I have my basketball in my hand. I like to let off some steam with the ball — it was my way of unwinding, sweat and all.
I had already been shooting at the hoop for several minutes. Most of the time I missed, but that didn't bother me.
I stop to take a break — I should mention that I'm not much of an athlete.
I head over to where my bag is to drink some water.
I close the bottle and look up. I see a kid outside the small court watching me.
My eyes go wide seeing the black eye he had. I set my bottle down and walk toward him. I notice he starts to tremble slightly, then freezes when I'm standing in front of him.
I don't understand his reaction, especially since there's a railing separating the court between us.
Me: You wanna play? I say, apparently out of nowhere since it makes him jump a little.
I'm obviously curious about the reason for his injury, but not to the point of asking him about it given his reactions up until now.
He looks up at me, and I make sure he doesn't notice my curiosity.
I then watch him look at my basketball, and he slowly nods his head.
I smile at him and say:
Me: Come on, get in the court.
He moves quickly and from that moment on we started playing together.
I should mention the time I choose to come to the court — there were very few people around, only parents with their young children who had decided to take a walk and enjoy the nearly empty park.
The next day I find the little one — whose name I had forgotten to ask — at the park at the same time, and I hand him the cream I bought for him. It would help him heal faster.
I got attached to the kid very quickly. I learned his name was Alexis. We started to build something between us — like a kind of scheduled meetup to play and hang out together.
There's a very strong bond between us. I told him about what happened to me during my first year and the consequences of that incident.
I gradually opened up to him, day by day, and so did he — even though on his end it took longer, but I had enough patience for the both of us.
I finally learned that the bruises and marks Alexis had on his body all came from one person. His stepfather.
On top of often bringing him medicine for his injuries and lots of little gifts to make him happy, when I learned it was his stepfather causing his suffering, it made me furious.
But I knew I wasn't strong enough — mentally or financially — to help him the way I wanted to. He made it very clear, very quickly, that telling his mother was out of the question.
And unconsciously, faced with my own helplessness, I started to take on a parental role for Alexis. I knew he trusted me enormously to protect him as best I could. That managed to give me a little relief — as did the fact that the stepfather had stopped hurting Alexis.
So I dedicated myself fully to his growth. I listened to him, I gave him advice, and I worried about him.
It was funny to me to say I had a kid only 8 years younger than me, but I found it to be a blessing. Deep in my heart I truly believe Alexis is such a wonderful, incredible, and smart kid.
He taught me a lot too, and in some way helped me find a sense of purpose in my life.
It's been 3 years now since I've known this little wonder that is Alexis. I think he sees me as his parent, since it doesn't bother him to call me that — even though it started because of a bet he lost.
I know how big a place his mother holds in his life, so to boost my own ego I decided he could call me his dad. At first I was his second mom, but he quickly became a huge fan of a classic, well-known movie — so whenever I'd see him I'd say the famous line, "I am your father," which is how what he calls me ended up changing.
[}^{]
I see her in a man's arms. The man kisses her. And I feel such an immense pain in my heart that I know I need to step away for a moment to get myself together.
I quickly look for Mrs. Thomis and ask her where the bathroom is.
I want to splash some cold water on my face to calm down.
And from the look she gives me, I know that she knows — but I'm not sure exactly what she knows.
My thinking seems a little muddled, I'll admit.
She points me in the right direction and I leave very quickly, not realizing someone was following me.
Unfortunately, I get lost pretty fast despite the directions Mrs. Thomis gave me.
Me: Just my luck. I say quietly, adding: Why didn't they put signs on each room? I mean, at least point out which one's the bathroom.
Me: And now I'm talking to myself. I say again, realizing what I'm doing.
It doesn't really bother me to talk to myself — it helps me think faster most of the time. Though I'd understand if some people thought I was crazy.
I finally decide to take my chances with one of the doors.
Me: Oh, shoot. I say, quickly closing the door. Wrong room.
It was someone's bedroom. I start wondering whether I should try again or not.
Me: Okay, so if that's the bedroom, the bathroom should logically be either that door at the end of the hall or one of those.
I start fidgeting with my ring on my index finger. Like talking to myself, it also helps me reorganize my thoughts — and it's also a reflex I have when I'm stressed or bored. In short, no matter the situation or my mood, I fidget with it constantly.
I suddenly feel movement on my leg. It makes me jump, and I shake my leg hard. I let out a sharp but muffled cry.
Since I had leaped a few steps back, I quickly look down to see what touched me — and I see a child staring at me.
