The days by his side Read online

  I waited anxiously for the second lesson to ring. I still had the hope that he would come for it, but he did not show up. The place where his chair would be was empty. I began to worry about how this sudden lack of Benjamin was affecting me.

  The rest of the week was slowly dragging on. It was as if my world was in slow motion. Each day I listened to some songs, choosing those that had easy pronunciation, and which I could sing on my own. My English pronunciation was not perfect, but I spoke the language well. In the rare spare hours my mother had, she used to spend teaching me how to speak English.

  This was one of the rare “mother and daughter” moments that we had. Nowadays, we still do that, but the scolding is much bigger if I pronounce the wrong word. For my mother, everything must be said correctly.

  By the weekend, Carla came home for our Saturday at the mall. We did not go there for shopping, but just for a walk. We were not partygoers but the ones who would rather spend two hours watching a movie. I enjoyed a good horror movie and Carla a good romance. Since it was not usually that we had a horror movie playing, I was used to spending several Saturdays watching romantic movies.

  Worst of all was seeing Carla crying over every sad scene in the movie. I always laughed at the situation, which made her upset and in a bad mood for my lacking sensitivity, although I always told her that it was not lack of sensitivity, but that I had common sense.

  On Sunday, I spent at home with my mother, not with her exactly, as she spent most of the time locked in her mini office correcting exams.

  Monday arrived faster than expected, and to my surprise, Ben decided to appear. He seemed more broken up than the last time I saw him. His beard was unshaven, and his black rebellious hair indicated that he was not too concerned with appearance.

  Once again I had forgotten that I had an English lesson. The doubles were not formed. The rehearsal to sing the song was to be done outside the classroom. That was a relief for me. I did not feel like sitting next to Ben and being ignored by him all through class.

  When the exit sign rang, Ben threw a piece of paper on my desk. He was quick enough to do that act and get out of the room before any student since his chair was in a position where it would prevent the exit. I fixed my glasses, opened the paper and was surprised by what was written on it:

  In my house. 4:30 pm.

  1st day

  “B

  en settled with me to go to his house today. I mean, he did not invite me personally, but left this note,” I said to a completely distracted Carla. “Are you listening to me?”

  “Yes! Hand me the note,” I did what she asked. I stretched my arm so that she could reach the note of the couch where she was sitting. I ended up falling to the floor, making Carla laugh. She came out of the sofa and joined me on the floor. “At my house. 4:30 pm. That's it? But where's the address?” She said, after reading the note.

  “Ben is not stupid. He must imagine that I know where his house is.”

  “For sure he wonders. He just lives a block above your house. For sure, Ben must have noticed one of the thousand times you forced me to pass along with you in front of his house to see some sign of him there. Ben must have thought you were a psychopath.

  “Carla!” I threw the pillow at her. “Will you come with me?”

  “What am I going to do there?”

  “Give me moral support!”

  “No way. I have nothing to do there. I’m not even in the same class as you.”

  “But you’re in the same year. And the work is the same.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Ii our class, your mother played the theater. She outdid herself this time,” Carla said, pushing a lock of her blonde hair away from her face.

  Carla did not want to come with me to Benjamin’s house but accompanied me to the gate of his house. Which has already helped me enough. I do not know if I could have gotten out of the house if she had not made me.

  Ben's house was only a block from mine. It was close, but far enough so I had no contact with him. Carla said goodbye even before I hit the intercom.

  “Good luck, friend!” she said, waving.

  “Traitor,” I whispered to her.

  Carla lives in another neighborhood, so she always depends on buses to come to mine. An extra expense that she makes a point of keeping so that our friendship never fades away.

  The afternoon breeze stirs up a few strands of my ponytail as I stand in front of Ben's house, I have been here for ten minutes, taking courage to press the intercom. It is already 4:40 pm, which meant I was a little late.

  I press the intercom at least three times until it was answered, a sweet yet tired voice answers me on the other side:

  “Who is it?”

