Once upon a crime.
Follow the centimes
I saw him follow. That thin tall guy with a funny face. I would have run to him. He was watching me with so much kindness. He placed his lean finger in front of his lips and winked from the other side of the street.
I wondered long moment how he will do? I mean, to follow. He was so tall: giant. He was taller by at least two heads of all the other. Did he know who I was or did he have other pernicious interests? Will he help me?
Though I was attracted, I just stuck with the sisters, at Mother’s side. I feared getting in bigger trouble if I was to escape again. I observe him as he was still following. Kamla saw him, Kara as well as Kaia and Kala. We all saw him. Hard to miss such a statuary character.
He was keeping a safe distance. I tried to be slower, but I was tugged. And dissatisfying Mother would have made it worst, I dreaded. So I pressed my pace.
The sister helped me, though. I was tightly the first of the chain, Kara, first, placed her hand inside mine and pulled so Mother felt not the difference. It seems that they are used to that game. And since they are all looking so alike, it is easy for them to swap place. So Kara’s hand was inside the one of Mother at that moment. I was freed and I stopped walking, looking at the train passing. But a shake of the head from Kamla and I understood I was better to clutch to the last one, Kala.
So I did, with regrets. I cast a look to the giant following with a sad shrug. He nods. I was so relieve when he did. That meant a lot for me. We were able to communicate. Someone was caring. Someone knew me in all that ocean of people surrounding us. Someone was planning to help.
I smiled to him, avoiding barely a post that stood in my way. But I felt light, so light. Christmas was in about a week and someone was thinking of me. I never believe in Santa-Claus. I mean, not in the way little girl like me are supposed to.
The problem with the whole Santa-Claus things is that he is unreachable. The true one, they said, live in North Pole. And he comes to give gift to obedient children only once a year. My...what an austere life that must be.
I would not be so amiable living like he was supposed to live. And there are the elves. Now, I was totally baffled when I heard of those.
Because Grand-Father was reading me all what Mister Tolkien did. Especially when I was unable to read by myself. I always saw the elves whit above average wisdom, tall like this guy following. Their ears not that long, compare to the Santa-Claus’ elves. Leaner and not at all inclined to play with jingle bells till it gets even over my own nerves.
At that thought, I started to examine the mister trailing behind us. I delicately pull on Kala sleeves.
“Do you think it is an elf?” I asked her.
At that point, we were on the corner of the street, waiting for the light to switch to green, so we would eventually progress again. So Kala had some times to appraise the man.
“He is too tall, not dressed in green. No jingle bells and the ears are not long enough...” she judged.
“Nah,not that kind of elf. The other one. The one that was living with the hobbits.” I protested softly.
She looks at me like if I was an alien.”What is a Hobbit?” She turns to Kamla and Kaia that shrugged.
I could not believe what I heard and it took the tension of Kala’s hand pulling on mine to get out the torpor I was in. They were not aware of who were the hobbits.
I assessed the situation by myself after that. Each time I was allowed to by a lull in the walk we were doing. Each time we halted so Mother could shop, each time I was looking at him.
At a point, he blushed like I was seeing all the way through him and it was making him anxious. His gaze was a lot scanning Mother, like. I hoped a moment he had some magical power. But hey, everyone knows that the elves had no supernatural power.
I only wished now that they did. They would have not allowed this to happen to me, would they?
Anyhow. He was fulfilling the “Elf” characteristics. Tall, discreet and nimble, I finish to sum up about him. The hairs were a bit too long for me to see the ears’ shapes. He worn round glasses, but that could be a disguise.
Every now and then, I lost trace of him in the crowd. At those times, I remember how I felt devastated. It was awful. I was shivering, almost if the weather passed through my thick marine coat.
If there is something Mother does well, it is making sure we won’t catch a cold. In fact, she would be such a wonderful mother if she was less intransigent. And also, less ...I ignore the word for it. Living with Mother is like leaving in a death row. Worst, you’ll know you’ll survive after you get the punishment. I don’t want to be disfigured like Kaia. Will maataa recognize me if I am?
That made me cried when I thought of it, and that is still giving me a pinch to the heart.
I had to do something, but yet, I was too upside down to think what I should.
And I was spying on the one spying on us. Spy VS Spy. I restrained myself to laugh when the image of that thing daddy showed me once was coming back into my mind. I was the black, he was the white. I toyed with the idea a bit.
I had time on my hands, let say it that way. Following Mother was a chore. To be granted with absent-minded during those prances in the big city was the better gift.
Did I think to flee? Of course I thought of it. Each time I saw that man hovering around us I thought of it. Kamla told me once that it was wise of me to have controlled myself. It would have been worst for everybody if I had ran and shout out loud: “I am Haley, please help me out!”
