Amelie

It had been a little over a year and a half, but the memories were vivid whenever they appeared in my mind. It was on a Saturday when I heard the news.

A few days a week, I worked at a community garden, where I helped people who had difficulty participating in society. Some had mild intellectual disabilities, there was autism, people who suffered burn-outs, children with special needs and sometimes people with physical disabilities or even grandmothers who didn't have much going on in their lives.

Needless to say, I adored it. I liked listening to the people who needed a little more care, trying to help them with the things they needed help for. I liked the feeling of getting my hands dirty in the soil, admiring the way vegetables and fruit would grow, or how the flowers would bloom in many different ways and colors. But the smiles upon the faces at the end of the day was something I really couldn't get enough of.

The garden was quite big, we grew a lot of vegetables, small fruits and we even had a flower garden where outsiders could pick their own bouquet. We used the vegetables to provide a fresh, healthy meal for all the attendees and besides that we liked to cook for the refugee house, which stood a few houses away. With the fruits, we liked to make smoothies, process them into the cakes or cookies, or simply eat them as a snack. And of course the people who worked in the garden were allowed to take home their own bouquet every week.

The dahlia's were my favourite. I couldn't comprehend how many different kinds there were, how many different colours popped up each time. It was always a long-awaited surprise, each time we buried the bulbs into the ground, the flowers growing slowly in summer. I loved picking them for my mother, the church, or the refugee house.

That Saturday, we had picked a nice bouquet for the refugee house, with apricot and soft pink and yellow colours and we decided to bring them a warm meal, too.

I held up a willow basket, watching how Levi, a fifteen year old boy with Down Syndrome, picked the tomatoes, carefully placing them in my basket. "Levi, what do you want to make with the tomatoes?" It was a calm day today, Levi and Rosemary, a girl bounded to her wheelchair, were the only ones present, the others liked to come throughout the week.

Levi stood still for a moment, his fingers moving quickly whilst he stared up at the sky. "Tomato cookies." He started giggling, looking at me.

"Tomato cookies?" I raised my eyebrows, gasping lightly. "What now. Next we will make cookies out of brussel sprouts?"

"Amelie! That's not.. ehm, delicious!" Levi giggled louder, placing his hands upon his tummy. He stamped upon the ground with his feet, not being able to control his laughter. "Or.. garlic cookies, or.. ehm, eggplant cookies!"

I turned to Rosemary, who's gaze was somewhere far away. "Do you hear that, Rosemary?" Stroking her cheek, I turned closer to her ear. "I have an excellent idea, if Levi is going to be the one to taste them first, we will make them. Don't you agree, Rosemary?" I winked at Levi, helping him pick the tomatoes.

"Amelie, ew!" Levi covered his eyes with his hands. "No, no. Tomato soup! With, ehm.. your Italian bread!"

My own laughter turned into a soft chuckle. "Hmm, I think that is a wonderful idea." With the younger people, I liked to do the meals they chose. Sometimes, the simpler meals were as delicious and easier for them to cook. When we had picked the tomatoes, we went to the community house, where we held our breaks, ate the food and played games when the weather would be too bad.

With the fresh garlic, tomatoes, onions and basil, we prepared the vegetables for the soup. Levi added mascarpone, while I started mixing the ingredients together for the focaccia dough. Rosemary watched us silently.

I swallowed by the thought of the recipe. I could see his handwriting in my mind. I had always thought it was pretty neat for a boy. Step by step, he had written down the way his mother used to make their focaccia's. I knew it was his favourite, and I had always loved it too.

Before I could dwell too deep, Levi pulled me out of my thoughts. "Ehm, Amelie. Can I, ehm.. knead?"

"Of course, sweetheart. Here, put some flour on your hands, otherwise the dough will stick to your hands!" I cleared my throat, and helped him knead the dough, giving Rosemary a piece of the dough for sensory play. Once it was kneaded, we placed it in the refrigerator to rise.

A while later, the tomato soup had cooled off a little and the focaccia's were baked. We packed everything safely for the refugee house. Since it was rather close, we used a handcart, and placed everything neatly in it. Levi loved to pull the cart, so I let him, helping him with the sidewalks and the gravel paths, while I pushed Rosemary's wheelchair.

Once we had arrived, Gloria opened the door. I smiled brightly at her. "Glorie! We thought you would like some tomato soup and focaccia today?" Her eyes raked over the focaccia. I knew what she was thinking of. And she knew what I was thinking of. We knew we both knew, that we knew.

"Oh, that smells lovely!" Gloria turned to Levi and Rosemary. "Did you two cook today?" Gloria winked at me. I smiled at that, leaving the handcart in the hallway.

"Yups, with ehm.. Rosie and Amelie." Levi grinned, reaching for the pan. I instructed him to place it upon the table, I followed him with the bread.

I smiled when I saw the little children running around, playing, chatting, singing. It was never dull in the refugee house. I helped Gloria set the table, greeted Sade, who lived and worked in the refugee house, taking care of the children as if they were her own.

Sade called the children for lunch, while Gloria turned to me. "Are you joining the Church picnic Sunday?" She asked, to which I nodded.

"I'm still debating what to make. Are you going to make anything?"

