The Love of An Invisible

28/01/2006 – New York, Manhattan, Central Park.

I close my small hands in a shell shape, lift them to my mouth, and blow into both of them. It’s so cold that you can see the warm air escaping between them like white vapor. I’m wearing fuzzy dark blue gloves.

I walk slowly through the park. Despite being six years old, I don’t have any friends to play in the snow or engage in any other activities.

It’s sad, but anyone who comes to talk to me is just there to laugh at me. I never understood why, so I don’t talk much. I don’t understand why children are like that with me. They often play cruel tricks on me, and despite their young age, they know how to make another child feel excluded and sad.

My mother is chatting with a friend, both sitting on a bench a few meters behind me. Mrs. Millenis seems to be kind, though not one to smile often. I’ve talked to her only once; my mother told me she has two daughters, and we’re close in age, but I’ve never seen them. Today, they arrived at the park first and ran off to have fun together, leaving me here alone. Unfortunately, I have no brothers or sisters. I asked my parents for a sibling, but my mother said she couldn’t give me a little brother. I noticed she was sad when she said that, so I never asked again. I hate seeing my mother sad.This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Look at the crybaby!” Leandro’s shout enters my ears. I look at him, dressed in his cream-colored coat and red hat and gloves. I exhale, tired of this. I let my hands fall heavily on either side of my body.

“Cat got your tongue?” Suzana now mocks, dressed in all her pink clothes.

I prefer not to respond. I just keep walking, pretending that they’re not talking about me. A shiver runs down my spine, and I stop walking. I feel the remnants of cold snow on my neck, put my hand there, and turn my gaze to Leandro, who already has another snowball ready in his hands.

“Didn’t your mom teach you it’s ugly to treat others like dogs?” he asks cynically and throws the snowball at me. It hits my face directly, and due to the impact, I take a few steps back but don’t lose my balance.

“Let’s teach him a lesson, guys!” he declares loudly and starts running toward me along with the other children.

I’m thrown to the ground, feeling kicks in my stomach. The first one makes me lose my breath. I curl up and hug my knees to protect myself even a little. After a few minutes, they finally stop the blows. I hear the sound of them running away, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I get up and walk to the nearest tree, sitting on the white snow-covered ground. I rest my arms on my knees and bow my head, feeling immense sadness, and start to cry.

I try to be strong, to not care about what they do to me, but it’s very difficult. I wish I could play, run, and shout with everyone, but no one wants me around, and it hurts so much.

“Look, sis, someone’s sad over there,” I hear a gentle voice. I like the voice, but I ignore it and continue with my water leakage.

Suddenly, the tears stop. I feel arms surrounding me in a warm hug. I lift my head in surprise and see kind eyes without malice. I’ve never seen eyes this color-violet. They’re extremely beautiful and also the kindest I’ve ever seen in my entire life. My attention falls on her mouth, which has a huge smile. I notice one of her teeth is missing, but that doesn’t stop her from having a beautiful smile.

“Don’t cry; things will get better,” she says kindly, as if she knows that my world is falling apart.

“What’s your name?” I ask, now distracted from the sadness and hypnotized by her beauty. She looks like an angel.

“I’m Aya, I’m five years old! Look,” she shows the five fingers of her hand to tell me her age, so cute. “Now I have to go; Mom said not to be late. Dad is coming home today,” she gives me a kiss on my cheek and runs away. I notice that another girl runs beside her, but she’s a little older than Aya.

My heart warms up. I will never forget this girl. I feel like it was a sign from God telling me not to give up; there are still good people in the world. I hope I can see her again.

Now, calmer, I get up from the ground and pat my hands on my pants to remove the excess snow. I walk a little faster and go to meet my mother, who smiles when she sees me approaching.

“Too bad, my son. If you had arrived two minutes earlier, you would have met Mrs. Millenis’s daughters. They are very cute,” my mother says while holding my hand.

I say nothing, and we walk to the car. In my mind, the image of Aya’s violet eyes appears again, and it makes me smile. Will I see her again?