My Mother Got Married by Barbara Park

my eyes. Ben gave me one last pat and removed his arm. No sense overdoing the hugging stuff. Not when neither one of us was used to it.
    I couldn’t think of anything to say. I guess Ben couldn’t either. The awkwardness was coming between us again. You could almost feel it start to separate us.
    I couldn’t stand it this time. Maybe it was the guilt. Or maybe I just felt closer to Ben than I had before.
    “Thomas fell off the roof,” I blurted out suddenly. “I was out there and he reached for me and I pulled away and he fell.”
    I turned and looked him in the eye. “He did, Ben. I didn’t push him. I thought maybe I did at first, but I didn’t. I wouldn’t have done that. I know I wouldn’t have.”
    Ben took his hand and brushed the hair back from my forehead. Then he looked at me and slowly nodded.
    I waited for more, but it never came. He believed me, though. I could see in his eyes that he believed me.
    We sat there another couple of minutes before Ben suddenly reached across my lap and picked up the photo of Dad and me and the sandbox. It was lying face down next to my leg. He turned it over and smiled.
    The smile turned into a chuckle.
    “Great picture,” he said, laughing softly. “That hoe was twice as big as you were.”
    I sniffed and nodded.
    He reached out and pulled the cardboard box of photos closer.
    “Would you mind if I looked through the rest of these?” he asked, already digging into the carton.
    I felt myself tensing up again. There was something about Ben looking into my box of pictures that felt wrong. I mean, the sandbox picture wasn’t really that personal. But to look through the whole box—I don’t know—it was almost like he was invading my family’s privacy or something.
    I was still thinking it over when I heard Ben take a deep breath.
    “Susan used to take a lot of pictures,” he said almost in a whisper.
    It was the first time he’d ever mentioned his wife’s name. Susan.
    Ben didn’t get weepy or anything. He just stared into space a second and then quickly reached into the box again. How could I say no after that?
    The next picture was the most recent one that Mom and Dad and I had taken together. It was taken in a studio, the kind where the photographer gives you a choice of fake backgrounds to stand in front of.
    I cleared my throat. “Those aren’t really the Alps,” I told Ben. “It’s just a picture of Alps.”
    I wasn’t planning to explain every photograph. I just didn’t want him asking me a bunch of questions about Switzerland, that’s all.
    The next picture was taken during one of our first family vacations.
    Ben raised his eyebrows. “Disney World?”
    “Land,” I corrected.
    He pointed at me in the picture and smiled. “Thomas has one of those Donald Duck hats.”
    My face turned red. I’ve never really forgiven my parents for buying me that hat. I know I begged, but they should have been stronger.
    After another second or two, Ben dug deeper into the carton. I swallowed hard. Now we were getting to the personal stuff. My heart began to beat faster. I was almost positive which picture was next.
    Maybe I should have warned Ben it was coming.
    “Their wedding picture,” I blurted loudly.
    Ben was surprised. You could see it in his eyes. The glass was smudged and dirty with fingerprints from all the times I’d held it. But he lowered it to his lap and stared through the smudges.
    It was one of those pictures that you imagine seeing at the end of fairy tales. My mother was in this beautiful white gown and Dad was wearing one of those suits with a sash around the middle. They were standing in front of the altar in the church, kissing.
    See? I wanted to yell. They really did love each other once!
    I didn’t, though. I just sat there with my heart still pounding like crazy while Ben stared down at the picture. It took him a long time, too. I didn’t have a watch or anything, but it was definitely a while.
    Finally he took a big deep breath and