Photographs

"Are you sure you heard correctly?" My lips trembled against the currents that dragged my words through its mist.

Tom snorted as he left his stance on the tree. "Don't you get tired of making absurd arguments or what?" He scowls at me closely as if trying to find the melancholy of my sanity.

"No, and could you abstain yourself from insulting me. I'm sick and tired of you thinking you're better than me when you're not." I hid certain things for a reason. I didn't want to screw this up and have to dig my grave so suddenly.

"And what makes you think I see things that way?"

"Please, I don't have to be an idiot to know what you think of me."

"No, but what can I do against a disappointment."

"Not much, I guess, given your past." I cursed myself for saying such stupidity. It's no wonder why he didn't see me as an equal when I am so ignorant.

"What right did they have to tell you about my past?" He swears as he pushes me against the bark of the tree. The cold touch on my back takes my breath away and the ability to reveal hidden secrets.

"So it was you in the hallway. You know you're not that skilled. I could see you." I tried to be cheeky about the situation, but given his reaction, I made things worse.

"Shut up. When will you learn to shut up?" He raised his voice at me.

"When you learn to treat me with respect!" I retorted in the same tone.

"You'd be the one to talk about respect?"

"Why? I'm not the one with childish moods!" I complained as Tom snorts, and if I believed he looked a bit intimidating, I didn't show it.

"Wow, you've proven you're great at something. Saying nonsense is your charm," With the effort of staying silent, I clenched my fists; Tom's way of being hollowed out a hatred that was like burning with acid. I felt like seething with suppressed rage, so when he nudged my shoulder with his finger, it threw off my balance. Letting my hand hit his face, I deeply regretted it once I saw the nature on his face.

"Candy, what did you do?" Anne expressed as she approached us.

"Tom, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you," I tried to explain, but he merely pushed my hand away when I wanted to touch him.

"Your biggest mistake in life is that you only see things at your convenience. To mature, to become the kind of person who improves the lives of others, you must see through your selfishness. Our love allows empathy; it helps us understand the needs of others, allowing us to make better decisions. " His penetrating gaze made me swallow my words. It had never been colder before, not even when I insulted his mother.

"You probably feel that you know me, that you think who I am or what my story could be. But you don't know anything about me. Maybe I would tell you something; things that no one else has heard to show you that I too have made mistakes, that I can get angry, that I can feel vindictive and come to hate. I would show you my darkness since I've not been fully awake since my childhood. I've been dreaming of a miracle for more than eleven years, a long time to make mistakes, which I regret. But I continue to commit and learn of them little by little. Knowing more does not make you perfect; on the contrary, it shows you how imperfect you are and how much you need to improve. At this moment, I feel that it is not correct to say a single word, given the image you have of me and your mixed emotions. Maybe I'll tell you later, or perhaps never. " He mutters his last words while turning his back on me before walking away, leaving me with embedded tears while Anne tried to comfort me.

"Candy, what happened? Why did you put a hand on him? What was his motive for saying such painful things to you and about himself?" Anne tries to understand what she witnessed without judgment as she held my head against hers.

"It's a long story, and I don't know if I should tell you something that doesn't concern me," I explained between sighs.

"I understand; you don't have to tell me anything. I only want you to know that you can count on me."

Having someone like Anne was a relief. She knew me better than anyone, but she still prevailed like everyone else. She saw life as those who had nothing but wanted everything. We were friends, but emotionally we didn't connect. I longed to talk to someone who understood the mind's manners, who knew that our intellectual walls were artificial. But I guess that was the point of communicating, getting what we had in our minds out, and starting new ideas. But I still yearned to have a conversation where I feel energized instead of being upset by people's lack of mental flexibility. I want to be optimistic about the human soul and the future of the earth, with discussions about adventures and vacations abroad or something compared to the sheer beauty of a tree.

"Come, let's go play; maybe having fun will take away your problems for a moment." Anne suggests before she proceeds her way to where the children played hide and seek.