  “This is Gabrielle, I have a school assignment with Ben .... Oh! With Benjamin,” I answered uncomfortably. Where had I gotten so close to calling Benjamin Ben?

  The woman on the other side opened the gate, giving way to me. The yellow two-story house behind the gate grids gave me a better view of how beautiful it was. There was a garden around the house, the grass was well-trimmed, and in place of the stairs there was a small ramp that led to the house entrance; it seemed to have been adapted to Ben's current situation.

  I walked slowly to the entrance of the house. Ben's mother opened the door for me. How did I know she was his mother?

  Her presence at school was constant because of everything Ben was up to. There was no way not to notice her in the school halls, talking to her son. Like Ben, she also seemed devastated. She was thinner and her hair was a few gray hairs. It seemed that she did not care what color her hair was anymore.

  She greeted me with an embarrassed smile and invited me in. A heavy rock sound was echoing throughout the house. The windows were shaking with a powerful sound. I barely heard her speak.

  “I'm sorry for all this noise, it's Ben,” She said. “I'll let him know that you have arrived. Please sit down,” She pointed to the beautiful red recliner coach and retractable seat.

  Politely, I did what she asked. The couch was soft and comfortable. I stayed there for a while enjoying the beauty of the place. In fact, for a long time, until silence reigned. The stereo seemed to be turned off abruptly. Ben's mother returned with her face even sadder.

  “You can go to him now. Just go through the kitchen, then you will see a closed door, just enter.”

  I found it odd that Ben did not have the room upstairs. Maybe the reason is the ladder. A huge stairway with marble steps gave access to the upper floor.

  I adjusted the strap of my backpack on my shoulder and walked to Ben's room. I walked down the hall and when I reached his bedroom door, I saw a small upside-down wooden sign hanging on a nail. It seemed that it was on purpose, piquing the curiosity of those who approached. And out of pure curiosity, I turned to the board to read whatever was written on it: Here lies Benjamin Oliveira. 10/21/1997 until 12/31/2014. Now let me rest in peace. Do not disturb me.

  All those words seemed to have been handwritten, and by the hand of whom, I could already imagine. I imagined a lonely, depressed Ben sitting in his wheelchair writing all those words, a chill ran down my spine. My hands went cold suddenly, but I refused to let him in that loneliness. I grabbed the door handle, turned and opened it.

  Then I saw him. Ben was with his back to the window, his elbow resting on it.

  “Hi!” I said, trying to get his attention since it looks like he did not care about the creak of the door opening. I heard him snorting. “I came because of the assignment. You appointed,” I tried to make him remember. Which did not make much sense since I was here at his invitation.

  “Ok! Let's get over it,” Ben said, finally turning the chair over to me.

  He moved the chair to a red desk. Ben took a flash drive from it and threw me. I had no idea he was going to do that, and it did not give my brain enough time to do the quick-thinking function and get the flash drive. Ben played so hard, it almost hit me. The flash drive grazed my face, striking the
wall.

  “It was just to get it,” He said dryly. “Then, I'm invalid.”

  “What?” I said, shocked by what I had just heard. “What is your problem?”

  “When was the last time you changed the grade of your glasses? Haven't you seen it yet?” He pointed to his legs.

  “I wasn't talking about that. You almost hit me.”

  “Yeah, but I think I missed the shot,” I was amazed. Did he really mean it? Or did he have a side to dark humor.

  “Did you want to hit me?” Ben winked at me. Damned! I could not help turning red. For a brief moment of fury, I had forgotten how handsome Ben was, and he reminded me of it in seconds. I swallowed hard and decided to forget about this little purposeful "accident" he wanted to cause me and got straight to the point that mattered. “Have you picked any music yet? I already have some,” I took the flash drive from the pocket of my jeans. “We can listen to the music each of us chose. Then we could, in a democratic way, choose one in which the two of us could sing in a comfortable way.”

