Malia
I can hear the mean man yelling again. He always yells at the boy but never the little girl. I really hate when he hits him the most. I just want to hug the boy with the pretty blue eyes when he cries. He doesn't know I can hear them or see them, but I can.
One day after a really bad night I even sneaked up their fire escape and left the boy a daisy. When I made it back up my own fire escape and back through my window I threw a penny at his window to get his attention.
When the boy looked out and saw the flower he looked so surprised and happy even with his dark bruised eye. I wanted to keep making him smile.
Living behind them, their firescape is only about ten feet from mine. I want to know what his name is because I know it's not little bastard like his dad calls him. Just like her name isn't Princess, at least I dont think it is.
I can hear the mean man's hand smack the boys skin making that bad sound. It sounds just as bad when he hits the boy's mommy too. I want to tell someone what I see and hear but I'm afraid. The mean man tells the boy and his mommy that he'll kill anyone who tries to help them if they tell. I don't want him to die.
I told my big brother Micah once but he said just to ignore it. Micah is five years older then me and he's really smart at fourteen years old. I know if I tell my daddy he'd save the little boy and his mommy. My daddy's a police officer and he isn't afraid of anyone.
But the mean man is a police officer too. I've seen his gun, his badge and his uniform. The boy is going to need me to make him smile tonight. Maybe I'll draw him a picture.He's at it again. The boy no longer cries after his dad hits him. It's been three long years since I've first watched that jerk hit the boy. I know he's older then me but I still call him the boy since I don't know his name. I wish I did.
I've been leaving him pictures and the odd flowers or trinkets on his fire escape for three years now and I'm not even sure he knows it's me. I'm afraid of introducing myself. I don't want to embarress him.
Pulling out my sketch pad and my colored pencils I decide to draw a deserted tropical beach with a lone surf board waiting to be rode in the perfect waves. I have my brothers old shark tooth string necklace he was throwing away that I'm going to wrap around the paper to make it heavy enough to throw. I usually wait till its been quiet for at least a half hour so I know he's not coming back.
I once asked my Dad what would happen to a cop who beat his wife and kid. I've never seen my dads face get so red before. He was almost yelling at me saying they should be beat back to know what it feels like too. But he also admitted that nothing happens to them because their other cop friends protect them.
That made me cry for the boy. Up until my dad told me that I was drawing super hero's (if I'm being honest they all looked like my dad) so they could go save him. But after our talk I decided to stop and draw different places other then his home that he could escape to.
I know he keeps every picture and gift I've given him. I've seen the green folder with the black shoebox that he hides them in. Yes, I know I sound like a creeper watching him like this but I worry about him.
When the picture is done I roll it up and wrap the string around it. Peeking out of my blinds I can see his door is closed and all is quiet. I slowly raise my window so I can climb out onto my fire escape.
I'm wearing my school uniform still and its really cold out here in February. Grabbing a clothes pin to add more weight I launch it the ten feet over to the other fire escape. But today just as it leaves my hands, he appears at his window looking right at me.
I freeze. I know I'm caught now. He doesn't stop looking at me as he raises his own window and climbs out. I can see when he bends down to pick up the paper that there's a growing bruise on his upper arm.
"You're the one who gives me these?" He asks me in a low voice.
All I can do is nod at him. I cant seem to find my voice.
"Why?" He asks me. He's not being rude. He genuinely wants to know why a stranger would be nice to him and it's breaking my heart.
"I like to see you smile" I say without thinking first. And that's all it takes to get one of the boys' rare smiles.
"I'm Rafe. What's your name? You don't go to the middle school. I would remember you and that's not our dress code" he says before ducking back into his room to grab what looks like a sweat shirt. Next thing I know he's throwing a big black hoodie over to me. I look down at it confused.
"You look cold. I was hoping to talk to you for awhile" he says and I can see the blush that crawls up his face from his neck. I slip the sweatshirt over my head and grab the extra blanket off my bed to sit down on.
"I go to St. Maria of Divinity I'm in the sixth grade. My name's Malia." I say. He's just watching me. It's making me squirm.
"I'm twelve. How old are you?" He asks slipping the shark tooth necklace over his head. I can see his smile even though it's already getting dark out.
"I'm twelve too. What kind of name is Rafe?" I ask scrunching up my nose.
"It's short for Raphael. So Rafes just a nickname. Only my dad calls me that though everyone else calls me Rafe. Thank you for all of the pictures and gifts. Why do you do it?" He asks me.
"Why not? You seem like you could use something to make you smile. Do you like them?" I ask nervously.
"Yes. I think this one is my new favorite though. Before it was the herd of running horses with the sunset and the mountains in the back ground." Rafe says happily. Even after what he goes through almost weekly, he still seems happy and an upbeat person.
"That's one of my favorites too." I say simply.
I can hear my dad is home now and he was bringing my moms best friends son from the airport with him to stay with us. He's my brothers age and lives in Minnesota with his mom. But he visits a few times a year to visit his dad who lives somewhere in the Bronx like we do.
"I can hear my dads home. I should go. It was nice to finally meet you Rafe." I say with a smile.
"Do you think we can talk again tomorrow? My dads going to be busy for the next few days and wont be home much. Maybe when I get home from school we can sit out here again?" He asks me hopefully.
"Sure. I'd like that. See you tomorrow Rafe" I say before I climb back into my window. I shut it and give a small wave before heading out to see my Dad and Frankie.
YOU ARE READING
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