Meant to be half

~9. His death anniversary.~

TW: sh, suicidal thoughts

A trip to the local museum was planned for today. Wilfred would pick us up any moment and bring us to the town of our desire. A museum for art. In my research I found they newly added a corner for modern art. Although the paintings of the renaissance were more of my interest. They had something about them which radiated a certain lightness, although half of the paintings weren't considered soft. A feminine touch. Anyway: art is the art of interpretation.

The kids seemed quite fine with the trip. Nevertheless their opinions wouldn't have changed my plans. A museum is a must on a class trip. We've all been through it. A lot of historical stuff has been told to every child in school, when on a class trip.

Did he like art? That question stuck to me until the honking of a vehicle kicked me right out of that state of mind. Shaking my head, my view cleared up and our lovely driver parked in front of us.

A polite smile formed on his face. A bunch of wrinkles added to his remaining ones. I turned around to sort the kids inside, when my eyes briefly caught Cate and Amber walking outside the building. Together. The way Cate let her gaze flow through the crowd of kids, seemed as if everything was regular and I proceeded with my intentions.

As I had expected all my students had entered, so I did it them same. Everyone had taken a seat. I targeted the one I had before, when I caught the dry ends of Amber's ginger hair in my seat. Cate sat next to her.

The way the woman had told me it was my seat on our way here, lingered in my ears.

I must have stood and stared for a moment, because the way Wilfred repeated himself sounded like it wasn't the third time he'd said it. "Dear, sit down."

My head turned and he gestured towards the seat almost next to his. It was the one closest to our driver. With a forced smile I took a seat and we took off.

The chattering behind me didn't seem to quiet down, even though my headache and racing thoughts made all of this harder.

Did he like art? I thought. Why did I not remember any about it? It felt pretty wrong to just assume because of me not remembering it, there was no connection to Cayden and art. Because something within me told me there was a little something. A link, which I couldn't seem to find at the moment.

The arrival went smoothly. Wilfred let us out almost in front of the museum.

"I'll see you later, my favorite guests." He chuckled deeply and closed the door.

There the old man left us behind. The kids were all talking over one another and I was having a harder time to get their attention. Admitting, I had not gathered enough strength and energy to raise my voice, so it took solid five minutes to have the main part listen to what I had to say.

"Four hours?!" Daniel whined.

"I am convinced Amber prepared a great tour so no whining." Not even a hint of bias or something sarcastic lingered in my tone.

The redhead's hysterical laugh tortured my hearing, making me turn my head slightly. "Yes! We'll start off..." There my attention had gone away.

The only part I participated in was walking along with my students up the staircase, which apparently had some historical background, as everything here. Why did I have to agree to this... it was exhausting to be a responsible adult. I couldn't just leave this place, or more the people behind to get some peace. No chance in that.

And so on the hours passed.

One hour and we had seen the modern art wing already. Most of the kids seemed actually interested in the sculptures and paintings. Perhaps I should consider creating something like these with them in class. Harper would love to be completely free in her way of creativity. The same goes for the great part of the class.