"Zev, take these scissors. I want a long bob."

"What? But-"

"Amore, come on. A long bob. I've always wanted to know how it would fit me. Now is the chance, before it all will turn to dust." Aurora held my cheeks in her warm hands, brushed her thumb over my stubbled skin. "I don't care if it's not straight. Come on, Sole. Please?"

With the kitchen scissors in my hand, I watched how she sat down onto the chair, determined. I noticed now how her once fitting clothes now hung loosely around her thin body. Her skinny fingers, the bones lightly sticking out. Her deep sunken eyes. Her breathing that picked up whenever she would do something little.

"Come on, Amore."

She held a mirror in front of her. I saw our reflections as I stood behind her. I rested my chin upon her shoulder. Kissed her. Not once. Not twice. "Bella vita."

Aurora started laughing. Soft, sweet. A melody I wished my ears could hold onto forever, making it echo through my mind. Flooding along with waves of sadness that would hit me later.

"Agreed, Sole." Aurora turned around, I watched the two of us kissing through the mirror. "But I don't think you meant to say that."

"I said you're beautiful."

"No. You basically said that life is good."

"I mean.. bella Aurora."

She gave me one of those smiles. "Forza, ragazzo. Chop it off."

I watched her hair fall to the ground.

"Ragazzo.."

"Ragazzo.."

The colors of dawn honored the nature beneath her, displaying it with the brightest of orange, pink and golden, waving goodbye to the darkest of night. Warm kisses passed out to the stars, changing shifts, their time to rest so they could take over at night.

Dew. Drops on grass. Mist on the lakes. Clouds low between the mountains. Breeze. Goosebumps. Especially on her bald skin. She lay on my lap. My fingers brushing over skin, wiping away the tears falling. "Why do you have to be so sick? Why couldn't they heal the disease?" I'd asked the question about a million times already that morning.

Aurora tried lifting her head, but her weakness beat her strength. She started singing. "How does one solve a problem like Aurora's?"

"Aurora.." I cried like a kid.

"Sole, the morning will come back." Her strength pushed harder, she sat up. Our eyes met. "Have you not seen it happen for every single day of your life already? No matter what happens, no matter what we go through.. the morning will come."

"I will not see the morning, not without you by my side."

She pushed her fingertip upon the tip of nose. "That's where you're wrong." A kiss. "Sole, have you seen the amount of stars at night? The many planets, the milky way, everything racing past each other? Hasn't it been like that for decades? Nothing can push the sun out of its way. So after your night's sleep, you will see the morning."

"Amore-"

"No, Zev. I mean it." Her arms around my neck. "Will you listen to me? I know things will be hard, they will be so difficult. It pains me, tears me in pieces knowing I have to leave the two boys I love most in life behind, but still, will you remember the dawns we have watched together? The hope it portrays? That no matter how dark the night'd been, the joy is just under the horizon, the sun will come, and the morning will come back for us? For a fresh start? Tons of hope and new chances? Every single day? No matter what yesterday looked like?"

"Dear Sole, when the morning comes, everything will be okay."

"When the morning comes.."

"When the morning comes.."

"Ragazzo.."

"When the morning comes.."

"Ragazzo.."

"When the morning comes.."

"Ragazzo!"

A stick pricking into my stomach. Wetness swiping over my cheek. Warmth, but extreme cold. "Svegliati! Ragazzo!"

I reached for my cheeks with my hands, causing pain to shoot up my whole body. I grunted, tried to roll onto my side, but the surface was not smooth. When my eyelids had finally opened, I saw a dog hovering over me, barking into my face, then licking it as enthusiastically as his tail was sweeping in the air.

A shoe poking my side. I looked up when the dog was pulled away. An elderly man was rattling something in Italian, a deep frown creasing his forehead, his hands moving up and down.

I tried to sit up, but my sore body wouldn't budge. I realised I was laid upon rocks near the lake, the man was probably taking his morning stroll with the dog. "I'm sorry. I don't understand."

