fingers in his hair. I make a move to slow down and pull away because I think maybe this isn't a good idea right now, but he tightens his hold again. He will not be denied and I don't actually want to deny him, I want to give him what he needs, but we are in a public park after all, so when he lets go of me and reaches for the button on my jeans, I catch his wrists gently and pull them away.

"Babe, let's go back to the house. We can't do this, not here." My voice is husky and Arthur's eyes are black and wide with his desire. He can have my body however he needs it, but I draw the line at being outside in the middle of a neighborhood.

He takes a couple of deep breaths and shakes his head, "No, you're right. Of course, we can't." His face still looks… angry? Frustrated? I can't tell, but I don't like where his mental spiral is heading.

We climb out of the swing and make our way back to the house. He looks dejected and he hasn't said anything since we left the park, so I ask "What are you thinking?" I'd hate to think I'm making this any worse for him.

"I guess… I don't know. I know we were in public, but you didn't even get… excited, and I'm just more sensitive right now to rejection. You can say no, I don't want you to feel like you can't ever, but in my current emotional state it didn't feel great." He won't meet my eyes and I shake my head as we get back into his house. I grab his hand, pulling him into the bedroom, and lock the door. Arthur looks up at me, pure surprise in his eyes as I walk to him stripping out of my t-shirt.

"There may come a day when I tell you I am not in the mood to make love to you Arthur James Seuss, but it is not this day." I take him into my arms and do all he asks of me for as long as I can.

When we finish, we are in need of a shower, so we head into Art's bathroom. As we step into the steam and begin to let the scalding water wash us clean of the day and each other, I do not let go of Arthur. We wash one another and we kiss each other gently on the lips, the neck, the shoulders, the chest. We no longer need heat and passion, but the comfort of closeness as the heat of the shower is relaxing our tense and tired muscles.

Once we are both clean, I shut off the water and we wrap towels around our waists. When we step out of the shower, Arthur pulls me to him as he leans against the vanity. He slides his hands up my back, sealing my damp body against his, chest to chest. I hold him just as tightly seeing that he is desperate for this skin to skin contact and I gently suggest that we sleep in just boxer briefs tonight. He nods gratefully and kisses me. "You always know just what I need," he says quietly.

"I know you, Art. I pay attention. I get you," I tell him softly.

We dry off and both pull on only boxer briefs. I lay on my back against the pile of pillows at the head of the bed and open my arms to him. He slides in next to me and settles himself against me, along the entire side of my body: his arm beneath him curls around and holds my shoulder under his head which is tucked into the crook of my neck, his chest is sealed tightly against my side by his top arm, which encircles my chest, and one leg rests against mine, while the other is hooked over it, yet another measure being used to seal us as closely as possible. My arm which is trapped between Art's head and bottom arm, is around his back and my other arm is across my body so that I can link my hands against Arthur's ribs, holding him almost as tightly as he holds me. I quickly reach for the comforter and tuck it in closely around us before linking my hands again.

Arthur presses a couple of kisses to my neck and whispers, "I love you so much, Ben."

"And I love you more than words can say, my Arturo," I murmur against the skin of his forehead. "Sleep now, love. I'm not going anywhere," I assure him with a soft kiss.

Once he is sleeping nice and soundly, I grab my phone, careful not to move him. I turn the sound off to make sure there won't be any annoying keyboard clickity clacks and I tap out the rest of Mara's obituary having gotten all the inspiration I needed from our conversation on the swing.

Seuss, Mara Jane. Age 47. Mara passed in the early morning hours of Tuesday, April 23rd, at St. Joseph's hospital after a long undiagnosed battle with Ovarian cancer.

Those who knew Mara would tell you that she was an incredibly dedicated individual to both her family and her work. She was an advocate for justice for her many underprivileged clients at Smilowitz and Birnbaum Law Firm.

Mara's passion for the law was only but a shadow of the love she felt for her family. She gave all that she could to ensure that her husband and son had all they needed. Mara always endeavored to care for those around her well, while also setting the highest standards of excellence for herself and others.

Those who loved her are better for having had her in our lives and we are lesser for having lost her so soon. We love her, we miss her, we will always remember her light.

