It was the Monday where the trip would take place, where things started to change even more when it came to Benjamin's behaviour.

Black clouds had thickened the air, making the air feel damp. Rumbling of the thunder could be heard in the distance, light flashes brightening the sky so now and then. The trip was cancelled. I had taken the day off for Benjamin- his teacher wanted a chat. I feared the worst, but didn't speak out my thoughts when Benjamin had given me nervous looks.

It was hard to get him out of his sleep in the morning- harder than it usually took to wake him up. It was something I had noticed more often lately. His sleeping habit had changed. He'd always been a deep sleeper, but lately he slept longer, and the moment he was awake it seemed as if he hadn't been sleeping at all. He never complained about being tired. But I knew better than that. He was just like me, keeping his emotions to himself the older he was getting.

That was part of the problem, too. I didn't know what was going on, other than the stories his teacher kept telling me. His behaviour had been like this for a while now, both his teacher and I were getting tired of it. Whereas his teacher called me with an apologetic tone in her voice for interrupting me from whatever I was doing, Benjamin told me she didn't like him, had laid her focus on him only, therefore was the one who got scolded for every little thing.

When she had asked Benjamin to go to class already so we could have a little chat without him, he had shoved his chair back in great force, but closed the door wisely- with a soft thud. He had kept his mouth shut and his gaze on the floor.

I'd turned my attention to Blake, the young woman who had been his teacher since a little before everything started with Aurora's sickness. I apologised for Benjamin's behaviour, which fed the uncomfortable feelings that appeared inside my guts. The feelings that told me his behaviour really had changed drastically ever since my Aurora had passed.

"Don't apologise." She had shrugged, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Thank you for coming. I know it must have been an inconvenience, but.. I guess it's quite important."

"Don't worry about it. He's my child, and if I can judge from the things I hear and see, this is needed." I sat up more straight, feeling my lower back hurting. Sitting slouched back onto chairs and couches. Bad habit. Hard to get out of a habit.

Blake stared at her nails. Unsure of how to start the conversation. "How have you been all this time? Are you able to process it all a bit, or.."

"I feel better than the last time we spoke." It wasn't a lie. But then again, the way I felt was dependent on every day. There was no such thing of processing the death of your wife. How could you? The pain would lessen, they would say. It was a lie. Each day without her pained me more and more.

"That's great, Zev." Blake was young. Younger than Aurora had been. Probably around her mid- twenties. "I mean, Mr. Malin."

"Zev is fine." I gave her a smile. It faded right after. I felt for her. We had stuffed her plate full last year, and it had only been her first year as an official teacher at the school around that time. How was a girl, in her early twenties, supposed to handle a situation where a mother with a deadly disease, a father and a hopeless son were sat in front of you, asking for a bit of understanding and an extra eye on the young boy in case his performances would be a bit less because of the situation going on at home?

How was she supposed to fish out the psychological role out of her folder of life experiences to try to calm a boy who had just lost his mother, a father who cried along with his son, saying the right things to them for a little support. It had been too much to ask, but she was his teacher- there was no other way. We understood when she was at loss for words, not knowing what to say to make us feel better. It was a tough situation and she didn't have much experience back then- which I had never blamed her for.

I knew she found it tough to talk about Benjamin's behaviour. She was younger. I was his father. I understood it, so I didn't mind when it was silent and she was trying to search for her words.

"I worry about Benjamin." Was what came out first. She looked up at me, her cheeks were rosy, but she pushed herself to talk. "I truly do worry about him. His behaviour is getting out of hand and to be honest, I don't know if I can take it much longer. I've asked colleagues to observe his behaviour and they did- they thought the same about a certain thing.."

I gave her a questionable look. Not knowing where her words were leading to. Or maybe I did know, but didn't want it to go there.

"If his behaviour doesn't change within a month or two, we need to be consequent and send him to another school." Her face was red by now, she looked down for a brief moment before she collected herself and cleared her throat. "I have some reports here, of when the other teachers observed his behaviour.. there's written down what he does. Not to denigrate him in any way, but just to give you an insight about the situation."

Her words struck to me and instantly, I felt short of breath. I played with my ring, shoved it up and down rapidly. No, not a different school. I closed my eyes for a moment, prayed to God that it wasn't needed. I had let Aurora down. Properly. In the deepest of deepest well. I couldn't have this happening- I didn't want to push Aurora deeper into the bottom of the well. Through the mud. Her raising. Her beliefs. Her norms and values. Our raising. Our beliefs. Our norms and values.

