The Wish of a Paper Boy

Part Two

"You can't help her."

My throat feels dry and raspy, papery from dehydration and my mom knowingly passes me a paper cup that I put to my lips. The liquid instantly satiates my thirst, but I only take two sips, for drinking too much may cause my stomach to get soggy.

I put the cup back down, making sure I release it entirely before pulling my hand away. "I have to." I tell her. She is busy checking on the dough rising from the stone oven and I catch a whiff of the heat when she pulls away.

She turns around and gives me a stern look, "No, you can't. There's nothing you can do for her at this point."

"How do you know that?" I can feel the heat rising at the back of my neck.

Mother lets out a huff of exasperation, "I just know. People have been talking."

"Like people talked about me?"

"Papier." She says my name as if I've said a big swear word, but I keep my gaze on her, steady and unwavering because I know that people talk, I know of the rumours and gossip she tries so hard to hide from me.

"What?" I snap back, "do you think I don't know what people have been saying about us? About me?"

"That's..." her strong demeanor falters, "that's different."

"It's not different. People are saying I'm disfigured, grotesque, unable to walk in direct sunlight because I might burn on the spot. And yet, here I am. The rumours mean nothing, Mother. And I'm not leaving Aurore to fight this alone."

My eyes then slide away to fall onto the table. I can't seem to put my thoughts together. They seem to crash and jumble into each other as if a storm has taken over my logic. Aurore's pale face flashes through my mind and I can't help but wince.

Aurore, so pure and kind and genuine. Aurore, who's been nothing but wonderful to me.

I'd die before leaving her alone in the dark. I know how it feels, I know how scared she must be.

I decide to take action. I push my chair back and it screeches against the stone floor before I grab onto my jacket hanging from the coat hanger. Ignoring my mother's cries, I exit carefully through the door and start walking towards the village centre, towards Aurore's house. Already, I can feel the familiar ache in my ankles, still bruised from yesterday's walk to the hospital and back. Even when the wooden sandals were adequate and safe for my feet, that doesn't mean I can walk miles in them. My ankles had been bleeding by the time I reached home.

Her family does not know about our relationship but that did not stop me during the few times I had managed to crouch right outside her window to murmur into her ear until the early hours of the morning.

When I reach the familiar redbricked building, I can hear hushed voices, high childish sopranos mixed with soft brass tenors, and I lean against the stone wall of their bakery for a moment just to let the comforting hum of night time calm my nerves. Aurore has told me so many stories about her family, stories that have made me smile and dream of my own siblings. While my mother had done everything in her power to keep me safe and to make me the happiest individual even with all my handicap, I had always wondered what it felt like to have a brother or a sister, to be able to fight with them and run around to do chores together. Mother had never told me about my father, but the least I know is that he had spared me one look, before deciding that I wasn't his child. Ever since then, my mother and I had lived alone.

Aurore's bedroom light is on, shining through her translucent curtains. I curl my fingers into a soft, relaxed palm before reaching over to knock on her window. Two taps, just as we'd established a few years ago.