The frown faded instantly. He remained silent for a moment, before, though faulty, English words left his chapped lips. "So early? You.. put on clothes."

I readjusted my underwear quickly, feeling how it had dried up, except for my behind. "Scusa."

"What is you.. here?" He held his dog back from licking me. And when I saw how the dog's eyes bulged out and slime dripped down his, too long, tongue that hung out of his mouth to the left, I was thankful for it.

"I don't know."

"Cappuccino?"

"I'm good, thank you."

"Where.. casa?"

I pointed at the lake house. But couldn't look at it.

"Car?"

"I'll be fine."

"Sì? Car?"

"No, no. I will.. swim." I gestured with my hands, hoping he'd get my note.

He rolled his eyes. "Idiota." He mumbled, before he turned around and left me alone. I watched him until he was out of sight.

With my eyes falling onto my sore body, I saw how some places on my skin had been torn open, bled, and dried up. I couldn't recall exactly how I'd gotten here. Thoughts had clouded my mind to the point where I just continued to swim until my muscles and body had started to hurt.

Tiredly, my mind pushed my eyes to look at our little, Italian home. The lights were still off. It was rather early. Had he gone to sleep? Was he still sleeping now?

I stared for an eternity. Recalling the restless dreams I'd had of Aurora. The day where we had cut her hair into a long bob. Many strands of hair weren't cut straight, but Aurora had loved the haircut. Had twirled around me, wrapped her arms around my neck and whispered to me.

"If you can be a perfectly fine hairdresser, you can do anything."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"It won't always be going smoothly and straight on, there will always be bumps along the way, but as long as you keep on dancing, you'll be okay." She shook her hair into my face, with her childlike grin.

"You're something else." I had said, as I'd plucked the loose hairs off my sweater.

Swallowing away my tears, I blinked my eyes, my gaze falling back upon reality, instead of the memories. As my eyes turned to the sky, I saw how the biggest Artist had repainted the dark blue sky into a bright orange glow, with the clouds a pinkish shade, swipes of yellow smeared right through it.

And that's when a thought suddenly struck to me. Aurora had inspired tons of people around her, whether it be about the story of what had happened in her youth, or whether it be about the way she lived along with a disease, with the many hearts she handed out to people she did not or barely knew, only to give them a smile upon their faces. But in the end, the person she had tried to inspire mostly..

Had been me

And as my eyes tried to absorb everything the sky was giving me at this moment, something washed over me. The hurt, the tears, the melancholy I'd felt every single day. It slowly seeped off me. Not all of it- but a great part of it.

She'd tried everything to make me feel better. To prepare me for what was to come after she would have left the earth. Gave me more than enough to survive. Her faith, her piece of mind, her warmth. More than that.

I'd mostly been there when she spoke to people she didn't know, when she passed out the hearts, and now I knew that all of her spoken words were always directed towards me, too.

I thought of her letter, how I needed to take on the help, because I couldn't do it alone, and there wasn't anything wrong with that. Didn't the morning give us new chances every day? If we failed the day before, it only gave us hope for what was to come the day after? If it wasn't for me, then for the sake of my own boy.

There was still a lot of hurt, unspoken thoughts, regrets, guilt, but piece by piece. Step by step. Maybe, I would get there. Even though the road was long and, in Aurora's words, bumpy, you had to be the one yourself to put your own foot on that path first. And perhaps, I'd just done that.

I stood up. My body was intensely sore, my legs could barely hold me up, but I dove right back into the water. Gasped. Groaned. Blinked away tears, and started the journey back. The closer I got, the faster I went. I needed to see him, I needed to hold him. I swam and swam and swam.

The sky'd gone even brighter, even more colorful. Birds started to sing. Had they always done that? Or hadn't they ever stopped and I just had forgotten to listen?

I struggled to get out of the lake, fell down a couple of times, scraped my knees open upon the little stones that laid on the bottom of the waters. Gripped wrongly and fell flat face back into the water. But when I stood back up, I stood face to face with Benjamin.

