[Revising]
In a world already hard enough, Alex Baker tries to navigate his way through life, and make a better world for him and his mother. His dreams are innocent, and his path is set in stones. Except, the paths have started colliding, and the...
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Part II Chapter - 1
He was silent then. He looked into thin air, and the space. He had zoned in, but what made it weird was that he was staring into an uncut piece of steak, like it was the best thing in this world.
He spoke, without taking his eyes off it.
“Ms. Baker,” he said, “Would you mind taking me in?”
Nobody spoke. Somehow, even the noisy streets were quiet. Or maybe, they were just afraid of how dangerous this innocent-looking boy could be. Take me in? Take me in like what—?
I felt that I could have gone insane at this moment. Then again, I did not know where he came from. He had parents. Something had not happened to them recently, right?
No. It could not have been.
But my mom knew to handle the situation better than I did. For if it were for me, I would have yelled at him, or panicked, or driven him away.
But she was patient.
She laughed an ingenuine laugh. “Sure, Nova,” she spoke, her voice weak, “you could come here any day you want. I would love to have you. You could spend the night here if you wish.”
Nova laughed quietly and shook his head. Unlike mom, his laugh was genuine. It was the laughter of a defeated man.
“I am grateful, Ms. Baker. I truly am.”
I slept on the couch. Nova slept in my bedroom. I wanted him to stay, truly, so I was happy when he said no one would mind if he was away for a night. It was great. Though, I should have felt bad instead.
It was an uneasy sleep. Not because the couch was jagged, or because the hall was rather cold. But because of the things that had happened in a single day. When I was finally put to sleep, I felt a shadow linger above, not more than twenty minutes after I had given in to the first nap.
My eyes barely opened. It was some hypnotism. I could not observe anything, and I spoke stuff that I did not mean.
“Are you mad at me?” A voice asked through the dark.
“No.”
“You don’t hate me for what I did today, right?”
“I don’t hate you.”
And I was already gone, taking comfort in the peaceful lap of slumber, after a seemingly long day.
I had almost forgotten the conversation when I woke up. My first thought in the morning was whether Nova would have left without saying anything or not. It did not matter, anyway, because I would see him at school. But I still wanted him to have stayed back, and waited for me. Like he had done once.
And he was there. He had helped himself with my clothes, which he said mom provided for him. Apparently, he was too good to have left without saying anything too.
Our walk to school was an awkward one. There was no need for it to be that way, but perhaps, Nova did not feel comfortable with me on his side anymore. Not after what he spoke at the dinner table the night before. He must have been embarrassed.
So he followed at some distance. Then I remembered it. Even mom had said some embarrassing things to him. My heart burned. But, it was also an opportunity.
I could talk about something now.
“Hey, Nova,” I called, and it startled him. I was concerned. “Hey,” I tried again.
“Listen, I am sorry for what mom said to you yesterday. She did not mean it like—”
“No. I understand.”
His tone made me question if he did not want to speak. I thought that I would give it a second try. I tried to be casual.
“Yeah, obviously, but it was still embarrassing—”
“Did you tell your mom about me?” His eyes studied the ground, and his hand hung from his pockets. “Before yesterday, I meant?”
“No.” I did not feel guilty for my action otherwise, but when he asked, I was a pool of shame.
“You talk to her often?”
“Yes.”
“Then observing her wariness for you, it is only natural that she would be worried about any subject or person you feel you cannot talk to her about.”
His voice diminished, and school was in our sight now. There was no need for him to follow me. So, he did not. And I was left standing, alone.
Do not leave this child alone.
I remember the new words from my mother, the ones she told me before we had left our house.
The days continued, and I watched him fall, almost every day, and then pick himself up. He would be tired, and broken, and hurt, but he would say nothing. After a few more days, I decided that it was enough.
“You cannot keep doing this,” I complained.
“Keep doing what?” he asked. As if he was not already numb.
“I said that you cannot keep up with tearing your body apart for this. You are hurting yourself.” For some reason, my voice sounded too hurt and too agitated at the same time.
“What do you want—”
“Tell me why you are doing this,” I almost yelled amid a corridor packed with people. Since that day, I have always been easy to blush.
Only, I did not fully understand that it was anger.
His muscles relaxed. It had been a sign that he was ready to speak. He looked away, and I did not mind. As long as it was anything that made him open his sealed heart up.
He spoke, “I trust you enough to say it. I am merely creating distractions. To help me run away from—”
He did not speak anymore. I did not want him to. It was enough for me. “Stop wearing yourself down.”
It was a command, and he was truly intimidated. I did not think that I could pull it off.
His head dropped. Then he spoke.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Stop taking on more things than you can handle.”
He smacked his pouty lips. I had never seen it before. He turned and left without saying another word.
