Chapter Four

“WHO NEEDS a brain break?” Ben asked his class of fifth graders. He was gratified to see them pause and actually think about it. It was an extra step in the process—he could have just led the whole class through an exercise, or pulled out the kids he could see were struggling—but he was trying to encourage them along the path to self-regulation, and they needed to get better at realizing what they needed and when they needed it. “Let’s have the kids who need to rev down over by the flag, and the ones who need to rev up out in the hallway.”

As the kids started moving, he could see that they were making the right choices. The ones who needed to calm down a bit were heading for the flag, the ones who’d been dragging were on their way out the door, and the rest of the students were staying right where they’d been, still sorting through their math problems.

It had worked. He’d been picking away at it all year, and this was the most perfect exercise yet, and he should have been elated. Instead? “I’m going to join the flag team,” he told the class. “Michelle, can you lead us? And Adeel, you okay being in charge of the hallway crew? You ready to get them pumped up?”

True to character, Michelle looked unsure and Adeel totally confident. Which was fine, because Ben was there to back Michelle up if she needed it. Not that she would—she’d be great. Hell, maybe she’d be good enough to calm him down, to ease the incessant buzzing in his brain, a drone that seemed to focus around images of Liam, emotions related to Liam, speculation and concern and warnings, all related to fucking Liam—

Okay, anytime Ben even thought the word “fucking” in a fifth-grade classroom, he needed to chill out. He sank onto the floor, cross-legged, and tried to find the right expression of nonpressuring encouragement for Michelle. “What exercise do you think we should try?” he prompted her.

“Uh—” She looked almost wild for a moment, as if she was thinking about sprinting out of the classroom, but then took a deep breath and blurted out, “Colors? Breathing colors?”

Ben nodded, and before he could speak, another student said, “Sounds good.”

“We should breathe in blue,” Michelle said softly. “Nice, calm, gentle blue. And we’ll breathe out orange—being mad and wild all the time.”

And Ben followed the drill he’d taught to the children. He visualized the swirling, calm blue in the air before him and breathed it in, deep and full, then held it for a moment before exhaling and visualizing chaotic, angry orange being pushed away from him. Right into the face of poor, sweet Michelle, but the visualization exercises never paid a whole lot of attention to the laws of air currents.

“We’ll breathe in red,” she said, “but a nice, purple-y red. A strong color, but not a crazy one. And we’ll breathe out—that yellowy-green color that’s all confused and weird.”

Well, Ben wasn’t a hundred percent sure that was a visualization that would make sense to most of the students, but it absolutely worked for him. Breathe in strength, breathe out confusion. Hell, yeah, he was down for that.

He could hear the kids in the hallway playing whatever stupid pop song Adeel had selected, and he knew they were having a dance party; he’d known they would as soon as he’d named Adeel as leader. And that was fine. They were kids and Ben had deliberately requested a classroom right next to the gym, where his students could be noisy without disturbing anyone else. Let them dance, let them build up some energy before they came back in to refocus their attention on math.

“Can we do blue and orange again?” a student asked from beside Michelle. “I didn’t get rid of all my orange.”

“Okay,” Michelle agreed. “We’ll breathe in blue, and breathe out orange. Is everybody ready?”

Ben breathed along with the students, then stood up when they did and went out to the hall to make sure the dancers were under some level of control.

They were, and they returned to the classroom at least a bit more energized and ready to work.

He took a rare moment of peace to stand still and watch them all. Fifth grade was the end of the simple years; after this, hormones would start gushing and they’d all become irrational, unbearable creatures. But fifth grade? Fifth grade was the breath of cool air on the mountaintop before stepping off a cliff and tumbling ass over teakettle to the valley below.

And he’d been entrusted with guiding these precious creatures through the last sane year of their lives. Jesus, what had the principal been thinking?

Well, he’d do his best and try not to get distracted. He wouldn’t think about Liam, not here in this temple of learning. And not at home either, because fuck Liam! Fuck his perfect face and his deep eyes that somehow didn’t go red even when he was crying, fuck his soft words and every emotion he stirred up in Ben’s soul. Fuck, fuck, fuck… shit. Far too much internal swearing for a classroom.

