I didn't go to grieve class every week.

Ever since Mamma's death, I knew Papà had kept her letters in the wine bottles upon the bookshelf in his bedroom. I knew he had read them sometimes, mostly before he got to marry Salomé. I had never given it much thought. I knew in the back of my mind that Mamma had addressed them to Papà, and it wasn't necessarily my business.

However, when I got older, I became curious. Well, maybe curious wasn't the right word. I longed for Mamma, and therefore longed for things that had once belonged to her. Everything she had touched, I wanted to touch, and the letters got close to that. Several times, I had asked Papà if I could read her letters.

Papà had always told me that I could read Mamma's letters when I was old enough. But when was I old enough? Every time I asked, he said that it just wasn't the right time, at that moment.

The more he said that, the more I made up in my mind that he was hiding something from me. And when a parent says no, to do yes is dangerously tempting. So when Papà was at work, and Salomé was downstairs doing some laundry, I sneaked into their bedroom, and searched for the wine bottles.

Much to my disappointment, I saw that the wine bottles had been exchanged for actual books. To be truthful, that hurt me deeply. I had absolutely no business in Papà's bedroom, but it felt like he had replaced her.

Seated upon their bed, I glanced at the pillows, remembering how I laid in between them on Saturday mornings, where Mamma would write Italian words upon my bare back, and where Papà exchanged smiles with Mamma, sometimes turning around to snore some more.

I sighed sadly, looked around, then, next to Papà's side, I noticed a wooden crate, filled with the bottles, the letters still in it. It felt nice that he kept them close to himself while he would sleep, although I wasn't sure if he had placed it there with that purpose.

But before I could reach the letters, Salomé stepped inside the room, with a laundry basket full of their clothes. I felt caught red-handed, cleared my throat while I quickly tried to make up an excuse.

"Benjamin?" Salomé's voice was soft. It always was. I don't think she had ever raised her voice at me. "What are you doing here, sweetheart?"

"Oh, I.. uh- I heard you coming up the stairs and I thought maybe you needed some help." I looked down, staring at my bare, wiggling toes.

I didn't know if she was buying it, but she said nothing. "That's nice of you. Sure, you can help. Do you want to stuff the socks away?"

That's how I found myself putting away all of their clean clothes. It was such a bore, but to keep myself entertained, my eyes kept going back to the wooden crate.

A few days later, on a Saturday afternoon, Papà and Salomé went for some errands. They asked for me to join them, but I thought this was the perfect opportunity to read the letters. So I told them no. I would simply play Hayday on the iPad, or go to Nolan to take the bikes outside. They agreed, so the moment I heard the car drive off, I ran upstairs.

I didn't know where to start. There were many letters, and I had to make sure that they would stay in the same place, before Papà would notice it. I took a picture with the iPad, so I knew the exact order.

Reaching for a few bottles, the smell of wine hit my nose when I opened them. Mamma must have washed them out, but the smell was just too strong. Though, it comforted me that I knew Mamma had tasted the wine, had smelled the same aroma of it.

"Oh, Beniamino, when you turn eighteen.. I will teach you how to drink it!" Mamma would have smiled at me. I knew how to pour in the wine, only listening to the sound of it, I knew how to twirl the wine around the glass so the wine would burst with flavor, I even knew how to take a sip, letting it swirl around in my mouth so the taste would be optimal, although I had only done that with grapejuice, but, it still counted. I knew it all. But Mamma never had the chance to let me do the real thing. I wasn't even eighteen yet, and she was already gone.

With a deep sigh, I opened a few more, then realized it was way smarter to just take one at a time. It wouldn't be so obvious that one was missing, and it was also easier to place it back in the right order. I just had to find a spot to hide the wine bottle where Papà couldn't find it. Involuntarily, I grabbed one, closed their bedroom door and ran over to my room.

After debating where to put it, I figured I could stuff it in the storage box that was full of stuffed animals, mostly horses and bulls. There, it wasn't in danger to break, and, I never looked at that box anymore, so surely Papà wouldn't either.

The first few nights, I didn't dare to read it, was afraid Papà would find out, but he didn't mention anything about a missing bottle, and I could tell by his behavior that he truly wasn't aware of it.

After I was sure of that, I read the letters in small bits. Mamma talked about Eden, about her sick body, about giving her to Papà fully, whatever that meant, and about me. But the words that struck to me, where the ones where she said that she was ready to finally meet Eden.

A few days later, we had another grieve class. On Mondays, Papà and I would decide if I would go. Papà felt the need to observe me, it was something he had discussed with Lavinia because of the nightmares and bed-wetting. If he thought that it was okay for me to go, he would tell me that and I still had the choice to actually do it.

The topic was about death. Of course it was, it was grieve class. But no, today it was death. Just death itself. How did we view it, now that it was something we had 'experienced' from so close? Was it scary? Was it supposed to be scary? All kind of questions were asked and talked about. I kept my mouth shut. For some reasons, I was terrified that they would ask me something that would lead to me confessing that I wet the bed at night. I was so embarrassed, even when nobody asked something remotely close in that direction.