I include a cropped down version of that picture I took at Thanksgiving where she looks so full of life and happy. I save the doc and attach it to an email to the address from the funeral packet. As I send it, I also send up a silent prayer that it is everything Arthur would want. I slide my phone back onto the nightstand and return my arms to holding him.

I thank the universe that he has been able to remain asleep, Lord knows he needs it. As much as I hate to admit it, he is right and I am exhausted, but I regret nothing. Arthur needs me and so I am here in whatever capacity he needs: hand to hold, arms to hold him together as he falls apart, sex as stress relief, or obituary writer. I am here because I love him and I wouldn't be anywhere else when he needs me. I couldn't even imagine doing this long distance. Feeling and being needed, essential but not being anywhere close? That would have been torture for us both, I think as I fall asleep.

It must be a few hours later when I am jolted awake by the top of Arthur's head smacking into my jaw. I shake myself and get my bearings. Arthur's arms are still around me but his head is flailing wildly back and forth as he cries, "No, don't take her, not my mom." Tears are streaming from his tightly closed eyes and I pull out of his grasp.

I cup his face in my hands and lightly tap his cheek as I say his name. "Arthur, wake up, it's a dream. Wake up, Art."

His eyes fly open and he looks around realizing where he is and who I am. His face contorts as he rolls into the pillow and his weeping continues. He pounds his fist into the pillow and cries, "Nooooooo."

I situate myself behind him, one arm under him, across his chest, holding his shoulder, the other holding him around his stomach against me. He clutches the arm across his chest with both hands and his legs curl up over my arm across his stomach. My lips work to calm him with gentle kisses and soothing words whispered in his ear. "It was a dream, baby. Shhhhh."

"But she's gone," he sobs. "That's real."

"I know," I whisper. "God, I'm so sorry, Arthur. I just love you and I'm here."

"Don't leave me, Ben," he whimpers.

I hold him as tightly as I can. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here." I rest my face against his and I'm crying, too.

Finally, Arthur breathes deep and quavering and lets go of my arm. I'm pretty sure I'll have bruises. I'm 100 percent sure I could not care less. I loosen my grip and he rolls over to face me. "Sorry," he says quietly. "For waking you up… and everything." He wipes his tears from his cheeks.

"Please stop apologizing," I tell him. "You never have to apologize for feeling your grief and I will never regret being in the thick of it with you. I may need you to kiss this chin, though. You really got me here," I say with a smile as I move my jaw around with my hand dramatically.

He laughs wetly and pulls my face to his, laying a light kiss on the side of my jaw where his head got me. "All better?"

"Completely," I say. "How are you doing? That was pretty intense, yeah?"

"Yeah, I don't even remember the dream, it's already gone, but it was about her… her… her death. It was so fresh," he says.

"Arthur, it is fresh. You are completely justified in every tear you shed and breakdown you have. Pain demands to be felt and you're feeling it with every cell in your body."

He is quiet a moment and then says, "I love that movie. Remember when I thought I found Ansel Elgort?" he sniffs and I chuckle.

"Of course I do, silly boy." I kiss his forehead and rest back against the pillows now that he is okay for the moment.

"Hey, roll over, I'll be the big spoon and you can get some real sleep," he tells me. This is new, but I do as I am asked, and we adjust the covers as I settle against him. His forehead rests between my shoulder blades and his arm holds me tight to him.

"I could get used to this," I say contently.

"Nice, isn't it?" he chuckles and kisses my back. "Go to sleep. I love you."

"I love you, too," I say, holding his hand against my chest as I doze off.

When I wake up, I actually feel like I've rested as I stretch and open my eyes. Arthur is not in bed with me, so I get up and put on my sweats and a t-shirt. I grab my phone and see that it is barely 8 AM. I walk out into the living room and Arthur is curled up on the couch under a fuzzy blanket looking through a photo album.

I sit beside him and join him under the blanket as he leans into me instinctively. I see he is looking at family pictures from the late 90's to the 2000's. "Hey you," I say, kissing his temple.

"Hey," he says quietly as he flips the page showing pictures from a Disney trip when Art was seven or eight. He and his mom and dad had pictures taken with a plethora of characters and, while Mike seems to get more and more apathetic as they go on, Mara and Art's excitement never wanes. They both look so happy. I run a finger over the picture of them with Woody and Buzz from Toy Story. Arthur takes a deep breath and closes the album, sliding it back onto the coffee table before cuddling more fully into me.

