I nod to her.
“I can’t imagine that was easy to tell me, but truthfully, it is good news to me. It makes me feel better to know that Ben had the inclination to tell me. Even if he didn’t actually do it.”
I nod again. It’s her time to talk. I’m just keeping quiet.
“Anyway, it’s in the past. I didn’t know you then, you didn’t know me then. It does neither of us any good to hold grudges. Ben made his own decisions, regardless of how we may have tried to influence them. He is responsible for what he did. You are not. I am not. He loved you enough to marry you the way he did. What mother doesn’t want that for her son? You know, you have a boy and you raise him right and you hope that you’ve raised the kind of son that knows how to love and does it well. Especially as a mother, you hope that your son is sensitive and passionate; you hope that he knows how to treat women well. I did my job. He was all of those things. And he loved. He spent his short time on this earth loving. He loved you.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I’m still sorry I didn’t tell you that earlier.”
“Put it out of your head.” She waves her hand at me. “The other thing that I want to tell you is . . . I would have liked you,” she says. “I don’t pretend to understand your relationship with your parents. That is between you and them. But I would have liked you. I would have wanted you to marry my son.”
Hearing her say that, I get the feeling that I have done all of these things out of order. I should have met her, then married him; if I did, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe Ben would be here next to me, eating peanuts and throwing the shells in an ashtray.
“Thank you,” I say to her.
“I’ve thought a lot about you and I recently. I think I haven’t truly begun to cope with Ben’s death. I think that I am still mourning for my husband, and the loss of my son is . . . it’s too huge to bear. It’s too large to even begin to deal with. I think having you as a part of my life, helping you to deal with this, I think it’s helping me to avoid dealing with it. I think I thought that if I could help you to get to a place where you could live again, that I would be able to live again. But I don’t think that’s the case.
“When Ben was little, he used to get in bed with Steven and I and watch Jeopardy! every night. He didn’t understand any of the questions, but I think he liked hearing the blooping noises. Anyway, I remember one night I was lying there, Ben between us, and I thought, This is my family. This is my life. And I was so happy in that moment. I had my two guys. And they loved me and I belonged to them. And now, I lie in that same bed and they are both gone. I don’t think I have even begun to scratch the surface of what that has done to me.”
She doesn’t break down. She’s calm but sincere. She’s lost. I don’t think I could see it before because I was so lost. I’m still lost. But I can see that Susan needs . . . something. She needs something to hold on to. For me, she was that something. She was the rock in the middle of the storm. I’m still in the middle of the storm but . . . I need to be a rock too. I realize it’s time I was supportive as well as supported. I think the time for “This Is All About Me” actually ended quite some time ago.