Dad's poet society

“I wish I had never put myself in such an awkward position!” he muses desperately. “If I only had given him some instructions. Just a few tips. Like you help someone to make a grocery list. Like you explain to someone how a new mobile phone works. Then nothing would have happened. Life would have moved on as normal.”

It is just before midnight. The whole family is already in bed. Full of anticipation for tomorrow's big day. He walks to the kitchen to take another painkiller. Even though he already knows that this will not help anything. The pain is too deep, too solid. He lets the cold-water flow into the cup. And thinks. Is there another solution?

It started so innocently two months ago. It was early evening. The weather was still wintery. Slight snowfall, temperature just below zero. In the house it was warm and cozy. They would have beef stew for dinner. His eleven-year-old son came to him. He was struggling with a homework assignment. They had to write a poem. For a poetry contest. Could his father help him with this?

Sure, he felt some hesitation at first. He knew that you have to be careful to do your children's homework. But a poem? What harm could that do? And how could you expect someone to know anything about poetry at the age of eleven? Even though Levi was a very bright, overly sensitive boy. He maintained contact with the school about this every week. Wasn't his son gifted? But the teachers refused to pay extra attention to Levi. According to them, the boy was emotionally behind the rest of the class. And smart? He should at least score higher marks in math and language.

Was that it in hindsight? Had he wanted to show the school how intelligent, how wise his eldest son was? Had he allowed himself to be carried away by his emotions, his involvement, his anger, his irritation? Is that why he tried so hard to write a poem? He might be a hardworking insurance agent in daily life, one of his hobbies is poetry. And that came in handy for him on this assignment.

He had forgotten the whole incident when Levi arrived home one day with the big news. His poem was selected as the best in the school. And not just the top of his own school. It was the best from all over the country. As a reward, Levi would appear on TV during the annual Liberation Day. As a representative of the youth.

At first, he had laughed a bit pitifully at the message. Was Levi fooling him? Was this another one of his ingenious jokes? But Levi stood his ground. The credibility of the story was strengthened when the principal of the school called shortly afterwards. And she confirmed the story of his son. Levi had won the competition.

When the director called. When she conveyed the exiting news with voice cracking. That was the moment he should have intervened. Then was the split second to get everyone out of the dream. Yes, Levi was a very gifted boy. But the poem did not come out of the pen. The poem was written by an insurance agent.

But he kept his mouth shut during that first phone call. For fear and shame of being the party pooper? For being happy and relieved that Levi finally was allowed to step into the limelight?

The weeks that followed. Every day he had been on the verge of calling the school. To get everyone with both feet on the ground. To tell that there was cheating involved. Levi did not write the poem himself. But fortunately. They had still time to correct this.

There is a noise. Someone is coming down the stairs. It is Levi. Sleepy, disheveled, and skittish. He shuffles into the living room in his Captain Underpants pajamas. Is he afraid of tomorrow? Does he fear what is coming? Levi clears his throat. He has something to confess. The poem his father wrote. Levi never turned it in. He did not think it was good enough. Later in that night he made something new all by himself. And handed it in. But until now he did not dare to admit it. Knowing how proud his father always is of the poetry he sometimes writes in his spare time.

The boy walks up the stairs. The father looks at the glass of water in one hand, stares at the pill in the other. What was he up to again?