"How long have you been up?" I ask.

"An hour or so. I wanted to let you sleep."

I tilt his chin up and kiss him lightly. "Thank you. You were right, I needed it."

He nods. "My pleasure."

"Can I show you something?" I ask. He nods and I pull out my phone, opening google docs. I tap on the file and turn it toward him. "I finished writing the obituary and sent it off after you fell asleep. Everything we talked about last night really helped."

He takes my phone and I hold him as he reads, tears spilling freely. "This is beautiful, Ben. I love the picture, is it from Thanksgiving?" he asks as he clears his face with a corner of the blanket.

"Yeah, I had to crop your goofy face out of it," I smile at him and kiss his cheek. "She just looks so full of life, happy and surrounded by family," I say.

"Exactly. Thank you so much. I knew you could do it." He presses a kiss to my cheek. "So, how does breakfast with Ethan and Jess around ten sound? We're going to be pretty much stuck between here and the funeral home the next couple of days, I figured we should get out and hang out while we can. Plenty of time for wallowing in feelings while we're alone."

"That sounds good, but if it's too much, we'll come home. I do have my license now, I'll be your getaway driver," I offer with a smile.

A small but real smile breaks over his face. "Okay, thanks babe. Let me go procure us a vehicle and I'll be in to get ready." He kisses me and we both get up.

I head into the bedroom to start getting dressed and Arthur comes back in a few minutes later as I pull on my jeans. His face is red again and he closes the door. My eyebrows lift in a question. "We're taking Mom's car," he says taking a deep breath and handing me the keys.

I look at the jumble of keys and keychains and I see it, right there in the middle is a keychain with the picture of Art kissing his mom on the cheek on graduation day. She looks so happy and proud. I slide the keys in my pocket and take him silently into my arms.

He sniffs as he presses his head back against the door. "Is everything going to be like this?" he cries angrily. "Every little moment and memory reduced to a puddle of tears?"

"I don't know, Art, but you have to let it out as it comes. You can't bottle it up."

"I know… God, I know you're right, but I'm already annoyed with myself for crying all the time," he berates himself.

"Hey, do you mind being nicer to the man that I love? He just lost his mom yesterday," I say softly, taking his face in my hands and tilting it up at me. "You get to feel however you need to feel right now. You don't have to adult or do anything you don't want to, and you get to ask for whatever you need. But you don't get to be hard on yourself for needing those things," I say.

He rests his head against my still bare chest and he takes several trembling breaths as I run my fingers through his hair and run his shoulders. I hope I am doing this right. I don't even want to try and imagine what I would be like if the roles were reversed here. My family means everything to me. Once he regains his composure, we both finish getting dressed and head out.

Arthur – Wednesday, April 25th 9 AM

Getting into my mom's car is a grief spiral no one could have possibly prepared me for on top of the errand dad needs us to run. We have to drop off the outfit my mom will be buried in: her favorite blouse and skirt. We also have to pick up supplies for the dinner we are hosting at the house after the funeral, like we're throwing a fucking party. I have to get funeral party supplies. Wake supplies for my mother's wake because she's dead.

This is what I'm struggling to wrap my head around as I sit in the passenger seat of the car and immediately tears spring to my eyes because I smell her in the air. Her perfume she would spritz on as she headed into work. I smell the warm sugar vanilla air fresheners she loved that would fill the car every time she took me to and from school until I got my car. She is in every molecule of this space and I am not dealing well as I hold on to the handle in the door and breathe deeply, leaning my head against the headrest.

Ben hangs the outfit Dad gave us in the back as I work to fight back the onslaught of emotion. Come on Arthur, you can do this. You can ride in Mom's car without totally losing your shit, I tell myself. Ben gets into the driver's seat and, being the highly observant man that he is, senses my struggle and grabs my hand. He takes a look around and a deep breath. "Smells like her in here, doesn't it?"

"So much," I breathe, looking up and blinking the tears away.

Ben kisses my hand and reminds me, "If we need to come back, just let me know, okay? Whatever you need."

I nod and we get on the road. Several tears manage to make their escape as the AC turns on and the air fresheners are blown anew into the car. I swipe them away and I feel her absence in my heart like a literal wound. I miss her with everything I am, but I'm getting used to this missing, little by little. I manage, somehow, not to totally lose it. Progress.