His eyes'd turned red. Traces of wetness running down his face. Crooked pajamas. With the side of it messily tucked into the shorts. He let out a painful sound, threw himself into my embrace.

He was warm. I held him like there was no tomorrow. He weeped, couldn't stop. "I thought you'd never come back, Papà."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. For everything I have ever done to you."

"You never did me wrong, Papà."

I'd craved to hear those words. I buried my face in his shoulder. He smelled like sleep and laundry detergent. Our beating hearts touched gently.

With my feet still in the lake, drops of salty water dripping down my body and my boy in my arms, we stood there for God knows how long.

It was when I felt how Benjamin was starting to shake under the colder embrace it must have been for him, that I took him with me into the lake house, closed the door and took him to the fireplace with me. "Do you want to learn how to put it on?"

"Really?" His blotchy face and teary eyes lightened up a little.

"Well, I'm really cold and since Mamma didn't want a heater here and only a fireplace to keep us warm with, we don't have much choice, do we?"

"I would love that." Benjamin ran over to the kitchen, snatched the match-box off the counter and opened the small box before he'd even returned back to me. "Can I get the fire ready?"

"No, amore." I took the box out of his hand, pointed at the wood. "We need to set this up first, or were you planning on setting the house on fire?"

Benjamin laughed.

I taught him how to set up the wood like a little tent, the firelighters, and then finally let him generate the fire. He clumsily laid the small fire into the fireplace, hissed, pulled back his hand and tried again and again, until the fire started spreading, lightening the room in a cosy color.

We sat back. Knees pulled up. Watched. Heard the sound of the crackling wood.

"What happened, Papà?" Benjamin whispered, traced his fingers over the wounds that littered my body.

"I'm a clumsy swimmer, it seems."

"Do you want me to draw you a warm bath?"

I looked at him. "That would be lovely."

He stood up, ran over to the bathroom. I heard the squeaking sound of the faucet as it turned on, the drops falling into the tub. I rested my cheeks onto my arms as they leaned onto my knees, staring at the small, cosy fire he'd made. Would things finally fall into place?

After a while, he called me over. The bathroom smelled like vanilla and spring. He turned timid. "I used Mamma's body wash. I hope you don't mind."

I didn't know how much he'd squirted in there- the amount of bubbles and foam was insane. But the smell took me back to her. "I love it."

"I love it too, when it smells like her."

I pinched his cheek. He left me alone. Once in the bath, silence engulfed me. I stared out of the small window. Saw how the sun had risen fully. "Amore? Is Teddy still asleep?"

Benjamin had kept standing near the door, for his voice was heard close and right away. "No, Papà.." A moment later, a small note was slipped underneath the door.

Reaching for it with my hand, I turned it around curiously.

Don't worry, son. I left your home when I saw you were near Benjamin. I had to go home. I figured after last night, well, things might have dawned upon you. Tomorrow is the lawsuit of Davu and Gloria. I need to prepare. And remember, no matter what, one call for help and I'll be there. Take care, Zev. - Your Pa.

The lawsuit.

Dried off, I stepped into my clothes and opened the bathroom door, almost bumping into Benjamin. I looked down at him, he looked up at me. "Everything alright?" He hadn't left the bathroom door.

"Yeah." He gave me a soft smile, turned around and started playing with his cowboy toys.

I let him be, and for the rest of the day, we ate, rested and exchanged small conversations. When the night had fallen, Benjamin climbed upon my bed. Played with his fingers. I crouched down in front of him, brushed my fingers over his knees. "Benji?"

He looked down at me.

I tugged at his shirt. "May I?"

His gaze tore away from me. Ashamed, in a way, but nodded. I took off his shirt. Swallowed as I saw the many bruises scattered all over his upper body. From his chest to his lower tummy. His upper body rose quickly as he breathed. His eyes never meeting mine.

My thumb brushed over every single bruise there was. I couldn't help it, but a few tears rolled down my cheeks. "Why, Benjamin?"

Benjamin laid his smaller hand on top of mine, moving along as I continued to touch his bruises gently. "Because it hurt too much sometimes." He hesitated, blinked his eyes rapidly. "In my head. And heart."