I'm mildly shocked. I'll admit it.
But I panic quickly when I see tears starting to form in her eyes.
Me: No, no, no, no... Don't cry. I say quickly. I'm sorry if I scared you or hurt you. I gently move closer so as not to startle her and crouch down to her level.
Me: Don't cry, okay? I'm sorry, sweetie. I hold out my arms but stop, giving the little one the option to come or not if she wants to.
My goal is to make sure I don't startle her.
She stops crying, looks at me, then starts again. What's strange about her is that she cries silently — it's the first time I've ever seen anything like it.
I have the feeling that her silent crying makes the situation worse.
I can feel my guilt quickly reaching its breaking point if I don't calm the child down very soon.
Me:"Damn..."
What I feared happens. My guilt hits its limit. And so I find myself crying in front of a little kid, not knowing what to do.
I try to wipe my tears but nothing works.
Me:"I'm really pathetic."
I have this thing where, when my emotions get to be too much, I cry. Even when the situation doesn't match how I'm feeling.
Here I am, crying in front of a child I'm trying to comfort, just because I feel guilty.
Being too in my own head, I don't even notice that the child has stopped crying.
The child watches me as I tear myself apart in my own thoughts.
Something prompts the child to come closer to me. She moves in, notices I don't react, and moves in again. She keeps doing this until she's only a few millimeters away from me.
I finally notice her presence and lift my head after managing to calm myself down.
I look at her, I notice she's calmed down too, and I feel a fresh wave of guilt wash over me, which makes me apologize again.
The little girl then reaches out and places her hand on my cheek. She starts wiping my tears.
I'll admit, I want to cry again — but I hold it back since I've already cried enough.
Me: I'm fine, don't worry. I say softly. And what about you, are you feeling better?
Instead of answering me, she nods, her hand still on my cheek.
Me: Alright. I open my arms to let her know I want to hold her.
She seems to hesitate, so I start lowering my arms so she doesn't feel forced to go along with it.
Before I fully lower my arms, she surprises me by coming over and wrapping her arms around my neck.
Me: I'm going to stand up. Is that okay with you? I say after taking her in my arms.
I feel her nod. I slowly stand up, giving both my legs and the little one time to adjust.
Me: We need to go wash our faces. Do you have any idea which of these doors is the bathroom? I ask her before making my own guess at one of the doors.
Just as I'm starting to think she might not know, the child surprises me again by pointing to a door while lifting herself slightly from my shoulder.
I thank her and head toward that door. When I open it, I quickly realize the little one was right.
Since the countertop of the sink cabinet is wide enough to sit a child on, I set her down on it and tell her to wait a few minutes while I wash my face.
She sits quietly watching me splash water on my face.
When I'm done, I ask the child if she wants me to clean her face too — she nods again in response.
When I finish, I pull a tissue from my backpack and pat away the excess water from her face. I do the same for myself after putting some saline solution in my eyes, which were stinging a little.
Me: Alright. We're done. I say, then ask the little one: Do you want me to carry you or do you want to walk?
She nods, then shakes her head.
I'm a little confused but I think I can figure out a way to get a clear answer.
Me: Do you want me to carry you? I ask, taking one question at a time.
The little one shakes her head, then looks at me as if to say "She's fine and can walk perfectly well on her own."
I nod and hold out my hand to her. She takes it and I smile at her. She lowers her head, embarrassed.
I smile — she's absolutely adorable.
I open the bathroom door, which had swung mostly shut on its own.
I look down to make sure the little one is doing okay.
The moment I look back up, I feel a sharp pain on my cheek. I'm careful not to drag the little one down with me as I stumble.
I groan in pain, trying to ease it by rubbing it gently.
I usually consider myself to have good reflexes, but I totally got caught off guard.
Me:"Damn..." I whisper. Looking up, I see almost everyone who came to this birthday party.
Standing in front of me is the man who had the woman I want so badly in his arms.
He's angry, but I don't know exactly what his anger is about.
I see his... wife... behind him, with the little girl in her arms.
Me:"That's their daughter."
I feel my heart sink deeply, without quite hitting the bottom.
I stand up, but I have the feeling I don't have full control over my body.
Like I'm floating... No, like I'm falling into a void.
I find myself standing in front of a group of people. Some are looking at me strangely. Others have disgust in their eyes. Anger. Sadness.
Multiple types of expressions are coming at me and I can't make sense of any of it.
The man tries to come at me again, but another man stops him.
I look around for Mrs. Thomis but I don't see her.