We pull up to the funeral home and Ben offers to just run in the outfit while I wait in the car and I gratefully accept this. We're going to spend enough time here as it is. He is back in just a couple of minutes and we head to the Waffle House to meet Ethan and Jessie. I am sitting next to the window across from Jessie and Ben is in my booth, so Ethan sits next to Jess. We get all of our favorite foods and try to chat it up like old times. I ask what they've been up to, I tell them about working at Penguin. They tell me about work and the people they're seeing: no one serious for now. As we finish eating, conversation lags a bit and Jessie reaches across the table for my hand. I place mine in it and she grasps it tightly, her eyes shining with tears.

"Have I told you how sorry I am, Art? God, I loved your mom… You remember when we'd come over to play or do homework on the weekends and she'd have these huge snack spreads all laid out? She always went above and beyond…" Jessie blots tears from the corners of her eyes.

I nod and brush away the many tears running down my face. "She loved you guys, too," I say quietly with a sad smile. Ben slides an arm around my shoulder, and I lean into him as I let go of Jessie's hand and work to pull myself back together yet again.

"So, we have to go to Target and get plates and cups and stuff for the dinner on Friday. You guys want to come? We can get Starbucks and walk around," I say, seeking a modicum of normalcy in the shitstorm that is life right now.

"You know me, I'm always down for BullsEye's Dollar Section," Jessie agrees emphatically.

"I actually have to go to work, guys. I'll see you tomorrow at the visitation, though," Ethan tells us. We all get up and pay our bills before we head out.

As we are walking around Target, Jessie and I sipping on Caramel Macchiatos and Ben happily chewing on the straw stuck in his passionfruit lemonade, I begin to feel a little more like myself again. We select the supplies for the wake and Jessie insists we must go with Lavender and Silver because they are classy and not at all sad, just like Mom would have wanted. We get everything we need into the cart and then set about wandering aimlessly around the store. Jessie tries on hats and accessories, we buy random shit we definitely don't need, but "might totally find a way to use someday" and I laugh, out loud and for real for the first time in over 48 hours. I actually am doubled over laughing. Jessie is wearing this hideous jacket with more pickets than a pair of cargo pants and a huge wide brimmed hat, working the aisle in the store like it's the runway at Fashion Week. I truly feel like me again as I lean on Ben and we are giggling so hard we can't see straight while we egg Jessie on as though we were her photogs. As we regain our composure, Ben's arms slide around me from behind and he sings (a little off key) into my ear, "It's good to see your face." I smile wide and turn my head kissing him deeply.

"Oh my gosh, you guys are too cute! I may barf!" Jessie says with a smile as I pry my lips from his but stay in the circle of his arms.

"He sang a Hamilton lyric to me. What option did I have but to kiss him?" I ask with a sly smile.

We go check out and Jessie heads home. As we get into the car, I sigh heavily, resting my head back on the headrest. Ben twines his fingers with mine and gazes at me with a smile. "That was fun," he says.

"Very classic me and Jessie, circa 2016-2019," I tell him with a wink. I kiss the back of his hand.

"I'm glad we got to spend some time with them outside of everything else. Is there anything else you're wanting to do?" he asks.

"Honestly, I think I'm going to have to call in my getaway driver. I'm having serious 'curl up on the couch with my man and watch movies' vibes. Is that okay?"

"That is incredibly okay." He squeezes my hand. "We have season 5 of The Politician to watch," he offers as he starts the car and gets going.

"Mmm, you know how I feel about a good-looking Ben," I say a bit suggestively. He grins.

We head home and do exactly as we said. We get back into our sweats and we curl up on the couch watching Ben Platt become President of the United States in Netflix's final season of The Politician. We snack on the pastries and bagels Jessie and Ethan left us and we cuddle and talk about the show. It feels so familiar and right, just like in our apartment.

Later that night, once we've finished bingeing the whole season, Ben and I head to bed and I can feel the joy that our life together brings me, but also the heaviness of my loss, our loss. I didn't think those two things could exist together, but this day with him and our friends has shown me that life does keep moving. The more I cling to Ben's strength and let him wade through my grief with me, the clearer it becomes that he is the only person I want for the rest of my life. We will go through a tremendous amount of shit in this life, but if we can walk through it together and offer the strength the other needs, we can make it through anything and come out happy on the other side.