When the class was over and we walked out of the classroom, I reached for Amelie's French braid, softly pulling it. "Amelie, can we meet up after school?"

Amelie smiled brightly, nodding. "Sure! Do you want to talk about the class?"

I frowned, felt how the letter burned inside my backpack. "I guess.. sort of. Where shall we meet?"

"We could meet at my house, or maybe the park? I think my mother picked some fresh fruits from our kitchen garden. I can bring them! Oh, and she made homemade iced tea! Would you like that?"

"Sure." I smiled contentedly. "I'll see you."

After English, Art and Maths, I waved Nolan goodbye. "Maybe we can go to the bike trail tomorrow?"

Nolan shrugged, fooling around with Arthur and Eric. "Maybe."

I watched them walk off, a pang of jealousy appearing in my stomach. When I arrived at the park, I didn't see anybody. So, I simply walked over to the pond, watched how two swans swum by slowly, ducks washing themselves in the grass, and how waterlilies sweetly bloomed.

"Cowboy!" Amelie called for me, waving enthusiastically when she arrived, her hands full with a picnic blanket, a picnic basket and a coolbox.

I ran over to her, took the blanket and the box. "Let me help you."

"Thank you! Such a gentleman!" Amelie laughed warmly, placing the basket down near the pond. We threw the blanket on the grass, sat down and I watched her unpack all the nice foods. She had two plates with fresh fruits: strawberries, watermelon, mango and some cucumber. "Look, I grew the cucumbers, don't you think they just look the funniest?" Amelie showed me the crooked cucumbers, I smiled at her, liked how happy she always seemed.

"Now I feel guilty that I didn't bring anything."

"Puh, nonsense!" Amelie poured the both of us some iced tea. "Although, I would love it if you'd bake those amara.. Ameri.."

"Amaretti?"

"Yes! Those biscuits!"

I laughed. "I will."

"Great." Amelie sipped her iced tea, her gaze on me. I wondered if she could feel my discomfort. "So.. what did you think of today's subject? Did you find it hard?"

"Did you? I barely heard you talk, and you're usually not too shabby at sharing your feelings and opinions."

"Well.." Amelie cleared her throat, turned her voice a little quieter. "I'm not trying to be rude here, alright? But Sophie, you know, the girl with her two blonde braids. She lost her bunny. Her bunny! Okay, I get it, it is quite sad! But she talked the entire time. Why did they feel the need to welcome children from grade two in the group we're in? It doesn't feel quite right, does it?"

"Not really." I chuckled.

"But, I don't know. I think the subject is quite hard, isn't it?" Amelie sighed softly. "Ever since Ottie passed away, I do get scared of it, because I think of all the things that she can't do anymore. She will never drive a car, or get married, or get a baby. She will never see me grow up. All those things, I wouldn't want to miss myself. So in that way, it does scare me, but at the same time, I know she is in Heaven, so I have no reason to be scared of it. What about you then, Ben?"

I stayed silent for a while, didn't really know what to say. After a moment, I remembered the letter, so I opened my backpack and took it out. "Do you remember when I told you about the letters my Mamma typed on the typewriter?" Amelie nodded. "Well, I read one."

"Did your dad finally allow you to?"

"Not entirely." I gave her a sheepish smile. "But I missed Mamma, so I just did it."

Amelie shook her head in disapproval, but she scooted closer to me. "And? You seemed a little off today. Was it hard for you to read?"

"You asked about the subject? I think it must be peaceful." I answered, sincerely.

Amelie gazed at me, her eyebrows slowly turning into a frown. "Peaceful?"

"Yes." I showed her the letter. "Don't you think my Mamma was calm? She seems calm, doesn't she? It must be peaceful. She knows what it's like, after all."

"I don't understand.." Amelie played with the straw of her iced tea. "So, you say that if you were to die now, you'd find it peaceful?"

I shrugged. "I guess."

"Why?"

"Well, because then I know Mamma and Eden are there. And I can finally be with Mamma again. I can hug her, she would kiss my cheeks and I would drink my first wine with her." I took a sip of my iced tea.

"But what about your dad? And Salomé? Don't you think they would miss you?"

I shrugged again. "Maybe, but Papà would have her, still. He won't be alone."

"But that doesn't mean that he would be heartbroken."

I stuffed the letter away, safely. Slowly eating my fruits.

"Benjamin." Amelie sounded upset, it made my heart jump a little. "I don't like the way you're so casual about it. Don't you want to drive a car one day? Drink wine with your mother in your mind, drinking a beer with your dad? Or going to a party or buying stuff with your own money?"

"Yeah, I suppose so." I answered, to not let her worry as much. It wasn't that I wanted to die, no, but sometimes the thought of being with Mamma was more comforting than this life on earth, with all of its sorrows.

-

Do you like Amelie? Do you like their friendship?

Benjamin reading Zev and Aurora's letters? A good idea? Bad idea?

What about Benjamin's words? About thinking it would be peaceful?

Let met know your thoughts xx it really motivates me to read your comments! (: