When the morning comes

3 | two lying sons

"Papà, papà." Benjamin's frightened voice woke me from my slumber, making me sit up in an instant. "Papà, I need to pee, but.. can you come, I don't want to go downstairs alone." His face was teary, he reached for my hand.

Holding it in mine, I tried to wipe the sleepiness out of my face. "Why not?"

"Please, dad. I'm almost doing it in my underwear." Tears cascaded down his cheeks, he seemed to be upset, but I couldn't quite understand why. "Hurry up."

Slipping out of bed, I took his hand in mine and led him downstairs, where he gazed at the chair, then at the other side of the living room with wide eyes, before he locked himself up in the toilet. "Papà, why do butterflies have to be caterpillars first?"

"I don't know, Benji." I answered, the haze of sleep still washed over me. I knew he was asking random questions to make sure I was still there, so the answer probably didn't matter to him as much as it did to me right at this moment.

His hand reached for mine right after he had come out of the bathroom and he made sure I was right behind him as we walked up the stairs. When entering my room, he let himself fall onto his knees, peeked underneath the bed and let out a deep breath, even when the tears continued to fall.

"Why are you crying?" I asked, tenderly holding his chin between my fingers.

He shook his head, squeezed his eyes closed. "Tired. Can't sleep."

Every father can tell when their child is lying. Benji always blinked his eyes a little faster, his eyes flickering to a different place on the face he would be looking at. "What were you afraid of?"

"I'm just so tired and I want to sleep, I'm frustrated. I want to do my best at school but if I'm moody, I'll fall out to everyone." He made eye contact, he never did that while he would be lying. I felt confused, wondering if it was a new tactic of his, or if he truly felt that way. Being tired myself and with the back of my mind telling me that I needed to work tomorrow too, I let it be.

"Sleep, amore." I whispered, tucking him in. Benji scrunched up his nose as he wiped his face, staring up at the ceiling.

"Do you think cowboys can be afraid?"

"Everyone is afraid of something."

"You too, Papà?"

"Yes."

"What are you afraid of?"

I didn't answer. But the words lingered in my mind. Losing you too.

And it wasn't only meant in a physical way.

"You have to try the cappuccino from our new coffee maker." Daniel suggested, motioning for me to come behind the counter. Pushing myself through a small, wooden door that separated the clients from the café and area where the workers prepared their food and drinks, I followed him to the enormous coffee machine.

The aroma's of different types of coffee beans filled my nose, making me crave the drink more. "Smells good, man." I mumbled out, watching him as he prepared the coffee. There were too many steps to follow and it took quite some time, but after five minutes, I had a damping, fresh cappuccino in my hands.

"Costs an arm and a leg, but it's worth it, isn't it?" He wondered, gaze on me as I took a sip from the warm drink.

"Definitely worth it." I agreed, sighing in satisfaction as the taste of the lightly strong coffee filled my mouth. "You gotta work on your latte art, though." The heart shape had faded into something that had more away of a deformed dromedary.

Daniel laughed, nudged my shoulder, which made the coffee slosh over the edges. It fell onto my skin, burning me, but as I sucked my skin, the burning pain faded soon after. "You were the master of it. Such a shame that you became a nerd by studying English Literature." Frowning at his action, he pressed a cold, humid dishcloth onto my skin. "Sorry 'bout that."