Tomorrow and Friday are going to be especially shitty days, but I will be okay because Ben and Jessie and Ethan will be there. When you're going through the darkest days of your life, you have to seek out the light so that you don't drown. Our love is my light in the darkness.

Ben – Thursday, April 25th, 2024

Thursday is a bit of a blur of faces. Visitation at the funeral home is all afternoon, but now that all the neighbors and family friends have heard, as well as both Mike's work and Mara's firm, there's also a steady stream of people stopping by the house most of the morning. The number of pies and casseroles is overwhelming. Arthur and I have to start taking them down into the basement fridge because we run out of room in the kitchen.

The visitation is similarly steady. People coming in, expressing their condolences, milling about, and leaving. I won't remember their names in the next hour, let alone tomorrow when I actually might see them again.

About halfway through the afternoon, I am lingering near Arthur as he has a conversation with some distant cousin and my phone buzzes in my pocket. When I look, I see Dylan's name on the screen and whisper to Arthur I'll be out in the hallway, showing him my phone. I don't EVER screen Dylan's calls anymore, not since that scare he had. I'm hesitant to screen any calls ever anymore. He squeezes my arm and says to say hi from him.

I answer the call as I walk out of the room. "Hey D, what's up?"

"Hey Bennasaur, how goes it?" Shit. I didn't text Dylan. What kind of shitty person am I?

"Well, actually, I'm in a funeral home in Georgia," I say.

"Oh shit, Ben, what the fuck?" All pretense and comedy gone. I explain what's happened and he is pretty shaken. "Shit… I can't even imagine," he says. "How's he doing?"

"It comes in waves. Little stuff, memories and all that will send him spiraling, but he's not pushing me away, thank God, so we're getting him through it. Sorry I didn't call, that was pretty shitty of me to leave the city and not tell you. I texted my parents but haven't called them either. Damn, I'm batting 1000 on my end…" I ramble.

"Hey man, don't worry about me. You just take care of our Seussical and we'll get together when you're back, have a low-key game night or something at your place."

"Thanks D, love you man."

"Love you, too Ben 10. My love to Arthur."

As I am getting off the phone with him, Arthur comes out of the room toward me. I am about to express Dylan's condolences when he essentially flings his arms around me and drops his head against my chest with a thump.

"I need a break," he sighs.

I chuckle and lightly scratch his back. "Come on, there's a lounge downstairs we can let you decompress in." He nods and we walk downstairs hand in hand. "Are you hungry?" I ask as we get to the lounge.

He shakes his head. "I am Hazel Grace and I am aggressively un-hungry." He looks exhausted. He's a pretty solid extrovert and can legitimately make friends anywhere, but I've noticed that he needs some alone or quiet time every so often in order to be that way. He's been "on" all day so far and it's wearing him out.

"Got it," I chuckle. "Come 'ere"

I tug him to a small love seat and tell him to sit on the floor in front of me. He quirks an eyebrow but doesn't have the energy to actively oppose my request. When he sits, I begin to massage his neck and shoulders, to which he groans loudly as his head falls forward. He gives in immediately to the relaxation that I have essentially forced on him. After about 10 minutes, my hands start to hurt and I slow to a stop, brushing his button down back into place where it has wrinkled.

"Where has that been all my life, Ben Alejo, and how do I get more?" he asks, leaning his head sideways against my inner thigh.

"You know exactly where these hands have been," I say suggestively, and he lets out a single "Ha". "But I would be more than happy to work out an even exchange when we get home," I say into his ear, sliding slide my arms down around his neck and holding him tightly.

"Yup, yes. Let's do that." He tilts his head to rest it against mine. "Thank you, Ben." He turns and my grip loosens to allow for a gentle kiss.

"Ready to head back into the lion's den?"

"As long as you're coming with me."

I stand and hold out my hand to help him up. "I wouldn't be anywhere else," I say and kiss his forehead.

The rest of the afternoon passes even more painfully slowly as people slowly filter out of the visitation room. With no one actively seeking our engagement in conversation, Arthur and I are sitting on the couch up front, just holding hands and Arthur's head is on my shoulder. A man walks into the room, greets Art's dad, and seems to offer his condolences. Then he turns and sees Arthur and me. He sees how we are sitting together, and our hands clasped together and his brow furrows.