He tried to breathe in some blue and breathe out some chartreuse, but there was too much activity in the classroom; he couldn’t settle into the depth of meditation he’d need to get rid of a disturbance like Liam. He settled for bundling the negative ideas up and stuffing them into an imaginary drawer of his desk. He wasn’t getting rid of them, just putting them away for the time being. He needed his full attention for the students, but he’d have to come back to the rest of it eventually.

The technique worked, more or less. Well enough to get him through the day and all the way home, but when he pulled into his driveway and saw Seth sitting there on the front porch, waiting for him, it all came rushing back.

“You’re here about Liam,” Ben said, forcing a smile as he walked up the path.

Seth nodded and pulled a beer out of the portable cooler by the side of his chair. “How’re you doing with it?”

Ben shrugged and took the beer. “I’m fine, I guess.” He settled into the wooden chair next to Seth’s and kicked his feet up to rest on the porch railing. There were some kids playing a version of baseball on the lawn across the street—very calming. “I mean, it’s not a big deal. I ran into some guy I used to know. That’s all.”

“I’ve been thinking about it all day—stewing about it—and if it’s hitting me like that, it must be five times worse for you. So, no, I don’t think he was just ‘some guy you used to know.’ Your first love—your only love, if we’re being at all honest, which we absolutely are—breaks your heart and runs away, then turns up out of the blue. That’s some crazy shit, Benny boy.”

“It was surprising,” Ben admitted cautiously. He pulled his feet back down from the railing. “But it’s over with. It was strange, but it’s done. I’m fine. It was good, really,” he started, but he lost his train of thought. He’d had a theory about why it was good, hadn’t he? “Or maybe not good. But everything’s fine.”

“Okay, you’re a genteel guy, well-educated and everything. So tell me… what’s the polite way for me to say that you’re full of shit?”

“Perhaps you could use nonverbal communication. A raised eyebrow, a sigh or snort, a head shake…. No, not all at once, you just look like you’re having a seizure. You’re like a big, red, epileptic Wookie.”

Seth stilled and they sat quietly for a while. Eventually Seth said, “Uncle Calvin’s worried about it all.”

“Oh, no, I don’t think that’s possible, because of course Uncle Calvin doesn’t know about this. How could he? Liam wouldn’t have told him, and I didn’t tell him, and of course you wouldn’t go blabbing all over town about my personal business. So, no, sorry, I don’t think Uncle Calvin has any idea about any of this.”

“I was worried about you.”

“Oh my God, Seth, what did you think I was going to do? What are you, and possibly Uncle Calvin, worried about, exactly? ‘Ben had a strange run-in with Liam and now I’m worried that Ben might….’ What? What dire act do you think I’ll engage in if you don’t do whatever it is you’re doing?”

“Well….” Seth took a swig of his beer. “There was the Kevin incident.”

“Kevin wasn’t an incident, he was—I don’t know. And none of that was actually about Kevin anyway.”

“I know. It was about Liam.”

“No, that’s not right. I was having a little early midlife crisis, and it just happened to coincide with some strange things in a relationship. That was all.”

“He loved you and you broke up with him. You broke up with him because he loved you. Because you were scared, because of Liam. And your parents, probably, but that’s therapy for another day. Today we’re talking about your issues related to Liam.”

“I don’t think we are. I think we’re talking about—Dinah. How’s she doing? Has the morning sickness stopped yet? And is Tamara still excited about being a big sister?” Seth just frowned at him, so Ben added, “No, you’re right. There are lots of people who are concerned about Dinah, and even Tamara. But sometimes the father gets forgotten in all this. I’m sorry if I’ve let that happen. So, tell me, Seth, how are you? It’s stressful, isn’t it? The expectations from society, from yourself, that you be the provider for the family, the protector. But you’re bringing a new life into a totally uncertain world. How can you be sure you’ll be able to rise to the challenge? Provide and protect for this precious new creature? And for Dinah, while she’s preoccupied with being pregnant and looking after the new baby. That’s a big job for you, right? Wow. Stressful.”

Seth held out for a moment, then spoke in a rush. “Okay, obviously I know what you’re doing, but yes, it is fucking stressful!”

