Happier Than She's Ever Been... (15 page)

May felt her heart contract again. ‘That true love is when you love another person more than you want them to love you.'

‘Right, exactly, so you tell them the truth. You tell them what they might not want to hear. You tell them what might make them hate you. But you do it to try to save them from themselves because, if you don't, they might just lose their way forever.'

‘Yes.' May nodded. ‘Yes.'

‘But I didn't. I just thought about myself, the whole time,' Ben said, ‘and I told myself I was just thinking of you, being generous with you, letting you get away with being self-obsessed for a little while, letting you be imperfect, loving you unconditionally –'

‘And you were, and that was amazing of you. That's part of true love: loving the whole of someone, all their flaws, who they really are, not just the good stuff, not just who you want them to be.'

‘Yes, I get that,' Ben said, putting his book down and running his finger along the edge of the desk, ‘and it's right. But can't both be right at the same time? Can't you tell someone the truth about their behaviour while still loving them, in spite of it? Can't you be honest
and
loving? Can't you tell the truth about what you see, and do it with love, kindness, compassion… Surely unconditional love isn't about silence; it's about taking care of your beloved, to the very best of your ability.'

May took a few steps to the desk and sat down next to him. Very slowly, Ben reached out, took her hand and held it in his.

‘I think people get confused,' Ben said. ‘I know I was. They think unconditional love is letting someone be, without saying anything. But now I know that to truly love is to say something, without judging.'

‘I'm not sure I… what do you mean?'

‘I mean, you don't yell and scream about how selfish someone is; you don't blame them for their choices, or try to get them to feel bad. You just state the facts, as you see them, kindly and calmly, and let them decide what to do with it.'

‘Well,' May said, ‘that sounds pretty amazing. But I still don't know if I would have listened to you, even if you'd done that then. I think I was too lost' – she gave a little smile – ‘too self-obsessed, to hear you.'

‘Maybe,' Ben said, ‘maybe not. But perhaps you underestimate yourself too. You ever think of that?'

‘No.' May smiled at him. ‘I didn't, but –'

Ben smiled back at her. ‘Well, I believe that if we say something, anything,
truly
to help the other person, and our relationship with them, without any underlying anger, blame, criticism… then they'll be able to hear what we say, without getting defensive, without screaming denials and hating us for it, because they'll feel the love with which we'd said it, and they'd know that our intention is pure and true. Then, I think, it's possible to tell someone almost anything and they'll listen and look for the truth of it inside themselves.'

‘Anything?' May was beaming now. ‘Even when you're telling them that they're being selfish and self-obsessed?'

‘Yes!' Ben laughed, pulling her into a hug. ‘Even that. Although, not being judgemental, you wouldn't put it quite like that, would you?'

‘True, true. So,' May went on, breathing in the smell of him, almost unable to believe they were holding each other again, ‘where did all this amazing wisdom come from?'

‘Hey, how do you know I didn't come up with it all by myself ? You think I'm a duffball?'

‘A duffball?' May laughed. ‘What on earth's that?'

‘I don't know, but it ain't someone smart.' Ben squeezed her. ‘I've been chatting with Lily. She comes into the bookshop sometimes and we talk…'

‘Lily?' May asked. ‘Really?'

‘Don't worry.' Ben looked at her with a twinkle in his eye. ‘I didn't sleep with her.'

May raised an eyebrow.

‘Well, maybe we just fooled around a little…'

‘Not funny.'

‘Sorry, too soon for jokes?'

‘No,' May replied, smiling, ‘I just thought you knew.'

‘Knew what?'

‘That Lily's a lesbian.' May giggled at the look of surprise on Ben's face. ‘She's been with her lover, Megan, for over twenty years.'

‘Ah,' Ben said, ‘so that's why she was immune to my charms.'

May raised an eyebrow. ‘Yeah,
that's
why.'

Ben laughed and kissed her. Warmth flushed May's skin and her lips tingled. ‘I love you.'

‘I love you too.'

‘So, do you think we can do all that compassionate honesty stuff ?' May asked. ‘Do you think we've got what it takes?'

‘Well, I think it's an essential ingredient to a happy relationship,' Ben said, ‘and without it we'll end up floating apart, separating like… like butter and milk in a bad batch of pancake batter.'

May laughed. ‘Okay, but why the bizarre cooking metaphor?'

‘Shut up,' Ben retorted, tickling her. ‘Because I'm starving, that's why. I haven't eaten in, like, ten hours.'

‘Well then, I say we go upstairs,' May said, ‘and eat.' She stood up, reaching out her hand to pull him up. ‘What do you fancy?'

‘Pancakes.'

‘All right,' May said, ‘but not those small and thick, weird American pancakes. The real ones: thin and crispy with lots of sugar and lemon.'

‘Crêpes,' Ben said.

‘You call them that,' May said, smiling, ‘but to me they're plain old pancakes, just like my mum used to make.'