He approaches us, eyes tight. "Do you boys think it's appropriate to make that kind of display at a funeral home?" he asks snidely. "You know you're in The South, right? Not the big city."

Arthur lifts his head and I don't want to start anything, so I move to disentangle our hands, but he holds on tighter and shoots me a look that says, "Don't you dare." I do not resist; my fingers clasp back around his and he looks up at the man.

"I think it's perfectly appropriate for me to be holding hands with my boyfriend while I grieve my mother who loved me exactly as I am and was pretty excited at the prospect of Ben one day being her son-in-law. If you happen to have a problem with me or my partner, you can take it up with her… oh, wait. Have a nice evening." My eyebrow raises, impressed at the absolute zero fucks that Arthur has to give about this asshole. The man, likely not used to being on the losing end of this particular issue, gets very red in the face and storms out of the room grumbling something about "city kids".

Mike, having seen the encounter, comes over and asks if we are okay.

"Yeah, but would you mind if we head home? We can warm up one of the seven casseroles we have at home," Arthur says as we stand.

"That's fine, bud. We're wrapping up here. I'll be right behind you." He hugs us both and we head out.

When we get out to the car, I quickly look around to make sure that guy is gone and then I pull Arthur's hand, spinning him toward me into my arms. I press him gently against the car door and kiss him breathless.

I run my thumb along his jaw as I keep my body pressed against his and say, "I don't think I've ever been so attracted to you as right this moment. That was incredibly hot." I kiss him again, more gently.

When I pull away again he says, "I just know Mom would have laid into him. It was such a dick move to do here, now." He wraps his arms around me and we embrace tightly for a moment before we head back to the house.

Later that night, as we are getting ready for bed, Arthur specifically requests that I do not wear a shirt to bed. When he comes out of the bathroom, he has a small bottle of baby oil and when he climbs in next to me, he tells me to lay on my stomach. He straddles my hips and then his oil covered hands begin to rub along my spine and over my shoulders. I can feel the stress and tension melt away under the pressure of his touch.

"Now who's been holding out?" I joke as he works his thumbs over the area between my shoulder blades.

"I am a man of many talents," he says suggestively and reaches for the bottle again. I stop him and roll over beneath him, sitting up and wrapping him in my arms. His fingers wind their way into my hair and he rests his arms on my shoulders.

I run my hands over the smooth skin of his back and look into his beautiful blue eyes and ask, "How did I end up so lucky? You're in this unimaginable period of grief and you're still making time to take care of me. You're too good for me," I say quietly.

He shakes his head and brings his forehead down to mine. "Ben, I'm the lucky one. You bring so much joy into my life, but I couldn't possibly have fathomed the lengths you would go to making sure I was cared for during the most tragic fucking time of my life. If anyone is too good for someone in this moment, babe, it's you."

I shake my head. "We'll have to agree to disagree on this one," I whisper, bringing my face closer to his.

I brush my slightly parted lips against his and we are immediately sealed in a kiss. All I want is to be closer to him, so I grasp him tightly around the back and roll us so that I am lying on top of him deepening the kiss. Lips slide, teeth scrape, and tongues explore oh so familiar territory. Kissing Arthur is like feasting on the most delicious dessert that I can never get enough of and I never run out. He is always there, each morning when I wake up and every night when I go to sleep. He is there to hold and to kiss, to laugh and to play with, and to make love to. I hadn't really considered the possibility of actually marrying Arthur until he brought it up the other day, mostly because I hadn't considered myself the kind someone would want to marry. I guess I figured we'd just be together forever, but as I lay here pressed against the most beautiful, generous, loyal man I've ever known, who I could legitimately no longer picture my life without, it hits me like a ton of bricks in my oblivious face. Of course we'd get married. Of course we would want to be bound before God, the court, and our friends and families. I decide in this moment that I'm buying a ring when we get back into the city. We can wait a while for the wedding itself, but I need him to know without a doubt, that I want to be us and only us for forever.

I slow down the kiss and pull back. I kiss his nose and his cheek and nuzzle my nose against his face as we breathe together heavily. "I love you so fucking much," I whisper.

