ringing

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Ben puts her at ease instantly, and this too transports her back to high school. She had known that Mila was his girlfriend and so had never once bad mouthed the girl to him, but he would get to Poetry Club early and stay late, never confronting the issue but doing so much to make her feel seen and heard when she was so often invisible. She wanted to sit Noah down and explain how lucky he was to have such an empathetic father, how much his parents had given up to have him. But it wasn't her place, so she only nodded. "I hope you don't find this patronizing, but you've done such an amazing job, you two. I can't imagine changing diapers when most people were going to prom." She herself did not go to prom, but she felt the point stood regardless. "Let's have him do some research," she said with another smile. "Listen, we'll work this out. For as long as you don't give up on him, I won't either." She laughs lightly at his comment, and it encourages her to be more forward than she needs to be. "I don't want to overstep here, but I think it would be best if you and I can deal with each other as much as possible. If Mila wants to get involved, maybe we could loop Adam - Mr. Haynes - in, let them communicate." She's not sure how to justify this, other than she doesn't want to fight her high school bully over another potential high school bully, who happens to be her son. "I think they have more similar communication styles."

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When Ben was a kid he'd found himself popular by accident. Not that anyone intentionally set out to be popular, but he felt wearing the crown a bit awkward and unnatural. He just wanted to take photos and make bad art, he was just a nice person in the process of doing what he best liked. Being chill, he guessed, had sort of landed him in the lap of popularity and also by default, the lap of Mila. He smiles when she compliments him on his lost youth, "we both had really supportive parents. We were lucky." Seeing how brutal his son was turning out it felt wrong to accept compliments for him. The raising of a child who set out to make his teachers' lives miserable at any opportunity, he couldn't find the amusement in it. "Yeah, Mila would be picking him up in the evening," he notes. She got off at five, it made more sense for her to do this small bit of parenting. "A fair warning, she won't like the idea of Poetry or Chemistry club," Mila was going to have a fit when Noah came home and mentioned this, "you both should probably expect emails."

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As Ben speaks, her stomach ties itself up in knots. Though she had never once been the kind of girl who would upset a teacher, there had always seemed to be this huge gulf of authority between student and faculty. Now that she was the latter, she realized how flimsy that difference was, particularly when a parent was not on your side. Essentially, teachers were powerless, up until a certain point. But Noah had passed that point. "I understand that. I would appreciate it if you could impress upon her that it was this or potential expulsion, and in all honesty, expulsion might have been easier for us," she said, silently praying he wouldn't bring her name into it.  She hated herself, but she knew she would crawl back to the comfort of Adam's moral absolutism when that email came in. She was so desperate to do right by every student and by extension their parents, that every harsh word hit her hard. Adam was more of a realist. She sat back, taking a deep breath, trying to stop feeling so intimidated by the mere idea of Mila Fox. "It's so hard, you know. Teachers tell you this when you're young and you don't believe them, but you just want to do right by these kids, even when they're fighting you every step of the way." She hears herself and laughs, shaking her head. "I'm sure you know what I mean better than most."

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Ben was easy-going with a good heart and often Mila peeled open that heart like an unripe pomegranate, daring his sweetness to turn sour. And it often it did. His good heart was made bitter and he was a harder man than his gentle teenage self. Not all of it was Mila, part of it was growth of character impacted by the real world. But still, as he watches Grace hesitate each time she speaks of his wife, he feels a sense of understanding. "I think the most empathetic teachers are the most impactful," he encourages with a smile, "he's a tough kid, but there's moments." Noah just liked to get a rise out of people. Everytime he made someone lose their shit, he got a massive serotonin boost. He was the kid who laughed hysterically when his parents stubbed their toe. "Maybe he'll 'Captain, Oh My Captain' you," he nods, "he'll really love you by the end of term."

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His empathy provides a dangerous temptation. She immediately wants to tell him every gruesome detail about how his son made her feel, about how she worried every time that she left her classroom that she would bump into him or his friends, how the couple of hours a week she spent in their company loomed over her like a court date. As much as she rooted for Noah and tried to make him see the best in himself, she was also afraid of him, afraid of how exposed he was capable of making her feel. But she knew better than to be too honest about a child to their parent, even when that parent was an old friend. "I don't mind if he hates me." Lie. "I would just rather he keep at it. If we get him through the next couple years and he graduates with the grades he's already getting, I have every confidence he'll look back on this and regret how he behaved. Let's just focus on getting him to that point." She wants desperately to stay talking to him, to pry and to hear every detail of his life. But she remembers why they are there. "Thank you so much for coming in. As I say, we wouldn't ask you to for nothing."

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He repositions himself and leans back into the small chair. "The thing about Noah is," he folds his arms, "he's an instigator. He's in it for the reaction, it's like his high. Just don't react." Easier said than done. His own skin was tough and Noah managed to get under it. He had a talented for being an asshole. "It's difficult now because he clearly has it out of you. But seriously just figure out something in your head that brings you back to centre. Meditate." Ben loops his mask over one ear, "I think Mila is under his contact. I'll get my number on that list as well."

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She mulls over what he's said. It's not anything she hasn't considered for herself, and there are so many little things she had let go, thinking that to react would be to give him what he wants. But she also knows that now he will always have the implicit threat of Mila, and she will have to fight tooth and nail to 1. resist her innate fear of the woman, and 2. stop reflecting the sins of his mother against her son, who truly did not even know about their shared history. Eventually she smiles at Ben, replacing her mask and hoping it reaches her eyes. "All I want is for Noah to graduate," she says, meaning that on many levels. "Knowing you're his dad, I feel confident that's achievable."

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He fixes the mask on over the lower half of his face, "he'll graduate." It's wishful thinking that his son will correct himself, but maybe the stability of after school programs will help redirect him. Ben pushes himself up off the chair and his hand pushes his overgrown Covid hair out of his eyes. "This club thing will help. Thanks for looking out for him," he was too prepared to walk out of here with Noah being suspended. "It really really nice to see you too. I'm glad you're keeping well."

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She nods, wordlessly agreeing with him. She was glad that he had a stable force at home, though she knew from now on it was going to be hard work to look at him and not see Mila. "Oh, Ben, here," she said, opening a drawer and fishing around, pulling out a copy of Burning in Water, Drowning In Flame. She quickly stuck a post-it onto the cover, scribbling out her cell number and work email address in her signature dark pink ink. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to be familiar or professional, veering between the two. She held the book out to him. "Here, for Noah, for Poetry Club on Tuesday. We're talking about Bukoswski. And those are my contact details, for you." She couldn't help but blush slightly behind the mask. "If you want to talk about Noah. Or anything. It's been really nice seeing you, I'd like to catch up properly sometime. Maybe with Mila?"

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He pauses and watches as she scribbles on a post-it in her pink pen. She made an easy target for Noah. Sweet, obviously vulnerable and wrote with a pink pen. Noah was having a field day. His eyes crinkle as he smiles, "good book." He remarks. When they were in high school it was To Kill a Mockingbird, now they were reading Bukowski. His grades would have been way better in 2021. "I'll give you a text. We'll have coffee."

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"My choice, so of course it's good," she said with a grin, though his approval feels as warm as the sunshine that's still pouring through the windows. Poetry Club had been her solace in school and it was again now, somewhere she tried to open minds and let students express their views in comfort. "I'd like that," she says, and she would. It's an immense relief that he doesn't make mention of inviting Mila along. "Thanks again for coming in. I'll let you know how he's getting along in a couple of weeks."