"Why couldn't you pinch me? Knock some sense into me? Make me aware of it all?"

Benjamin nibbled onto his upper lip, not being able to hold back his own tears. "I knew your head and heart hurt too. I didn't want to burden you, Papà."

"You would have never.. ever." My thumb brushed away his tears.

"I won't do it ever again." He whispered, his eyes screaming despair. "I promise, Papà."

I squeezed his cheek between my fingers. Kissed his nose. "Did anyone ever know?"

"Nonna saw when she took my shirt off because of the boiled water. And.. Salomé."

Why didn't she say anything? Why'd she never done anything about it? Wasn't it concerning to her? She'd know it, would she? With her knowledge about children, therapies, whatsoever?

"Don't be mad at her, Papà. Please. I hid everything." He cried more tears, wrapped his arms around his upper body. "She thought.. she thought I told my Papà everything."

"But how?"

Benjamin slid off the bed, slowly walked over to his backpack. He stuck his hand into it, reached far into it. Eventually, he took out many letters. Handed them out to me. "I'm sorry."

Dear Mr. Moretti. My name is Salomé Livingstone, living near the Beany Business café, supervising day activities for refugee children and children with a tough time at home, whether it be because of poorness or something else. I have spoken to your son, Campione, today. He tells me a lot about the loss of his beloved mother whenever he comes to visit to ride onto the mechanic bull I have standing in my backyard. I was wondering if it would be okay to work with him sometimes, as he tells me he likes playing with the bull and answering questions. I have studied pedagogy, and done many courses and education on how to properly give children play therapy. I hope to get your consent. Please give me a call, or write me back so we can meet and discuss things. Dearest regards, Salomé.

Mr. Moretti? Campione?

Dear Mr. Moretti. Thank you for your response. Could we meet up in real life some time? It would give me some relief to have a face when he mentions his father, and we can speak some things through. I like to hear the parents' view on certain things before working with the child. Today he came in rather calm, but he seemed really tired and had wet his trousers at school, which had upset him deeply. He didn't answer when I asked if it happened more often. Do you, by any chance, know more about this situation? It can be hard to ask the right questions at times, when you don't know the other situations surrounding him. Dearest regards, Salomé.

Dear Mr. Moretti. I would like to meet up with you some time. What about ten am on a Saturday morning at the Beany Business café? Campione says he does not live far from there. Hope to see you there. Dearest regards, Salomé.

Did anybody show up, at all?

Dear Mr. Moretti. You ask why I want to help out your son? My true apologies if I misunderstood your consent of helping him in the first place. I want to help out Campione, because he seems to be hurting deeply and cannot go out of the well himself. I hope, with the play therapy, that he may be able to cope with his great loss in a way that feels right to him. I would love for him to feel better, because when a child hurts so deeply, in a way, it hurts me deeply, too. Perhaps, because as a child, I went through something rather tough, too. Again, my greatest apologies if I misunderstood you and you believe I have the wrong intentions. Will you contact me again? Dearest regards, Salomé.

Dear Mr. Moretti. Campione stormed inside my backyard rather upset. He couldn't stop throwing words around, and the most I could get out of it was that he missed his mother dearly and couldn't stop crying and hurting himself. When I asked him what he meant with hurting himself, he became quiet and pale. I tried to ask further, without wanting to upset him more. Eventually he lifted up his shirt and showed me his upper body. It was full of old and fresh bruises. I'm not sure if you're aware of it, but if you aren't, can you please contact me? I truly want to help him out even further. Thank you for letting me work with him all the time before, but this fact has given me great sadness and the willingness to go deeper and work a little more intense with him, so I can get to the core of his sore heart. Will you let me? Dearest regards, Salomé.

Dear Mr. Moretti. It has come to my notice that we have not met before and every time we are trying to meet, something comes in between. Sorry if this comes off rude, but who are you, really? And.. do you even exist? Dearest regards, Salomé.

