Page 130 of Worth Every Risk

2. Dream

3. Live the Dream

4. Fall in Love.

I raise my eyes to the sky.I gave it my best shot, Mum. Ticked them all off. What’s next, eh?

The response is a resounding silence that breaks my heart.

I thought I would keep this note forever, but it feels suddenly pointless to hold onto it, and I let the piece of paper flutter into the grave until it settles on the coffin. I take a handful of dirt and throw it on top. The hole is deeper than I imagined it wouldbe. I wouldn’t be able to climb out of it, and the inescapability of it all… of loss, of death, of burial, of the grave itself, fucking terrifies me, but I force myself to hold it together. For Mum.

Turns out, she was right. We’re exactly where we’re meant to be, when we’re meant to be there. Leaving Matt broke my heart, but it meant I got to spend time with her. By the end, she would sometimes forget who I was. She was bloated. Swollen. And yet somehow withered and hollow at the same time. Unrecognisable. But I wouldn’t have traded being able to be there for her at the end for anything in the world, as painful as it was to witness.

“Who is here for you, Aries?” she whispered to me one night, near the end, her fingertips cold and still in my palm. “Who is holding your hand?”

“You are,” I whispered back, and she only smiled, but we both knew I hadn’t answered the real question. Had it been another day, another conversation, before she’d got really sick, she would have said, “No, you wee monkey. When I’m gone, I mean. Who will be here for you then?”

But this wasn’t another day, so she only smiled and squeezed my fingers. I’d wept at her side, breaking, grieving, even while she was still alive, knowing I couldn’t make her stay. No matter how hard I held her hand, I couldn’t keep her here.

I stayed by her side until that shift in breathing occurred, and I knew the end was near. They’d warned me to listen for it; the change in the way we take in air, rattling in the throat, when our body is struggling to perform its most basic, most essential task, for the last time.

In the end, it was she who heldmyhand. It was only afterwards that I was alone.

Earlier today, the church was full. Mum touched a lot of lives, spreading all that positive energy all over the place. She believed that every time you made someone smile you were healing atiny fraction of their soul. Maybe it’s true, maybe it’s nonsense. I don’t know. But either way, I’m not sure as many people would have turned up for me.

There aren’t nearly as many people here for the burial itself. They’ll all have gone ahead to the wake. Beside me, Lizzie throws a handful of dirt into the grave, and then she puts her arm around my shoulder and squeezes. She says nothing, retreating from my side as though she senses my need to be alone.

Slowly, everyone else leaves. I don’t follow, but instead wait until the very end, seeking a private moment with my mother, wondering if I did enough. If I was there enough. If, perhaps, I shouldn't have gone to London at all. But then I remember that pull… that gut instinct that had told me to take the job. That, for some reason, I was meant to go.

What was it all for?

I pull my coat tighter around me. It already feels like autumn, the leaves on the trees turning red and gold. It won't be long before they fall.

“Bye, Mum. I love you,” I whisper. Then, finally, I turn, but the cemetery isn’t empty as I expect it to be.I’m not alone.A man stands behind me on the path that runs through the neat rows of headstones. Tall, dark hair, dark coat, collar popped, hands deep in his pockets. He’s been watching… waiting.

Matt Hawkston.He’s here.

The sight of him steals my breath. His presence is a surprise, and yet… expected. As though part of me knew he’d come. Pieces of my broken heart cleave together, but somehow the fusing hurts just as much as the breaking.

His expression is serious, but there’s a flicker to his lips, his mouth, like he might have smiled if it had been appropriate. It’s just enough to let me know he’s glad to be here. Relieved to see me, even on a day like this.

I pace up the slope, and he comes down towards me, the two of us drawn together like an inevitability. We stop a few feet apart; my heart racing, breaths catching in my throat.

The intensity of his eyes, fixed on me, makes my insides begin to glow.Hope.

“I’m so sorry, Aries.”

Without realising, I’ve stepped up so close to him that I can smell him. The familiar richness of his scent. It makes me ache. “Thank you.”

“Are you all right? I mean, obviously not.” He glances to the open grave behind us, endearingly flustered as he speaks. “But… are you doing okay?”

“I suppose so. I had some time to prepare.”

We’re quiet for a few moments, the drizzle doing its slow work to soak us both, little pearls of it glistening on his coat sleeves, his shoulders. “I wasn’t sure you’d want me to come. Didn’t know if I ought to be here.”

The hesitation in his words makes me want to reach out and touch him. To tell him that, of course, I want him to be here more than anyone else. I long to feel his arms around me. To let him comfort me, hold half my pain. But I can’t. The energy between us, the memories of the things we said, of everything that happened, hang too heavy in the air. I’m not sure I can push through it. Not today.

“I’m glad you came.” It’s not enough to invite him closer, and he knows it. He swallows, pressing his lips together as his gaze dips to the ground.

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