  “Are you serious that you're really interested in doing this crap job?”

  “I need this grade.”

  “You are the daughter of the English teacher; I doubt very much that you need this grade,” Ben knew that teacher Elizabeth was my mother. Not that it was news to everyone, but I thought Ben had never noticed me before, except to make fun of me once, along with one of his asshole friends. And that meant that something Ben had noticed about me. Nothing special, but it was enough for me to think that I was not that invisible.

  “My mother gets heavier with me just because I'm her daughter. I need to start rehearsing soon.”

  “And you sing?”

  “No.”

  “So how do you intend to get a good grade?”

  “My mother will evaluate the pronunciation, not if I'm good enough to sing.”

  “Then you can start singing.”

  “What?”

  “I want to evaluate your pronunciation.”

  “I won't sing for you,” I crossed my arms.

  “So, what did you come here for?”

  That was the right question to ask. To complete this work, I would have to sing. And one of the people who would be in the audience would be Benjamin.

  “One step at a time. First, we choose the song and then we start singing.”

  “All right! My songs first. Grab my pen drive,” I did what he asked me for, even though he not use the please. The truth was, I did not want to see Benjamin fall off his chair trying to get the flash drive on the floor.

  He asked me to put the flash drive into the USB port of the stereo. Once again, I did what he asked.

  “Just hit play.”

  I bent down to press play as the stereo was leveled with Ben's chair. As soon as I hit play, a horrible sound came out of the device almost exploding my eardrums. Ben had purposely left the sound on in, what I can say the last volume. The "song" had offensive and obscene words, nothing rhymed with anything; I do not know if I could really call it music. Ben laughed at my expense as I searched for the off button, I was too nervous to see it. So, I solved my problem in another way by removing the flash drive from the device. I definitely was not interested in doing the job with Ben anymore. His only goal here was to piss me off.

  “Not funny,” I said, frowning. I closed my fist showing my irritation.

  “I think I got the wrong flash drive,” Ben said as a mischievous glow overflowed his gaze. “It must be in the first drawer. There!” He pointed to the hazel dresser.

  I went to the place he indicated. I opened the drawer and almost felt back when I saw a bleeding hand inside. I touched that thing unintentionally, the blood had stuck to my hand, causing me to panic. It was all so unreal that before I started a hysterical shouting, I noticed that it was just a stupid joke from Ben.

  He burst into laughter. I was the clown of the day. Not that I was not used to people laughing at me, but there it was just the two of us. And it was Benjamin who was laughing at me. I felt like a complete idiot. I just wanted to get out of there as fast as I could and so I did.

  I let Benjamin choke on his laughter and quickly withdraw from his room. I was already in the kitchen when his mother stopped me.

  “What happened? I heard screams,” She asked, looking really worried. I did not want to answer, my mind was a mess. “It was Ben. I will talk to him there. Wait for me here.”

  Ben's mother headed for the bedroom, and of course, I did not wait for her. I found where the intercom was, pressed the button, thus opening the gate. I ran to it like I was a fugitive. I gained my freedom and called Carla straightly.

  “Are you really upset about what he did, or because you found out that your former prince charming is an idiot? Or rather an ogre. Or maybe even Shrek in person. Has he burped in front of you?” Carla said with a laugh as if everything had really been funny.

  “Carla!”

  “And where are you now?”

  “On my way home.”

  “What did he do when you left?”

  “Nothing, he did nothing. I think that was his intention. That I leave.”

  The first thing I did when I got home was to take a shower. I managed to remove the red stick that had stuck to my hand. It was some mixture prepared by Benjamin to give the impression that it was blood.

  In my thoughts, I have imagined Ben in many ways, but this one never crossed my mind. I have already made up thousands of conversations between Ben and me, but I could never imagine that the real conversation would be like this. I waited so long for a moment alone with him, just did not expect it to be so disappointing.