“So stressful.”

“Babies cost a damn fortune! Not the stuff so much—we’ve got lots from Tamara still, and everybody shares everything around. But all the extras! Day care and medical stuff and Dinah taking time off work, and she wants a long maternity leave, and of course she should be able to do that, she deserves it and our kids deserve it, but she wants me around all the time too, so we can all bond, and I want to bond but I also want to pay the damn bills, and it’s kind of hard to do both, and whichever one I do less of you know there are people just lining up to judge me for it, to be disappointed in my choices. And then I get stressed about being too stressed, because this is supposed to be a joyful, happy time and I can’t even do that right, and Dinah’s always telling me to relax and enjoy but that’s easy for her to say, all she’s got to do is gestate, and I have to do everything else, and if she screws up—I mean, she’s not going to screw up gestating, the baby is totally healthy and she’s doing a great job—but if she did, everyone would feel sorry for her, but if I screw up, everyone’s ready to jump all the hell over me!”

“Well. That was actually a bit more than I was hoping for. I was thinking in terms of a little distraction from your invasive questions. And instead—damn. Seriously, Seth, you need to at least not worry about me. I am just fine. For all the rest of it…. Yikes. Are you guys actually having trouble with money?”

“Not yet. But Dinah’s a teacher. She’s going to want the kids to have a good education. So that’s college to pay for, and—”

“Wait. You’re honestly getting this worked up about college? No. No, no, no. Tamara isn’t even two yet, and the next one is negative three months old! That is too soon to be worried about college. If you expect me to take this panic attack seriously, I’m going to need some more concrete, immediate issues.”

“What if something goes wrong with the baby? What if it needs special care or something?”

“If that happens, we’ll deal with it. But you’re still not giving me anything concrete or immediate.”

“Well, I’m not sure I accept your criteria for things I should be allowed to panic about.”

“No, of course you can panic about anything you want. You just can’t expect me to take it seriously.”

“I’m panicking because there’s a new person on the way, a person I’m going to have to take care of, and I’m really not sure I’m ready for that. I’m—well, I’m still essentially a child myself. Aren’t I? I’m too young for all this responsibility.”

Ben leaned back in his chair and lifted his feet back up to the railing. “And how old are you, exactly? I know, we’re the same age, but—”

“Seventeen,” Seth said firmly. “I’m not sure about chronological age—I refuse to be limited by some arbitrary system of dates and measures. My mental age, though? Seventeen.”

“You are a horribly boring seventeen-year-old. When you were chronologically seventeen, if you’d looked at this current version of yourself, you’d have been very, very disappointed.”

“No Ferrari,” Seth agreed morosely.

“Minimal exposure to random hot chicks. I mean, Dinah’s lovely, but there’s only one of her.”

“Job’s not bad. I should be spending more time working on race cars, less time changing the oil on family SUVs, but… seventeen-year-old me wouldn’t hate my job.”

“Leisure time’s a bit lame,” Ben declared. “No clubbing, no wild adventures on ATVs or speedboats. Just hanging out with—well. With someone you hung out with when you were seventeen. So that’s got to be all right, surely.”

“Nah. When I was—when we were—seventeen, we didn’t expect you to stick around. Seventeen-year-old me would be pissed that you hadn’t gone off on your travel adventures.”

“I travel!” Ben protested.

“Going to the Czech Republic for a couple weeks four years ago does not count as having travel adventures. And neither does driving down to Florida every other Christmas.”

“I’m not sure I accept your criteria for what I can count toward my travel adventures.”

“When we were seventeen you were going to live abroad. You were going to teach in different countries or be a travel writer or—”

Ben didn’t want to play this game anymore. “You’re a good dad now, with one kid. You’ll be a good dad when you have two kids.”

But of course that shift was too sudden, and it combined with the unexpectedly kind words to let Seth know Ben wanted the topic changed immediately. But Seth couldn’t just let it go. “When we were seventeen,” he said slowly, “you were going to live in all different countries and so was Liam. He was going to be an architect and take on international projects, and you were going to travel with him and be versatile and make your career work around his.”

“And, freed of that restraint, I’ve been able to settle down like the routine-loving freak I am.”