When I opened my eyes, I had to blink a few times to get a clear view. Her hand was outstretched, with the reports of his behaviour. I took them from her. Read them. Sentence for sentence. Word for word.

Wears his cowboy hat after several requests of taking it off. Kicks his classmates underneath the table when given a test. Starts making noises during the thirty minutes of reading independently. Fights other boys during recess. Rude in communication when a simple question is asked. Turns around on his chair during the morning opening. Sits onto the table during the fifteen minutes of singing, with his fingers stuffed in his ears. Excludes himself from the group. Shuts himself off. Screams randomly in class. Walks away from school.

I didn't recognise Benjamin in this. Yes, he did have Aurora's temper, but it was preserved. He wasn't afraid to speak out his thoughts when something was unfair to him- when injustice appeared. His voice would be loud, his Italian temper would appear, but when it came to his emotions, he never showed them. They were stuffed away, somewhere deep into his mind. He wouldn't act out on them, he had never done that before.

"Zev, Benjamin has been through something rather.. intense." Blake swallowed. I could tell that she was nervous for my response. "It is awful, for a child like him, especially a boy you know? Where society teaches them that crying is lame, that showing emotions is for girls only. He went through the process of hearing his mother was sick. Heard that there was nothing to do about it anymore. Saw his mother when she wasn't alive anymore. The funeral. The smack that came afterwards when it came to him grieving, processing everything that had happened.. and it pains me that we have to make a decision soon, but his behaviour is so intense.. sometimes my guts feel heavy because I know I have to work and-" She stopped talking, turned red again. "I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"You shouldn't have to feel that way. You'll be crossing your own borders." I said quietly. It was almost inaudible. Went back through the year in my mind, wondering where it went wrong. If it was the way I raised him. Treated him after Aurora's death. If it were his own mind.

"It's difficult, if I may be honest." Blake took a sip of her water, gave me an apologetic look. "I asked my director to hold this conversation. I'm not very good at it." She laughed sheepishly, tried to enlighten the mood. "He's a lovely boy.. something just isn't going well. We offer play therapy in the afternoons after school. Maybe it's something to consider.."

That was hard. Benjamin's eyes had seen something I wish he hadn't, but then again. Was all of this his way of grieving? Had the thing he'd been through traumatic for him? Was he just asking for attention, but in a negative way? Who would tell me? Because Benjamin wouldn't.

Moments later, she had called Benjamin over. He didn't look at me. Played with his hat as he sat down. Slouched back, better said.

"Benjamin?" Blake had turned her attention to him. Her voice had softened. The voice when talking to a child. "Do you know why I called your father here today?" He hadn't answered. Only given her a small nod.

I turned my face, looked at him. His appearance wasn't disinterest. I could tell he was nervous. Ashamed, in a way.

"Let's just have a chat, yeah? I just have a few questions for you." Blake swallowed. Her eyes were on my son, still, but her fingers played with her bracelet. I was glad I wasn't in her position. I wouldn't know what to do if I had to teach a child a lesson, while being younger than the actual parent.

"Benjamin, when your mama passed away, it must have been really tough for you. I cannot imagine what it must feel like, but I do know that it is something that I wouldn't wish upon anyone." Blake cleared her throat. Glanced at me. "Ever since that moment, I feel like you're not having so much fun at school. Maybe it is because you miss mama a lot, or maybe it's something else.. is there a way that we can help you?"

Benjamin shrugged.

"Maybe we can think of a time-out moment.. that when you miss mama a lot, I'll give you some space to go to the 'silent time corner' so you can read, draw, listen to music.. to make yourself feel a little bit better?"

Tears dripped out of Benjamin's eyes. I could tell they were genuine tears.

"Or if you have better options, you can tell me that too. We can work something out.. but do you understand that when you kick your classmates, or make noises when you're supposed to read quietly, your other classmates won't really like it?" Her voice had, again, not the tone to shovel dirt on him, but to help him understand and become aware of what his behaviour could do to others. "To prevent that from happening over and over again, do you think the idea about the silent time- corner is a good one? Would that be able to help you feel a little calmer and better at school?"

He didn't speak. Gave a simple nod.