"I love you more," he challenges, adorably breathless.

I back up and grin. "No way, tie?"

"Tie," he agrees, and I move off him to cuddle up behind him. We have a long day tomorrow and we'll both need our energy. Our nightly routine stands as I kiss his neck and shoulder and he kisses my hand that is holding him before we settle into one another and drift off to sleep.

The following day we wake up together to Arthur's alarm. He rolls to face me and tucks his face into my shoulder. "I don't know if I'm ready for this, Ben."

I rub his back with one hand and the sleep from my eyes with the other. "No one is ever ready to say goodbye, Art. All I can tell you is that I know you're strong and I know you'll come out on the other side of this day. I can tell you I'll be right here the whole time."

He clings to me more tightly for a long moment before we both get up and ready ourselves physically for what we could never be ready for emotionally. As Arthur tries futilely to get his hair to cooperate, I come behind him and loop my arms around his waist, rest my chin on his shoulder, and look at us together in the mirror. "You look great, Art," I say quietly.

He lifts a hand to my face and closes his eyes. "Would she be proud of me?" he asks in a whisper.

My arms tighten around him and I turn my face in toward his so my lips are brushing his cheek. "She was so incredibly proud of you, Arthur. I saw it at graduation, I saw it in high school, I saw it every week on facetime. She loved you so much, babe."

He takes a trembling breath and nods as tears pool on his eyelashes. When he opens his eyes a couple drip down his cheeks and he swipes them away. When he's ready, I let him go and we go set up the kitchen for the wake later this afternoon.

Arthur – Friday, April 26th, 11AM

Once we've finished setting up, it is time to go to the funeral home. As we walk in for the last time, I hold tightly to Ben's hand. He stays close knowing how much I need him today, but he is quiet, and I know he's not just sad for me. He's sad for him. He's sad for us. We haven't even begun to feel the ripples of her absence in our future, but we know we will. I will. He will.

The funeral itself is, frankly, boring. There's a lot of chanting of the Hebrew and we sing a funeral song, but at the end, before the song I requested is played, the Rabbi asks if anyone would like to share their own memories of my mom. I didn't realize this was a thing, and now I'm frozen to my seat, not breathing. What if no one speaks? What if no one else has anything to say about my mom? Just as I feel the panic of this start, I feel Ben loosen his grip on my hand and stand. He presses a slow kiss to my cheek, caresses my face lightly, and then walks to the podium.

Ben clears his throat and begins. "Hello, my name is Ben Alejo. I'm Arthur's partner." I love that that's the language he chose. God, I love him so much. My eyes brim with tears as he continues. "I first met Mara when she, Mike, and Arthur were all staying in New York for the summer. The Seuss family came to my family's home for dinner to get to know us as Art and I began spending time together. We live in a small third story walk up in Alphabet City and even though I knew it was not what she or her family were used to, she had such a gracious spirit about our home and our culture. She was open and warm and simply wanted to know us. Over the years I had several opportunities to interact with her through Arthur and, if there's something I know about her, it's how much she loved her son and how proud she was of the man he was becoming." He pauses and looks into my eyes. Tears are streaming down my face and his eyes close briefly, composing himself. "I also know that I, as someone he loves, was immediately welcomed as family with open arms. It is my hope and prayer that, as we all remember Mara, we would be so willing to open our hearts to those who happen into our lives by the grace of God or the chance of the Universe. There is a phrase in Spanish that is in one of Arthur and I's favorite show. In Spanish, Alabanza means to raise something to God's face and sing its praises. Today, we raise Mara to the face of God as we say goodbye. Alabanza. Te amamos, te extrañamos, Nosotras te recordamos. Thank you."

As he returns to me, I am a full-on sobbing mess and he wraps his arms around me as he sits. My dad is sniffling heavily next to me and claps a hand on Ben's should in a show of appreciation he cannot voice in this moment. No one else gets up, so they begin the song and Ben Platt's clear vocals begin to ring out over his simple piano melody as "In Case You Don't Live Forever" plays.

