When the morning comes

21 | Davu

With my fingers reaching for the sandwich in my lunchbox, I realised it had been the first food I had touched that day. In the haste of the morning, and, admittedly, the protesting of my stomach, I had ignored breakfast and stepped inside my car the moment I waved Benjamin off to school. I stared at how the coffee machine poured a cappuccino in the mug Benji had gotten me for father's day two years ago. He had painted words on it himself. Words that said; Papà, well done, I'm awesome.

The moment it was ready, I took it away from the machine and made my way to the roof of the building, where a small rooftop terrace had been made for staff. I greeted two teachers and sat in the corner, staring down at the town we lived in. My sandwich stayed untouched for minutes long, until a sparrow landed onto the wooden table my elbows were resting on.

I threw a piece of bread in its direction. He took it gratefully, and flew off. I thought of the spaghetti bird. My smile faded, I reluctantly took a bite out of my sandwich, memories erupting in my mind.

"Zev."

I looked up, Teddy blocked the sun that shone onto my face. "Unc."

He sat down across me and opened his own lunchbox, staring down at the cars that drove by. He prayed for his lunch and the moment he opened his eyes, they landed on me. "You were pretty unavailable this weekend. How have you been?"

I shrugged.

"Busy phone?" He gave me a sympathetic smile.

"I threw it away."

He hummed. Ate silently for a moment.

"They don't understand." A deep breath escaped from my lips, and I could feel how my tiredness allowed my emotions to come up almost fully. My eyes watered. "The feeling isn't stronger on those days, you know?"

"You don't specifically miss her birthday, which is once a year. You miss the every day moments." He commented, looking up at me in a, somewhat, concerned but understanding expression.

"And they always fill everything in. Oh, you must miss her a little extra today because it's her birthday. Oh, you must miss her so much now on your wedding anniversary day." I dropped my head onto the wooden table, squeezed my eyes closed. "No, that's not how it works. It's not on those days that I miss her the 'most'."

I stared at my sandwiches. "Waking up together, eating breakfast together, spending time together, bringing Benjamin to bed together, cooking together, drinking wine together, cuddling together, stepping inside our bed together." I closed my lunchbox. I felt nauseous. "That's when I miss her the most."

"I understand it, son." His voice was soft. It remained silent. I didn't know what to say, because a few more words and I'd burst out. Something I did not quite feel like. "How'd Benjamin manage?"

"Barely. He was full of anger." I mumbled out. "On our anniversary day Benjamin barely spoke a word and if he did, it would be spit out in rudeness."

"He misses his Mamma." Teddy briefly touched my hand, searched for eye contact. I wouldn't give it to him. Topic was closed. Simple as that was. Teddy knew me, therefore he didn't say a word about it anymore.

Remembering what he said about the phone, I fished it out of my pocket. "You needed me this weekend?"

Teddy swallowed his mouthful and pointed to nothing in specific over his shoulder. "Salomé. She had been wondering if you still wanted to talk to Gloria's father."

"Do you think we should?" I doubted everything at this point. "He made a mistake, he has to pay for it. Simple, right?"

Teddy observed my face for a while. I used to be a fighter, but giving up had been a lot easier the last couple of months. He knew it. "You can always try, but if you don't feel like getting involved in that all, you shouldn't do it." He looked concerned. "You've got enough on your plate."