Blake nodded, too. "Thank you, Benjamin. We can work this out together, yeah?" Benjamin didn't react. He had grown pale when we offered him the play therapy and he had declined with more tears. I didn't want to force him, but if it was the only way to help his behaviour turn back to his normal behaviour again, I'd think it through once more.

When I had picked him up later that day to go home, I drove towards the shops, rather than our home. "Stay here." I had ran back and forth, grabbed what I needed, paid for it and returned to the car. "I have a present for you."

It was the first time that day that Benjamin had looked at me. His eyes looked questionable, his dark eyebrows were furrowed. He peeked what was laid in my lap, lifting his head. I saw the little teeth gap as his lips parted. Placing a notebook with a cowboy cover on his lap, I watched his reaction.

He slouched back, crossed his arms over his chest.

"Benji." I sighed. Unsure of how to bring this without getting worked up about it myself. "When your mother and I were young, before you were even born.. we dreamed a lot about getting children. She knew what she wanted for you, to raise you in the best way we ever could and one thing that she thought was important for you, were our beliefs. The Catholic school was almost always full, it was hard to gain a spot, and it was expensive, but the moment you had to go to school, one pupil had fallen out and we were chosen." I smiled sadly at the memory. "God answered our prayers."

Benjamin didn't look at me anymore. Stared at his shoes.

"Benjamin. Your teacher told me that if your behaviour doesn't change, you have to change schools." I furrowed my eyebrows, tapped his cheek. "I don't know what's going on through your mind, and I wish you'd tell me.. because we're in this together, remember? You and I have both lost the woman we loved most in life and.." Swallowing, I tried to regain my grip onto my emotions. Benjamin didn't know about the guilt I carried with me every single day in life, even if I was sure he was a witness of the day I wished I could do over again. "Mama would be really upset if she knew about this. And I am too. I know it's difficult. It's so.. difficult. But please, for mama, can you try and.. why are you making it so hard for yourself, Benji?"

"I don't know!" Tears dropped onto his trousers.

Sighing, I reached for his notebook. Held it in my hands while memories floated through my mind. "When I was little, I wasn't really good with words. Your grandmother knew that. So when I was taught to write, she gave me a notebook. Told me I could write whatever was going on through my head. At first I was mad, like you." I pulled his nose. "But after that.. as if a weight had lifted off my shoulders. I could write anything. From what was going on through my mind explicitly, or making a little story about it so I could cope with it in a different way. Made my character go through the same so I didn't feel so alone anymore."

"I don't want to write. I hate writing. I hate books." Benjamin laid his head against the headrest, stared out of the window.

"Benjamin, just hear me out." Placing it back onto his lap, I saw how he pushed it away, making it fall to the ground. I let him be. "You don't have to write. I'm not forcing you into doing it- that won't make you help feeling better. I'm only giving you an option, a way to empty that busy mind of yours. You don't have to make stories or whatsoever. Sometimes one word can be enough. You can rip the paper out after writing it, throw it away. Or you can let the words linger in your notebook for a little longer, so you can look back from time to time, see if you feel better."

"Written words are the words your lips can't seem to bring out, and where your hand gives a little help by taking it over and emptying your mind that way." I held his chin between my fingers. "Just like a sunflower, a tomato plant, whatsoever. There will be a point where some of the flowers and plants need a stick to be attached to, a buddy to help them through the storms so they won't snap. We humans need people around us, too. Through the storms of our lives. We cannot do everything alone. And there's nothing wrong with that. God gave us the people around us. And I'm here for you. So, if you're going to use that notebook is up to you, I just gave you an option. If you don't use it, that's fine too."

It became quiet after that. Benjamin had dried his tears. Stared outside the window, still. "Papà?"

"Benji."

"Who will take care of you then?"

"You do."

"I'm just a child."

I looked at him. Softly pinched his cheek, because emotions caught up in my throat. Salomé appeared in my mind. I thought of her. Although she didn't know what was going on in my life, neither did I know what had happened to her, her presence had felt comfortable, and it was something I hadn't felt with anyone after Aurora's passing.

"Papà?"

I hummed.

"What else did you buy from the store?"

I grinned, passed him the ice cream. "What do you think, Campione? I'm not going to let us sulk here about mama, without eating ice cream."

The smile that followed after knew how to stitch the broken pieces of my heart together, little by little.

•

What do you think of the teachers words?

Benjamins behaviour?

Zev's reaction to everything?

Let me know your thoughts!! I would love to read some feedback xx