The man: Let go of me, Mark! Let go! You hear me! He seems completely hysterical.
Mark: Peter, calm down. he says, still holding him back.
The man keeps struggling, but I tune out his shouts as I see Mrs. Thomis approaching quickly.
I'm hoping she can give me an explanation.
She makes her way through the people around and finally stands in front of me.
I look at her with an expression asking her what the hell is going on.
But I get my answer fast.
Peter: Mark, I told you to let go of me, damn it! This bitch dared to defile my daughter! How does this whore dare to touch my daughter!
That light, floating feeling comes back.
Mrs. Thomis: Peter, calm down, please. she says in a calm but firm tone.
Peter: Calm down? Huh... If you hadn't invited this nutcase, nothing would have happened to my daughter! Who knows what she could have done to my daughter behind our backs! he shouts, glaring at her with pure hatred.
I'm like a puppet — my thoughts are all scrambled. I think I have a look of shock on my face, but everything feels like it's moving in slow motion and I'm not even sure what expression I'm actually showing.
An overwhelming urge to leave comes over me, but I know it's not a good idea. If I leave, it's like admitting they're right, and that's not what I want.
Mrs. Thomis: Peter, stop! Mrs. Thomis suddenly shouts. I'm taken aback by her outburst.
And apparently I'm not the only one — the others look at her in surprise too, even Peter.
Mrs. Thomis looks genuinely furious now.
The man tries to open his mouth again but Mrs. Thomis shoots him a sharp look and he closes it quickly.
Mrs. Thomis takes a deep breath to regain her composure.
Mrs. Thomis: I have cameras installed in the hallway. she begins, turning on her phone.
She holds up her phone screen for the others to see. I figure she's showing them what happened earlier.
I feel no shame knowing I cried in front of the little girl.
Someone: But she goes into the bathroom with the girl. someone cries out.
The woman: Shut up! she says, holding her daughter tightly in her arms. Mrs. Thomis glances quickly at the woman.
Mrs. Thomis: Look carefully — even though the door closes slightly, you can see movement, and what is happening. And besides, less than 2 minutes later, you arrive and they come out. Seriously... She suddenly stops.
Mrs. Thomis: He hit you? she suddenly cries out. She looks at me and notices the mark on my cheek. She furrows her brows and turns to the man.
Mrs. Thomis: Peter, apologize. she says quietly.
Peter: What! She shouldn't have touched my daughter.
Mrs. Thomis: Apologize! And all of you standing here, you should apologize too for the way you looked at her.
I really want to leave — I don't want to stay in this place surrounded by all these people anymore.
Without saying a word, I start to leave, walking away from Mrs. Thomis as she lectures the others.
Mrs. Thomis turns around to apologize herself and notices I'm gone. She looks ahead and sees me walking away.
I hear Mrs. Thomis trying to stop me from behind, but I keep going. I don't want any more trouble.
I decide to slow my pace when I hear Mrs. Thomis apologizing. I don't want her to blame herself for what that man did.
I understand their reaction in some way, but that doesn't make the humiliation I feel any less real.
Mrs. Thomis catches up to me and apologizes again, and I tell her I understand and that she doesn't need to apologize.
Despite myself, she manages to convince me to stay. I feel a little out of place, but playing with Alexis and the kids makes me quickly forget what happened earlier.
I have no desire to be around the other adults. I feel like they'll just get on my nerves.
I let the other kids play among themselves and watch them have fun. Then the idea of drawing them comes to me.
I take out my sketchbook and start making sketches. I glance up at the kids and an image comes to mind.
I look up every so often to keep an eye on the kids. I've sort of assigned myself the role of chaperone.
I figure some of the parents, after the scare from earlier, are probably watching my every move.
I decide to focus a little more on my drawing.
I look away from my drawing and the kids when I hear someone calling me.
I get up and put my sketchbook away in my backpack. I join Mrs. Thomis — the kids rush past me since it's time for them to eat.
I sit down in the seat Mrs. Thomis points out, with a plate she prepared for me in front of me.
I start quietly eating my food once I see everyone else doing the same. I keep my head down over my plate.
I don't feel like I belong here, but the food is good enough to make me forget that.
I feel someone tap my foot. I look up to see who it is. And I realize it's Alexis sitting across from me.
A smile quickly forms on my face to reassure him. He's such a wonderful kid — thankfully he wasn't there earlier, knowing how protective he can be toward the people he loves.