B
IRTH

Ben and May strolled along the pebbled paths of the Japanese Tea Garden, hand in hand. The sun was setting slowly behind the trees and they walked in silence. It had been almost six months since May had come home and she felt better than ever before. They were applying compassionate honesty to their relationship and it was working wonderfully. It was perfect. Not completely calm and utterly unblemished, which is what May used to believe a perfect relationship should be, but much better than that. She discovered that a deeper, more profound perfection was to be found in forgiveness, empathy and compassion. With trust and truth, they began to heal many of the hurts they'd been carrying since childhood, just as Rose had promised they could. And May discovered that the old lady was right all along: love that stayed true in the presence of all your flaws was a much greater experience than love that was simply flawless.

And then Ben stopped walking.

‘Hey.' May turned to him. ‘What's up?

‘Why don't you want children?' Ben asked. ‘I'm sorry, I keep telling myself not to ask, not to pressure you, but… please tell me.'

May looked at him. ‘How do you know I don't?'

He shrugged. ‘Things you've said. Things you haven't said. The way you reacted last time I asked.'

‘Oh yes, that,' May remembered. ‘Sorry about that. Well, it's just… I always thought I'd lose myself. I'd become a mother and I wouldn't know who I was any more. And I've always been just a little terrified that I'd mess up so completely my kids would need therapy till they died. That too.'

Ben laughed. ‘Why on earth would you think that?'

‘I supposed because I always thought I was a mess.' May shrugged. ‘So, it stood to reason I'd be a mess as a mother.'

‘You're not a mess.' Ben stroked a wisp of hair from her face. ‘No more so than anyone else, anyway.'

May laughed and said, ‘Oh well, that's all right then.' She looked at Ben, trying to think of another joke to lighten the mood. But she could see in his eyes that he was serious, that this was a subject he'd thought a lot about. Suddenly May panicked, scared that if they stood there any longer he might ask her to talk about things she just wasn't ready to share, memories she didn't want to revisit. ‘Come on, let's go. They'll be closing in a minute. We don't want to get locked in.'

May started walking, her hurried steps scattering pebbles, leaving Ben gazing after her, wondering what on earth was going on.

‘I can't do it Fay, I can't.' May sat at the desk in her room, twisting the phone cord between her fingers, gazing out of the window into a thick fog. ‘I just can't.'

‘Well,' Faith said, ‘whether or not you've got what it takes isn't really the point right now, is it? The real question is: do you want to?'

May was silent for a moment. ‘No. Yes. I don't know. I never did, before I met Ben. And now I just…'

‘What?' Faith asked softly. ‘You… what?'

‘I feel… I feel…' May stumbled, almost too scared to put it into words. ‘Sometimes I feel a completely overwhelming desire in my heart to do it. But then I think I'm just being mad, naïve, stupid…'

‘Being a little hard on yourself at all?' Faith asked, a light tone in her voice.

May giggled. ‘I suppose so. But I just… I really, really don't want to mess up. Not that. I mean, I figure if I mess up my own life, in the end the only person I really hurt is me, but with a kid –'

‘And Ben,' Faith said, ‘and of course everyone else who loves you.'

‘Well yes, true,' May admitted. ‘But, I mean, even if Ben and I split up he'd be okay, he'd move on and all that. But with a kid… you mess that up and they don't get over it; it wounds them forever.'

‘Says who?' Faith asked.

‘Well, everyone knows that,' May said. ‘I mean, if your parents mess up, then they mess you up forever. They bequeath you loads of… “baggage”; you carry it for the rest of your life, and you have to spend loads of time learning how to let it go. And I don't want to do that. I don't want to be responsible for permanently messing up somebody else's life.'

Thinking she'd made the definitive point, May looked out of the window again and wondered if the fog would clear, squinting through it, trying to see the bridge.

‘You know,' Faith said, ‘I don't think this is about fear. I think it's about forgiveness.'

May was silent for a moment. ‘What?'

‘I don't think this is
just
about you being scared of being a bad parent,' Faith said. ‘It's about you still blaming your parents for all the issues you've ever had: low self-esteem, lack of courage, all that stuff…'

‘No,' May said firmly. ‘No, that's not true, I don't, I don't –'

Faith stopped her. ‘Hey, remember what you told me about living in denial? Well, perhaps if you don't say “no” so quickly, and give yourself a moment, you might realise I have a point. Perhaps, possibly, maybe…'

‘Sorry,' May said softly. ‘Yes, I suppose you might, just possibly, have a point.'

‘Good!' Faith clapped. ‘I thought so.'

‘How did you know?'

‘Deduction. Supreme intelligence. Intuition. Your cousin is not to be trifled with, you know.'

‘Yes, I'm starting to see that.' May smiled.

‘The thing is,' Faith explained, ‘if you blame your parents, especially your father, for giving you “issues” that messed you up, then you'll blame yourself for whatever happens to your kids, whether or not it has anything to do with you.'