Chapter Four
“WHO NEEDSa 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 toself-regulation, and they needed to get betterat 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 thestudents 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 pumpedup?”
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 fuckingLiam—
Okay, anytime Ben eventhoughtthe 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 sprintingout 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, butnot 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 Adeelhad 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 classroomat 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 tothe 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 gored 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 forbundling 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 drivewayand 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 hisfeet 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 trainof 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 havinga 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.”