  In my thoughts he was kind, and now I was surprised by the opposite.

  Who are you for real, Benjamin?

  And now what I deeply desired for tomorrow is that Ben does not show up at school...

  2nd Day

  T oday my mother woke up hysterical, slept late last night after correcting some tests, forgot to turn on the alarm, thus being late, which made her visibly moody (moodier). I heard her mutter something in her bedroom, something I could not understand. I could never understand what she said when she was like this.

  I woke up a little lazy. I pulled my legs out from under the warm blanket, my bare feet felt them crash against the icy white tile floor, I shivered a bit. The night was cold, and today the day was cloudy.

  After taking a quick shower, I put on my school uniform, ran toward the kitchen to prepare coffee, a function that my mother followed to the letter, except today, since she lost her time, so she asked me to do it.

  She grunted at the amount of sugar I put in the coffee, I always got it wrong, so she always made the coffee. With my backpack on my back, I grabbed a loaf of bread from the basket and headed out, spilling some coffee on the floor. I left the glass with the rest left on the old wooden table, which was on the small balcony that leads to the entrance of the room. I turned the key in the lock and tucked it in the pocket of my jeans. I swallowed the last loaf of bread and hurried out with my mother.

  I felt bad for the class she was taking today. I hope they do not contradict you, because of the state of nerves Mom is in, it is best not to risk doing or trying to do something funny, unless you want to take the risk of reading a text out loud, and will only be released from punishment when you pronounce each word correctly. My mother is considered one of the best English teachers in the state, but her difficult temper leaves something to be desired.

  I slide into the front passenger seat while Mom hits the rearview mirror. She yells at me to put on the belt. I always forget it. With narrowed eyes, I watch her serious, frowning expression. Thick lips curved downward; her sloppy eyebrows arched. She straightened her brown hair in the rearview mirror, her charcoal-black eyes now turned to the driveway.

  “Why didn't you wake me up?” She asked me for the thousandth time as we waited in the chaotic traffic of the city. For twenty minutes, we were waiting for the traffic to be cleared, making my mother's ba
d mood increase. But after all, who was in a good mood waiting for the traffic to be cleared?

  “You always wake up first, I thought you were already awake,” I could not take this question anymore, but I could not risk saying it out sound and clear. I crossed my arms and sank into the seat, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.

  Late was a word that did not belong to her vocabulary. That, to my mother, was a total lack of respect and commitment. As for me, I did not care at all about finding today the school gates closed, but as I would be accompanied by Mrs. Elizabeth, that possibility could not happen.

  I arrived on time for the second period, although it had started exactly fifteen minutes ago. Lucky for me, it was a math class. To put it better, teacher Carlos' class. I think he has a little crush on my mom. Lucky to finally use this fact to my advantage.

  Teacher Carlos has always found a way to approach my desk and ask some questions about my mother. Discreet questions, in fact, but ones which let a little interest spillover. What I wonder is why was he attracted to her. My mother is not an ugly woman, but this is by far the most important thing to me.

  Carlos is the opposite of my mother. Patience is a word that defines him well, but sometimes it makes students taking advantage of it. I have never seen Mr. Carlos shout in class since my mother does it very often.

  I knock lightly on the door; it does not take long for Mr. Carlos to open it. Today, I would be the one to take advantage of his patience.

  “I´m sorry, traffic was in chaos, and my mother and I ended up being late,” I hurried to defend myself, made the word mother stand out, and of course hiding the fact that she turned off the alarm. One of my mother’s downsides is that she does not get along very well with technology. Somehow she turned off her cell phone alarm.

  “Ok!” He said, opening his arm and giving me the way to coming in. I took a long breath for everything had gone well. Certainly, a better teacher than Mr. Carlos has not yet appeared in this school.

  I fixed my glasses and went to the usual place. I had not noticed when I arrived, for my euphoria, but he was there with all his grace.