"Don't be mad at her, Papà." Benjamin cried silent tears. "It's all my fault. I said my name was Campione. I said we were called Moretti. I didn't want her to contact you. I just wanted to be there.. because.."

I looked at him. Saw how there were many more letters. In almost every letter, she asked to meet up, so we could talk about it all. She hadn't been reckless. She had been careful, considerate. Everything I had convinced myself she hadn't been. "You needed another safe place. It's alright." I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Did you respond to these letters?"

"Sometimes, to make it more believable. Usually on the computer." Benjamin's cheeks turned a deep shade of red. "I'm sorry, Papà. I really am."

My head was exploding with the information, thoughts. Especially on Salomé. I lied upon the bed, stared at the ceiling. "Cowboy?" I opened the covers for him, he crawled inside. "Can you please tell me about the bed wetting? The reason why you keep looking underneath the bed whenever you go to sleep?"

Benjamin swallowed, pressed his face against my shoulder. "I hear it. I hear it all the time. When I step down the first step of the stairs. I hear it. It stops with a little click and then a moment later, it starts vibrating. Loudly. Then it stops with a little click. And it vibrates again. It makes the little curtain move slowly. And then the rocking chair. That awful rocking chair. My hands will shake, my legs will tremble. I can't go to the toilet. It's too dark. I can't go back to bed. I freeze and before I know it the warmth trickles down my legs."

"What do you hear clicking, vibrating?" I held his face in my hands, tried to make eye contact.

"The thing that kept Mamma cool when she lay in the coffin." Benjamin choked on his sobs, pressing his flat palms against his face. "I hear it all the time. Especially in the night. I see the coffin standing in the corner of the room and the cooler clicks and vibrates. The curtain moves. I'm so scared, Papà. I'm so scared. I'm so scared." His body started shaking, his legs curled around mine. "It's so dark and I need to pee so bad and then darkness surrounds me and I see Mamma dead and hear the vibrating and the clicks and I can't go anywhere, I just stand there and pee because then I can change and go back to bed."

"Amore.." I wrapped my arms around him, kept him warm and safe. "Why didn't you just tell me that? I could have gone with you every time."

"Because it's not fair to Mamma. Mamma is so beautiful, I'm not afraid of Mamma I really am not. I'm not afraid of her. She was so pretty and warm and sweet. She wasn't cold and vibrating and dead."

"Do you feel guilty towards her?"

"Papà, sì." He nodded his head rapidly.

"Oh, sweet boy." I mumbled, stroking the fringe out of his face. "You don't have to feel guilty, ever. Please. Mamma would have understood. We would have never wished for you to see her like that.. not when you were so young. But it happened and you know what? It's so.. beyond us to see someone you love so dearly gone. Your beautiful Mamma just left her body, that's why it looked unnatural."

"Mamma was in heaven already."

"Exactly. Yes, it was Mamma, her body, but Mamma herself wasn't in that body anymore." I kissed the tip of his nose. "Won't you feel guilty anymore, Amore. It's so okay."

"Did you feel scared too, when you saw her?"

"Not scared, Amore. But it was very painful."

He brushed his tears and snot away with the blankets. I let him be. "Papà?"

"Cowboy."

"You know the story with God that He rose people back to life?"

I hummed.

"I thought that if He would raise them back to life, He would raise Mamma back to life for me too, because I asked Him so many times. But sometimes I thought He would have forgotten to tell me, so I went to look under the beds every time, because I thought maybe Mamma would be there and would hold me so I could fall asleep in her embrace."

I started crying along with him.

"It's okay, Papà. I know He listened to me, anyway. But I think He wanted Mamma and Eden to be with each other."

Oh, to still have a childlike faith.

After a long time of cuddling and tears, he sat up, reaching for my hand. "Will you read me a story before I go to sleep?"

•

What a chapter.. :) what are your thoughts on this one?

Do you think Zev is slowly realising things and letting things go? But what about the guilt he carries with him... what could it be?

Benjamin hurting himself because of everything? And his fear, anxiety?

Let me know in the comments :) much love!