I signal to him to eat. Our exchange doesn't go unnoticed by the woman and Mrs. Thomis.
A few minutes later
It's time to wish the little one a happy birthday. The lights go out and the cake appears. It's a cake in the shape of a well-known cartoon car for kids.
I'm happy for the kid.
While the cake is being cut, the child is given his gifts. Seeing that he absolutely loves my gifts, I smile and quietly look away.
I tell myself it's time for me to go. I feel an early wave of tiredness coming on.
I head over to Mrs. Thomis and whisper to her that it's time for me to leave and thank her for the invitation.
She nods and thanks me in return.
I make my way toward the exit. Just as I'm about to open the front door, I hear Mrs. Thomis's voice.
She walks toward me with a smile.
Mrs. Thomis: Here, this is for you. Call me whenever you need my help, and also to keep in touch. she says, handing me a business card.
I take the card and thank her. She wants to walk me out, but I tell her she's still needed at the party.
I watch her leave and finally step out of the house.
I unchain my bike and get ready to go. I then hear the front door open — I don't pay attention to who just came out.
I'm about to set up my phone and earbuds.
I stop what I'm doing when I finally see who just came out.
I watch her, having leaned my bike against the stair railing.
She comes down the stairs and walks toward me. After a few hesitations, I hear her apologize for what happened earlier.
You can see regret in her eyes, and sadness.
Despite what happened earlier, I can't bring myself to look away — she's like a magnet — but I force myself to. She's unfortunately not mine.
I tell her it's okay and I leave without looking back. I don't want to be the reason a family falls apart.
I know that if I stay any longer I'll do something I'll regret later.
No.
I know I won't regret my actions — but if she regrets it later and it hurts her. I can already picture her in my mind torturing herself with regret, and that's what I want to avoid. I don't want to see her suffer, even in my imagination.
[}^{]
It's been a month and two weeks since I've seen her, and it's for the best.
I kept going to the park — I was on the lookout for a sudden appearance from her, but unlike before, I was more inclined to run than to stay.
I could've easily not gone at all, but I didn't want to let my champ down.
Sometimes I think about how strange the way Alexis and I got close really was.
I'm so close to the kid that I'd do anything for him. When I look at him, he's not just someone's son — he's mine too, as if I had raised him myself.
Of course, I never think of myself as replacing what he already has, but rather that he has a bonus parent ready to do anything for him.
Today I finally decide to go to the park, but this time, I come without any apprehension — I'm just here to play. I have my basketball with me and I start playing by myself. I'm actually having a pretty good time.
I then get a call from Alexis. I pick up right away because it's been two days since I've heard from him. He tells me to come to hospital Z quickly and that he needs me.
I don't even think twice — I grab my ball, stuff it in my bag, and get on my bike. I start pedaling as fast as I can. I'm worried. I don't know why he's at the hospital.
Me:"Did he get hurt?"
Me:"Is something wrong with his health?"
All kinds of thoughts race through my mind, but I need to focus and not hurt myself on the way there.
I arrive at the hospital 15 minutes later, lock up my bike, and head quickly toward the entrance.
I walk toward the man at the reception desk, but Alexis stops me by calling out to me.
I turn and head toward him. I immediately notice the tiredness on his face — I scan him from head to toe looking for any possible injury and relax slightly when I see none.
I ask him what's going on once we finally sit down in the chairs in the hallway.
Alexis: It's my mom — she fainted yesterday. And she still hasn't woken up.
Me: What happened, champ? I ask him, rubbing his back to help him calm down.
Alexis: Mom decided to file for divorce and we had to move out really fast the day before yesterday before he came back home.
Me: I see.
Alexis: We went to stay at my mom's sister's place. And mom had actually been planning the divorce and the move for a while, but hadn't told us anything. According to the doctor, her fainting is from exhaustion and serious lack of sleep and a lot of stress. Her body just gave out.
Me: I tried calling you and couldn't reach you.
Alexis: Mom had my SIM card blocked, but she gave me a new one — I just didn't have time to use it. I'm sorry.
Me: "Don't worry about it, champ — it's not your fault. I completely understand you weren't in the right headspace for that." I tell him, gently stroking his head. "And how is your mom doing?"
Alexis: "Well, we're just waiting for her to wake up." He then looks up at me and says: "Do you want to see her?"
Me: "Uh, if that's possible, yeah." I have no idea what Alexis's mother looks like, hence my curiosity to meet this remarkable woman.
Alexis: "You can see her. Come, follow me." he says, getting up from the chair, and I follow him to a room.