Chapter III

It was a late afternoon when that filthy man arrived dragging behind him a young mother and her son a sweet little boy who was still so innocent. I do not know what made them move to the city, what was the idea behind this decision, but I only hoped she knew that this city would eat them both alive and feel nothing afterward. Just like it did with me, just like it consumed me and did not react to it whatsoever. It did not get sad or happy nothing changed for it, and that is the worse part, taking away one's innocence and gain nothing in return. Doing something, just because it could, taking something just because it was there for the take. I recognized his steps, I could do so even in my sleep, I recognized his breath echo in the empty half dead half alive hallway, and then the knocking on the door. I got up and opened the door. My mother had already warned me that he would drop by and bring someone with him. I briefly greeted him and smiled at the young mother and her son and invited them in. He introduced us, not by name, of course, he was not human he just signed towards them and said this is my friend who will live here starting from today. This is her son, and then immediately sat on the sofa and started shuffling through the TV channels like the useless piece of meat that he was. I showed the mother, Cynthia, to her room and introduced her to the space she would be occupying, briefly, according to her. What she did not know, was that there was no leaving this place, there was no such thing for my mother, and I did not see any chance for the two of them. After she was acquainted with everything, I took Johnny to his new room, our room. I cannot put into words the disappointment that fell on his face when he saw the state of it. When he saw that there were only two mattresses on the floor, a small wardrobe and a tiny desk that he would have to share with me, and I with him. I can only imagine that his mother filled his head with big dreams of what life would be like once in the big city, poor kid had no idea of how bad it could get. I tried to lift his spirits by telling him what a beautiful city this was and how wonderful the park was, the small lake, and all the ducks and swans that lived there. After a lot of struggle on my part, he cracked a little smile through his closed lips, and from there you could say that there was some form of a dialogue between the two of us. He told me that he loved reading books, so I started singing tales of all the bookstores he would find here, where he could find all sorts of books, even those that were not allowed to be read. I saw a glimpse of shine into his eyes, he was fascinated by those forbidden books, that little boy had a hungry mind and that made him dangerous, especially to himself. He would unfortunately spend his life misunderstood. He could speak volumes but no one would ever understand him, this realization made me feel sorry for him, being a castaway could ruin your soul and he would have to either spend his days in loneliness or sell himself to the crowds, following them to nowhere. I could only hope he would be strong enough not to opt for the second option, stronger than I was. His mother made her way to the room and I found the opportunity to leave without worrying about him. The filth was still on the sofa, seemed he had fallen asleep there. I got the keys and left the apartment, I had to get a long list of groceries my mother left on the kitchen counter. While going out I saw his door half-open, just like every other day, it did not matter if it was the middle of the winter, his door would be always open, and I think he would do so to keep an eye on me. I felt protected even if everyone else feared him, he never scared me. I knew he loved me but there was no hope for us. I loved him too, in my way of course, and that way was not how he wanted it to be. It did not matter to him anyway. He was not keen on possessing me; all he cared about was that I was safe, that this big dark world would not poison me. I never had the heart to tell him that it was too late for that, that this world had already killed me, but what would I gain from it? Thinking that I was safe and innocent was what kept him going, what made him happy so I decided to live it there, leave him thinking that he accomplished his sacred mission, protecting me! I left the building behind and arrived at the grocery store. There I met the good doctor that healed my mother back to life when tragedy struck us. When my mother was jumped by some stray animal that was not satisfied enough by robbing her of all her money. I owed him so much and one lifetime would not be enough to pay him back, he was one of those rare people that gave me hope in humanity, one of those rare people that helped just because he could and not because of the reward. Yes, he took no money from us, quite the reverse, he paid for everything, the surgery, the medicine and he even brought us food some of the days my mother was not able to move. He saved both of our lives and I am sure that he would do it all again if needed, that kind of a man he was. We greeted each other and did the occasional small talk about how things were going, how my mother was and what a cold spring that was. I got what I went there for and went home. He was still sleeping on the sofa and in my room; Cynthia and Johnny had fallen asleep too. They looked so untroubled and peaceful. As if nothing could bother them, so who was I to do so? I left quietly, I did not want to be there alone with him even in his sleep, that’s how much that man scared me, so I left again and went downstairs. The door was still open; I went in quietly closing the door behind me. He was sitting there sketching something, as he did most of the time. Sketching something macabre, I never knew what inspired him to sketch those little animals as he did. The one he was still daubing when I leaned in to take a quick look was a small cat. The poor little creature was lying on its back, the four little paws were nailed on a board and its belly was open the skin peeled off midway. What made it worse, was the fact that the eyes looked alive, alive, and asking why this was being done to it. I had no idea what that little sweet thing had done to deserve that but I did not dare to ask. He heard me and quickly closed the sketchbook. Turned my way and asked me if the man had already left. I told him that he was up there sleeping and then I told him about Cynthia and her son. His eyes had no expression, no emotion except the one that was always there when I was with him. He just kept listening to whatever I was saying; even though he rarely reacted to anything I knew that he was listening with undivided attention. I know you will think that I am cruel for leading him on in a certain way because I knew how he felt about me and worse I knew that I could never respond to his feelings and still kept him close. Maybe I was, but aren’t we all? We just take what we need, and do not think about what we are leaving behind. We just take and take and never think about giving something back. Well, I never asked for anything from him, and isn’t that what unconditional love should be about? Loving someone without expecting to be loved back? Yes, he loved me, but he never asked me if he could, he just did, and I could not comprehend why that should obligate me to love him back. The only fair thing I could do was, be honest with him, be honest about what could never be, so that he would not feed any false hope and live-in delusion. That was all I owed him and nothing more. Why would that make me cruel? Because I was accepting everything he offered, I am only human, I needed all the help I could get and when someone is offering it freely, I would be a fool not to take it! Life is hard enough, and we only get what we take. Everything else is just a beautiful lie we feed ourselves in our darkest days when we choose to blame everything else except ourselves. Accepting that we could have done something, yet we did nothing, would mean accepting the fact that we are just a failure and nothing more. It was already pitch dark outside when I heard my apartment door open and he left, finally. I said goodbye to him and kissed him on the cheek, it entertained me a little bit when blood would rush on his face after that, again, I was being a little cruel, but admit it, being loved that way by someone gives you such pleasure that makes everything else small and not of any importance. When I got home my mother was cleaning the table and there was still food in the oven. She was tired but seeing me never failed to make her force a smile. I told her a little bit in whispers about Cynthia and Johnny, I told her that they seemed very nice, which was not a lie. After that I just sat in front of the TV and stared at something, I was not listening to a single word that was coming out of it but I liked to entertain my eyes when my mind was wandering everywhere else but there. I heard Cynthia coming out of the room and gave her a little nod and a smile; she and my mother went together to her room and closed the door. Johnny came out and sat beside me, he was still a little sleepy but the idea of the many forbidden books he would read had not left his mind, I guess he even had dreams about it, so with much joy, I started talking to him and I promised we would go there tomorrow morning so he could see for himself. He leaned on his side and emptied his eyes on the TV, I could tell that his mind was full, to the brink, as I said he had a hungry mind and after what I told him, his mind was not only hungry but restless, and I doubted he would be able to get any sleep that night.