Gloria hummed, "Salomé is helping me. We're going to make some cultural foods from around the world. She's been to a lot of places, so she has recipes I have never even heard of."

"I should stick to the British high-tea, then." I teased, sitting down at the table beside her. I glanced at her, realised how much I had always admired her. Before I got to know Benjamin, I had never heard of a refugee house, or hadn't ever played with children who came from any other country than England.

When I got to know Benjamin, I started coming over to his house so now and then. Zev, his father and Salomé, the woman who married him after Benjamin's mother had died, had refugee children coming over to their house so now and then. One afternoon, Gloria was there, too. I couldn't understand her French, but we instantly got along and played some afternoons, going for a milkshake when we became teenagers, and bonding as close friends as young adults.

She had been through a lot, fleeing from a country and settling in a country she'd never heard of before, learning a new language, getting used to this very different culture, yet she was always bright. Caring for one another. Putting others needs first. And last but not least, she was extremely forgiving. And that was an aspect that I found incredibly hard. A subject I liked to dismiss as soon as it came up. Especially when it was directed to a certain situation.

"It's the focaccia, isn't it?" Gloria whispered. I blinked my eyes, let out a soft sigh.

"It wasn't my choice to bake it." I nudged my head in the direction of Levi, who was loudly giggling by himself, telling little jokes to his own mind.

Gloria softly touched my hand, then we started the meal. During the meal, Sade got a call. When she returned, she asked for Gloria. For a moment, I was in charge of the meal and the children. It was quite the job, but when I realised no one had left their chair and they had neatly eaten their meal, I was rather proud.

When Gloria and Sade returned, their faces were pale. Gloria glanced at me, her expression had turned into a frown. "Everyone, bring your plates to the kitchen sink, then you can go back to your activities." Her voice was blank, my heart skipped a beat.

"Is everything alright? I asked Sade and Gloria, my eyes glancing between the two.

Sade hesitated, she glanced at Gloria. "I know you're going to do it when I tell you not to, but please don't search for the news. Not right now."

"Why? What is it?" My heart thumped louder in my chest, to the point where it started to hurt. My guts told me it was him. Gloria confirmed it.

"Salomé called. It's about Benjamin. But it's.." Gloria's breath hitched, she cleared her throat. "I can't even imagine.."

I reached for my phone, but Gloria stopped me. "No, Amelie. Not here. Not before Levi and Rosemary are home, safe and sound."

A moment later, Rosemary was picked up by her parents, and I brought Levi home. His daytime activity was over, and my head was a proper whirlwind. I instantly went over to the Beany Business, remembering they sold papers, solid ones. Broadsheets, and not the tabloids. Which made it all even worse. I bought one, along with a cappuccino and paid Nolan, Daniel's son who helped Daniel with the coffeeshop so now and then I tried to read his expression. It was stone-cold. Not towards me, but towards the news. His jaws clenched, he couldn't even say anything.

I went to the seat that was most far away from the counter, took a deep breath and wanted to turn the paper around, but for some reasons. I couldn't. I knew that my world would fall apart, all over again, and I wasn't sure if I could survive that for the second time. Because of him.

Squeezing my eyes closed, I turned the paper around, slowly opening my eyes. Black and white photo, it seemed nighttime. The quality wasn't great, but anyone who knew him, could tell it was him. In a bed, exposed upper body, a young girl beside him, both covered with the covers, his arm draped around her. He was asleep, the girl looked away. Terrified. The title said that he was caught, sleeping with a twelve year old girl.

I broke a million times more than I'd already had.

I felt numb, everything happened in a haze. When Sunday came, I had managed to bake something, but I didn't bother to taste it. I wasn't hungry. I think no one really was. Zev, his father, hadn't been present in the morning service. Salomé had been there. She had not stayed for coffee time, no one had the chance to talk to her. I could understand why she did not stay.

During the picnic, Salomé and Zev did arrive. Salomé was quiet, but she greeted people with small smiles. Zev was physically present. That was all. His face was blotched, his jaws clenched so now and then, he did not make eye contact with anyone. Didn't connect, even when that was something he always did. Including everyone, making sure everyone was seen.

Teddy, the pastor, opened the picnic, and thankfully, people started chatting right away, getting food, laughing, trying everything to forget the dreadful news that had caught the village. I was seated with Gloria and Laura, Nolan's wife, and their one year old little boy Oliver. We were almost next to Zev and Salomé. I couldn't help but listen to their conversation with Teddy.

When Zev raised his voice, I couldn't help but look at him. His was rapidly biting his underlip, trying everything in his power to keep the tears in. "He didn't do it! I do not believe it. I'm refusing to believe it. No matter what happened, nothing would ever lead to that!" He practically whisper-screamed into Teddy's face. A moment later, he stood up and walked off.

He did not come back. Salomé chewed the insides of her cheeks, staring at the ground while Teddy kept talking to her with a reassuring voice. Even though I was torn apart, I could imagine she would be even more.

It had been eight years around that time since he'd gone without saying a word. Eight years without even trying to get in contact with the people who had always surrounded him. Eight years. And seeing his parents this broken, tore everything apart within me. 

-

What do you think? Is it true what happened? 

Did Benjamin wander so far that something would lead to that?

And how does he know Amelie?

Much love, let me know your thoughts. xx