1000

The Boy and the Beggar

The bell rang signifying the end of another boring school day. Kids jumped all over rushing to leave. Well, not all over. One boy, sitting at the most distant row from the door, didn't jump. He didn't even move. He remained still, looking out of the window the thin white clouds barely covering the blue sky.

It was a nice, warm day. October has come but, thankfully, summer is not willing to leave. Well, maybe these clouds try to imply that autumn has already arrived, but they are so thin and unnoticeable that they are not able to make their statement clear.

"Monday, huh? Mondays are nice. They promise a whole week full of excuses to be away from home. I hate weekends! I have to put up with my parents all day long. But school days are nice. Nobody really likes me here either. But at least, here, nobody really hates me. They just don't care about me... That's such a nice feeling!"

The noises slowly faded away. "I wish I could stay here... I love school when nobody is here... I wish my parents d... no! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! I wish I was not living with my parents. Yes! That's it. I wish I was living by myself!"

"Still here, as usual, aren't we Peter?"

"Sorry to bother you Ms Martha. I am on my way", answered Peter, the boy, to Martha, the charwoman. Not counting the teachers asking questions while examining the students, Ms Martha is the only one in school that talks to Peter. Well, she doesn't really talk to him and neither is she really bothered by his presence. She is just being polite.

Without the slightest haste Peter stood up, took his satchel and start heading to the classroom's door. "Have a nice evening Ms Martha".

"Oh, thanks! You too Peter".

And he left the classroom, walking rather slowly towards the building's exit, and into the school yard. He took a deep breath. "Such a lovely view! The school yard with all my favourite people in it", he thought scanning the empty yard. He smiled. He continued his... ehm... marching towards the exit of the yard even more slowly. It didn't seem possible, but he made it. I really wonder how!

After passing the yard gates his pace changed. He now started walking like a normal person. Maybe a normal elder, but a person nevertheless. Well, the longer it would take him to go home, the less time he would have to tolerate his family, so why should he harry?

I must clarify here that Peter does not hate people. He actually likes them. He just doesn't want to be around them. There are four kinds of people in this world; at least from his point of view. The ones who avoid him thinking he is weird and uninteresting, the ones that act like they like him because they need his help, the ones that have never met him, and Ms Martha. She doesn't seem to need him or his help anyhow, but she is still polite to him. An oddity of the universe, as he believes.

As I said, Peter likes people. He likes studying them, he likes helping them. He doesn't like relating with them for every time he tried to relate to anyone he ended up hurt and literally or figuratively abandoned. His parents were not an exception to this rule. They were actually the firsts to prove it correct. They didn't abandon him in the eyes of community, but they did so emotionally.

After all, he was a mistake. The result of a broken condom, during a period of poverty that an abortion would be a forbidden luxury. Both his parents had told him so when he was six; and they never let him forget it since then. As he was still a child, he tried to turn their mind into loving him, but, of course, that never happened. He doesn't really care about it anymore. The only problem is that he still lives with them. Oh, and that he is constantly suspended for having been born.

On his way back home, there is a very small park next to a church. This park has a small artificial pond in its centre and there are two fountains in it, one small and one large. There is a small bridge crossing this pod just between these two fountains. Peter likes sitting on the railing of this bridge watching the large fountain spraying its water. When sitting there you can practically hear nothing else but the sound of the water. That is why he likes being there so much.

It is to this park that now Peter arrives. Around the pond there are some benches, but usually, at this time of the day, there is nobody sitting there. Usually!

The boy couldn't avoid noticing the young lad sitting on one of them today. Blonde, tall, very thin, but nice looking nonetheless.

"He must be homeless", Peter thought. Obviously enough. The youngster, seemingly about 20 years of age, was barefoot and wearing clothes quite worn. Sitting on the bench, with his feet on it, hugging his legs, resting his chin on his knees, looking in front of him without seeing.

But Peter could see. He saw the pain in the boy's gaze. Even more, he recognized this kind of pain. Being abandoned and unable to cope with it.

But, although Peter could see the pain in the green eyes of the boy, he failed to notice something extremely odd. The barefoot beggar with the wrecked clothes was clean. Yes clean, just as if he had just come out of the shower, and without stepping on the ground, he just happened to appear on the bench. But as I said, Peter didn't notice this.

He took his satchel off his back, unzipped it and took a sandwich out of it. Quite a big one, that is. Every morning his mother made two of those for Peter to take to school. Not because she really cared. But one should mind what people may say. So, instead of giving him any pocket money, she makes two enormous sandwiches that he MUST eat.

Every noon Peter returns from the school, unable to eat them both, and his mother gets angry saying "no lunch for you young man", and sends him to his room. It's an excuse, I guess, for his mother to avoid cooking lunch for him.

Anyway! Holding this two-servings-sandwich he approached the young beggar.

"Excuse me sir", he said softly with a gentle smile in his face. The young man turned his eyes to face him. "Sorry to bother you... Can I please ask for a favour? Would you be so kind as to take this?" he said offering the sandwich.

The young beggar had fixed his eyes to Peter's. He blinked once and once more. His jaw had fallen. His face seemed brighter. His eyes started shedding tears. He jumped from the bench on the ground. He kneeled in front of the boy, grasping his hands with his own, kissing them while crying and repeating "Thank you!"

Peter was a little shocked. Well, logically! But as soon as he came out of it, he tried to pull his hands from the other's grasp, without using much force, and in the same soft voice, wearing the same kind smile he simply said "Not at all! I should thank you. Truthfully! You'll be doing me a favour eating this... Please sir, don't do that. It embarrasses me".

The beggar hearing that, stopped at once. "I am sorry sir! I didn't want to embarrass you in anyway..." and he stood up. Peter smiled even more brightly. The beggar sat again on the bench. Peter sat just next to him. He put the sandwich in the beggar's hands and even more softly than before said "Thank you sir for helping me".