I have a hero whenever I need one
I just look up to you and I see one

I'm a man 'cause you taught me to be one

In case you don't live forever, let me tell you now
I love you more than you'll ever wrap your head around
In case you don't live forever, let me tell you the truth
I'm everything that I am

Whoa... whoa...
In case you don't live forever, let me tell you the truth
As long as I'm here as I am, so are you

In the last repeat of the chorus, I close my eyes and lean fully into Ben. He rocks me gently with the music as we cry together. All the words speak so perfectly to my feelings. I am everything I am because of who my mom was and as long as I am all those pieces of her, she's still here with us. As the song finishes, a final goodbye to the woman who raised me, my face is buried in Ben's shoulder. I am grasping his sweater and crying so hard my face hurts as he holds me tightly.

My dad's hand on my shoulder pulls me gently away from Ben and into his own arms. He needs this moment with me as much as I need it. Ben's hand remains on my back, letting me know he is there. As we begin to pull ourselves together, the Rabbi informs the guests of the wake being held at our house in a couple of hours. We stand as the funeral home attendants begin releasing the rows in the back of the room to come up and express their condolences. People move through quickly with short handshakes or hugs. Ben's hand is in mine or his arm is around me the entire time. At the end of the line, Jessie and Ethan approach us and these hugs are longer, more drawn out.

"Are you guys coming to the cemetery?" I ask quietly.

"We can if you want, honey," Jessie offers as we let go of one another.

"I'd like you there if you can be," I say quietly.

They look at each other and then at me and nod. Ben squeezes my hand. "See? All you have to do is ask," he says with a light kiss to my temple.

Ben and I ride with Dad to the cemetery behind the hearse and Jessie and Ethan follow. This part does not take long. We are led to her plot which is already cleared and a team from the funeral home carries the casket to it. We stand watching as she is lowered down and each of us sprinkle a handful of soil over her casket. Dad squeezes my and Ben's shoulders and says he'll be in the car. I can't seem to make myself move. We have to leave now, and she has to stay. Jessie slides her hand into mine on the opposite side of Ben and rests her head on my shoulder. Tears slide steadily but silently down my cheeks. I don't bother wiping them away, more are coming anyways. Jessie squeezes my hand and Ethan squeezes my shoulder before they head out. I know we have to go soon. We have people coming to the house. I still can't make myself move.

"How do I walk away?" I whisper, almost inaudible. Ben hears.

"You're not alone, Art," he whispers against my cheek, then lightly presses his lips against it. "She is always with you. You're a part of her, so she can never really be gone, right?"

I had had this same exact thought during the song… "Right," I say with a sniffle. I tighten my grip on his hand and we turn together to walk back to the car.

As we head back to the house, Dad asks, "So, when are you two planning to head out?"

"I was thinking Sunday," I pause and look at Ben in the back for confirmation. He's sitting behind my dad for a more direct line to both my hand and my vision.

"Yeah, Sunday's good. I'll book the tickets."

"Let me," Dad says. "We have a bunch of miles. I'll take care of it."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Are you sure? We can split it with…" Ben starts.

"Nope. I'm sure. I've got it covered. You know, I've been thinking about maybe finding a place up north. Moving closer to you guys."

"Would you sell the house?"

"It depends, but this wouldn't be for a while. I just wanted to throw it out there."

I nod. It would hurt to sell the house where all of my memories with Mom are, but New York is home now. Ben is my home.

---

As we are unlocking our apartment, I take a huge sigh of relief. I am sad and I miss my mom, but the feeling of homesickness I've been feeling was for our life in the city and the home we've built here.

"Good to be home," I say as we essentially drop everything just inside the door. Ben closes the door and deadbolts it and finally we are alone.

"Definitely. How are you doing?" he asks as he wraps his arms around my waist loosely. "I don't want to just assume this okayness is going to stick." His eyes tighten with concern.

"But I am," I say, wrapping my arms around his neck, lightly scratching his scalp at the nape of his neck. "I know there are going to be bad moments and even whole bad days, but I know they are coming and I know that I've got you."

"Yes, you do. Forever," he kisses me. We haven't done anything but kiss in about 4 days, so when the low fire begins to smolder in my belly, I do not suppress it. I give in. I press Ben backwards into the wall next to our kitchen and pull my arms down to catch his sweatshirt and pull it up over his head. He catches up to my enthusiasm in no time and whips my shirt off, tossing it across the room. We stumble together, laughing and kissing the whole way into our bedroom where we close the door and express every ounce of love we have for one another.