4. Ben #2
“Hey there, kiddo!” I said, opening my arms as my son launched himself at me. I loved that he was still young enough to like such things, because I knew all too soon, he would be far too cool to be flinging himself at his old man. “How’s it going?”
“It’s going great. I was killing it at four-square before Mickey and Johnny had to go home.”
“That’s my boy.” I put him down and looked at Miss Fischbacher, who was regarding me with a kind expression. “Hi, I’m Ben,,” I said, offering her my hand.
When she took a couple of steps towards me, her scent hit me—pomegranate, orange, and something lightly floral—and I was quite shocked when I picked up that she was entirely human.
Huh.
So not a fairy. Even if I’d never met one of their kind, I knew the scent of a human as well as I knew the scent of a wolf shifter. She was just a regular, intensely beautiful woman.
Double huh.
“I’m Miss Fischbacher,” she answered, taking my offered hand and giving it a surprisingly firm shake considering how delicate her frame was. “Why don’t you have a seat at my desk?”
“Sure.”
“Benny, why don’t you load up one of the games we play during free time on the back computer for a few minutes?”
“Games? Okay!”
He hurried off to play, and the kind teacher suddenly looked a lot more serious.
Was this how kids felt when they were in trouble at school? I had to admit, it wasn’t the greatest sensation, and I was an adult.
“So, Mr. Poynter?—”
“Please, call me Ben.”
“Right, of course. Ben.” I liked the way my name sounded when she said it, but even thinking that made me recoil a bit at my own thoughts.
She was being professional and kind, all qualities one would want in a teacher.
I didn’t know what was going on in my head, but I was going to blame it on the fairy/not-a-fairy shock and move right along.
Still, maybe she had an ancient ancestor, because the similarities were uncanny.
“I asked you to come here today because I’m a little concerned about Benny.”
“You mentioned that.” Hmm, that came out a bit more terse than I meant it to. I guess after largely being a hermit for a little over a year, I didn’t have such a great handle on my tone anymore. Not that I’d had the gift of gab before… everything that had happened.
“Yes. Now I know this is a sensitive topic, but I wanted to make you aware that I am informed about the generalities of your situation. So, when your son mentioned that he’s been having persistent nightmares which are affecting his sleep, I wanted to touch base with you on some ideas I had to help.
“I know he’ll likely outgrow them as he continues to process the huge changes in his life recently, but it takes a village, right? I am here to support you any way I can, and I think a great way to do that is this program I’ve looked into.”
Wait.
Junior was having nightmares?
He’d had them right after I’d come home from… dealing with the perpetrators, but outside of the occasional incident, I thought he was done with those.
Had he been hiding it from me?
If he had, why? Did he not trust me? Was I not making a safe enough environment for him? Did he think I wouldn’t care, or listen to him?
Although Miss Fischbacher was still smiling at me with that pixie-enchanted grin and speaking softly, I couldn’t hear her over the maelstrom of static that had begun to play in my head.
I was failing my son. I wasn’t enough. I could never be enough. Everything I touched was poisoned. It should have been me, not her. Not my beloved. If I had been home and she had been on the trip, the world would be a better place.
It should have been me.
It should have been me!
Itshouldhavebeenmeitshouldhavebeenmeitshouldhavebeenmeitshouldhavebeenmeitsh—
“Ben, would you take a breath with me?”
Miss Fischbacher’s voice was still kind, but it was firmer now. The change was enough to yank me out of the cacophony between my ears, and I locked eyes with her.
I hadn’t noticed how hazel they were. Deep, chocolate brown at the center, honeyed in the middle, and rimmed with green. Almost like a fairy circle. They captivated me, and I did as she asked, drawing in a long, slow breath.
“Thank you, Ben. Now, let’s breathe out, shall we?”
I didn’t answer, but I followed her lead and exhaled slowly.
“Perfect. How about a couple more times?”
Once. Twice. Thrice. I followed her inhales and exhales like gospel, and it wasn’t until the fourth time that I fully realized what was going on.
Oh.
Panic attack. How fucking embarrassing.
Guilt and shame clambered up my throat, and my face flushed. God, I was a wreck. It was like all my fears of the past year were coming true in real time.
“Ben, if you’d like to discuss this at a different time?—”
“No, no ,” I said firmly. I may have been a failure of an alpha, but I was going to get through a parent-teacher conference. It was the least I could do for my son. “You mentioned a program?”
She smiled so sweetly at me, I got why Benny only ever had positive things to say about school.
I’d heard horror stories about teachers making students miserable, but it was clear that Miss Fischbacher was not a part of that issue.
“Yes, I did. It’s an after-school program that several kids from all over the district attend once a week. ”
“What do they do there?”
“Well, it’s an arts-based therapy program with several registered therapists. The students take buses in from their respective schools and participate in various creative activities from painting, to sewing, to improv. I actually have one of their pamphlets.”
She pulled open a desk drawer and handed me a shiny leaflet. I was so used to things being digital, that it made me appreciate having something tangible in my hands. Was it weird to miss the days of pen and paper? Because I did.
“Thanks,” I said, my voice sounding like gravel. “I’ll look it over.”
“If you have any questions, you have my number, and I’ll text you my email.”
“Yeah, okay,” I said, folding up the pamphlet and tucking it in my pocket. I was pretty sure most parents would forget about it, but I planned to read every single word that night. If my son was having trouble, I would help him any way I could. Even if it was a strange therapy program with crafts.
“Thank you for your time. Like I said, I appreciate you making time for this so quickly. We’re a team here, and I’m dedicated to helping Benny however he needs.”
“Of course. I can tell you care about the class.”
“I do, I really do. Now, how about we get Benny off the computer and have him join the conversation?”
“No,” I said, swallowing thickly. “I think it would be best if I had time to… to digest.”
“Oh, yes, of course. Whatever you need. Here, let me escort the two of you out.”
“No, we’ll be fine,” I said with a quick shake of my head. “You have a good evening, Miss Fischbacher.”
“You too.”
I got up and collected my son. My head was spinning, but I had a much better handle on myself as Junior and I headed to my car. But even though I was pretty sure I was playing it cool, I had so much to think about once I was home.