“It’s not too late, you know.” Seth looked thoughtful. “Your pathological inability to commit to a long-term relationship has the useful side effect of you not being tied down. Might be time to grab hold of that silver lining and let the cloud—lift you up? Is that at all possible?”

“No. Clouds are collections of water vapor. They are not balloons. And they have no actual linings.”

“Pretty crappy metaphor, then, isn’t it?”

“To be fair,” Ben said, “I think you were stretching it much further than any metaphor deserves to be stretched.”

“A bit of stretching is good for things. Push them out of their comfort zone… no, crap, I can’t make that work either. I’m just not that great at metaphors.”

“Possibly no figurative language is needed. We could just say it straight out. You’re dissatisfied with how I’m living my life. My decisions don’t meet your expectations. You’d like me to be bolder, more adventurous.”

Seth nodded. “It’s kind of hard to live vicariously through you when you’re not doing anything interesting.”

“But it’s probably important that I live my life the way that’s best for me, rather than the way that’s best for you. Wouldn’t you say?”

“No, I wouldn’t go that far.”

They took a little break then, both of them finishing their beers, starting new ones, and watching as the baseball game across the street deteriorated into chaos and mild violence.

Finally Seth said, “If this is the life you chose, and the life you want, then I’m happy for you and I’ll do my best to shut up. But if it’s the life you just kind of fell into because you were afraid to make different decisions? That’s no good.”

“My life is the same today as it was the day before yesterday. So why am I getting the big speech now?”

“You know why.”

“Because of Liam. But… what about him? Had you actually forgotten he existed or something? You saw him and it just twigged for you? Like, ‘Oh, yeah, this guy used to be one of my best friends, and he and my other best friend used to be together, but they broke up. Huh. That puts a whole new spin on things.’ Was that what happened?”

“No.” Seth picked at the label on his beer bottle for a little, then said, “I miss him. Seeing him—I guess that’s what it reminded me of. It made me sad to think how close we all used to be. I mean, the two of us here is good. It’s fine. But it used to be the three of us.”

“The three of us used to hang out on this porch? Back when the Corrigans lived here? I don’t remember that.”

“You know what I mean. The three of us used to be friends.”

“You and I thought so, at least.” But Ben caught himself. “Or—fine, yeah, we were friends. He just didn’t—” Didn’t love me. Didn’t care enough to be faithful, or at least honest. He pushed himself to his feet. “Okay. This has been a fun little visit, but I’ve got dinner to make, marking to do, lessons to plan. And I think you might have some sort of responsibility elsewhere? Some sort of guilt-inducing, soul-crushing burden of love and pain that you need to get back to?”

Seth finished his beer. “Okay. Good talk. I feel like we really resolved a lot, here. We’ve got a positive action plan, moving forward with focus and determination. Excellent.”

“I’m focused and determined to make dinner, do some grading, and plan lessons.”

“Uncle Calvin’s going to want to talk to you.”

“Yeah, thanks for that. Sure is a good thing you didn’t keep your damn mouth shut.”

“He’s Uncle Calvin,” Seth said as if he actually thought it was a useful observation.

He left after that, setting off for the short walk to his own house two blocks away, and Ben went inside to his small, functional kitchen. Inside his small, functional house and his small, functional life. He had dreamed of a larger world, back when he’d been a kid. He’d craved adventure and excitement.

Now? He was making a chicken breast and brown rice for one, wondering whether he should get crazy and add half a can of mushroom soup to the pot. Ooh, a casserole.

And the biggest excitement in the last… year? More than that, probably. The biggest excitement since Tamara had been born was that his ex-boyfriend had made a brief appearance in town.

And cried.

Liam had cried.

What the hell had that been about? Ben had seen tears in the man’s eyes only once before, in their final confrontation. And now more tears?

Ben impatiently pushed himself away from the counter. He wasn’t going to fall into the trap. Hell no. He’d done his time, torn himself apart trying to figure out what was going on in Liam’s head, and he’d gotten nowhere. That was all in the past.

Liam was in the past. He’d popped in and popped out and now he was gone again.

It was a sign of something deeply wrong with Ben that he was actually feeling disappointed with that reality.