She said that, especially in the city. For them, I was just a babe in the woods more. And they used to believe adult over us, the child, too. I pictured it quite well. That was not very difficult to understand why.
Mother was having nothing out of the ordinary. If I would have ran to that giant, though, more likely he would have been into trouble. Curious how numerous can be the thoughts blooming then wilting in your head. We were out in town less than an afternoon and already so many things unfolded.
Like when we stop to the café. Mother needed some refreshment, she gave us water and there was time to go at the restroom. We all went together.
I assumed that the guy would not be around when we would get out. There, on the toilet head, there was a blank ballpen. I wriggled like a dog seeing a bone, no less, no more. I was all excited and it was so hard to hold back myself. I just cough, to make the thrill go away. Mother, of course, wondered, but I explained that I just swallowed my saliva too fast. She glanced at me very awkwardly when I got out. The ballpen was concealed, well concealed. That helps when there is a hole in the pocket of a coat. That permitted me to hide things in between layers.
I was not about to write anything on my hands before we had to walk again, but that was the end use for the ball pen. If I had done it at that place, Mother would have seen it since she maniacally checks them each time we go to the bathroom. We have to wash them thoroughly and then only she let us out. Otherwise, each of us has to soap and rubs and rinses our hand till all of us are clean enough. And that could take a while.
I achieved the plan whereas she was drinking her beverage. I was blanked mind. I mean what to write in my hand that was short and important: ”HELP”, “The address is...”, “Get me out that nightmare”. Help was not explicit enough. I knew not the address and the nightmare thing was too dramatic. Then, I remember daddy and Maataa. I fancy about what they were living on their side, not knowing if I was dead or alive since they found those corpses. Well, by now they would have figured out none was me, but that would not help them. Perhaps they are crying their eyes out their sockets, thinking they will never see me again. I needed to write something for them. Especially for daddy: He is blushing anytime I told him I love him. He is rough and blunt. I wondered how he was going through this. I hoped, I prayed that they were still holding to each other, him and Maataa. But there was no way to knew it for sure. It required more thought, but Mother was stirring in the bottom of her coffee. Soon we will walk again. So I wrote:”Tell Maataa, Tell daddy I miss him.” Then I hid the pen again and kept this hand closed till I had a chance to show it without Mother been aware of it.
I supposed that, perhaps, the situation will not present itself. But it did shortly after, in the subway on our way back home.
We were walking on the quay, all together in a compact line. Mother shoved us first in the wagon. That was tight in there, but I managed to meander so I got to place my hand in a blank spot of the thick plastic window.
I waited, and waited, getting on my toes to check upon my ‘elf’. He was obvious to follow, but so polite that everyone was abusing and relinquishing him and his tall limbs at the end of the queue. As soon as Mother was checking me up, I was getting back on my heels, then back again.
“Come on! Come on! Be assertive, they’ll never let you pass!” I repeated in my head.
He was making like a dance, three pace forward but two backward. But that was progress. Slow progress, but still something. He was looking at us less then he was on the street. Lot more things to consider, it seems, once inside.
The danger was coming from both bellow and above. I saw him arriving face to face with the cube that advertises which direction you must take to arrive to your destination.
“Ouch!” I made, transposing any pain he must have had, doing so. How to not feel compassion for him?
“Is there something, Kasha?” Mother asked, with a tone that I was not often hearing from her. It has a hint of wariness.
“Someone stepped on my toe.” I complained instantly, covering up my ‘elf’.
I obtained a pat on the top of the head. That relief me that she believed me. I feared that she thrust us to the back of the wagon, or simply attempted to severe me from the window. But she did nothing of that. She seemed very nervous. Being surrounding and touched, even without intention, was perhaps too much for us. Me, the only thing I hated at that time is the fact it was so hot with a winter coat on.
I checked again, and all I saw is the body, no more head, standing aside the wagon door.
Three other men squeezed in and I lost all hope of seeing him again when the alarm warning us of the impending depart ding. The sliding doors closed.
I pressed my hand with the written message on the window, more flatly extended. Now, all is left for me is hope since I saw him running aside the wagon long enough that day. Hope that he would have seen the message, collected the little moneys I let falling behind us. Hope, period.
[I had the impression that I passed through Kamla. I frowned, of course. This could be. I must have been suffering from side effects of the latest blow I had. Thought my thoughts were so lucid.]
[I searched into my hiding spot to find anything that I could leave behind. I found penny like piece of money, but silver-like. I sow them one by one and they rolled in all direction. Some were simply lost into manholes, other went toward unknown horizon.]
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