"Maybe," I mumbled as I took one last look at the direction Tom had presided.

"I hope you can forgive me ..."

~ • ~ •~ • ~ •~ • ~ •

As the day progressed, I was surprisingly calmer than usual. Tom's words coincided with every minute that passed, but I didn't give it much thought. Paulina seemed concerned about our behavior, but she never questioned it. I guess she knew we needed time and space. Amendments are generally not resolved overnight. Or it could be that she knew the burden they put on my shoulders and thought that adding more weight on them would end up breaking me. At least she was reasonable, unlike others that limited theirs.

Was I wrong to accept her request?

When I bite into a green leafy omelet at dinner, I smile at the different flavors mixed in every bite. I had to admit that this was delicious.

"This is very good, what is it?" Sasha asked, picking up some of the grains with her fork. With a childish smile, I raised an eyebrow. "Its nettle and green onion with dandelion leaves."

"Really ..." It never ceases to amaze me how stupid children can be. They think everything alien to their knowledge is incredible. But they are children, innocent of thought, so why criticize them?

"Of course, it's my favorite dish Tom prepares on special occasions," the sister announced proudly. The other shrugged at the praise of his plate. Tom always felt out of place when recognized for his accomplishments as if he didn't want them. I didn't understand it; sometimes, he had all the attention any kid would want. But he preferred to fight against it. Why?

"And what is today's special occasion?" Ben inquired with food in his mouth. That kid never really misses an opportunity to fill up.

"Ben, your manners," Paulina smiles at him. She was the calmer of the two. Sister Superior, on the other hand, had a fierce heart. It could be that her past defined the woman she is now.

"Sorry," Ben begs as everyone laughs at how hard he struggled to swallow.

"So what makes today so special that we got to eat something so delicious?" He asks again; actually, I was curious as well.

"In two days, we will celebrate Christmas Eve and Christmas," announced Sister Lane. Seeing the confusion in the little ones broke my heart. On these occasions, the affection of family and friends gets celebrated by gathering at a feast full of love and happiness. I didn't blame them for not knowing how to celebrate such festivities. Half of them have only been with us for a year. And before that, their way of life forbade such joy from becoming a possibility.

"What is Christmas Eve and Christmas?" One of the children asked.

"It's the most wonderful time of the year," Anne explains.

"Days full of joy," adds Tom.

"A night surrounded by love and affection with the most wonderful people in your life." Hearing the importance of such particular dates made everyone anxious for the next few days. Our caregivers, in return, glimpsed at us with dismay since we have never lived a day as we describe it.

But what else could we have said other than the truth?

~ • ~~ • ~~ • ~~ • ~~ • ~~ • ~

After dinner was over, I stayed to clean and put everything away. When I was about to wash the dishes, I felt someone behind me. My world stopped when I recognized the person's voice asking me for a minute of my time.

"Candy, can I talk to you outside?" I cursed myself for being such a coward and his audacity for speaking to me again after what happened.

"Not now, Tom. It's my turn to wash the dishes, maybe later?" I said without facing him. I didn't want him to see how scared I was to be alone with him.

"I guess so ... Later it will be then," I hear him agree before Anne decides to intervene and stop him from leaving.

"Don't worry, Candice, if you want, I can wash them for you while you go both talk."

"No!" I tried to make her see that I didn't want to. "I mean, there's no need. I'll do my part."

"Candy, it's okay. Anne can wash them tonight; you can go with Tom. Can't you, Anne?" Mother Superior implied. God, did she had to intervene.

"Yes, gladly," The cheeky girl nods as she smiled at me. Since when is she so willing to do housework? I glared at her.

"You see, Candy, you don't need to stay, now run along. Just make sure you cover yourself well. It's cold outside." I rolled my eyes at the cheery plan.

"Yes, Sister," I whispered, but she halts my path for a minute.

"Remember what we agreed on," Wow, here we go again; doesn't she see that maybe mentioning his past might cause him pain?

"I think it's best to leave things as they are. I know it might seem nice to ask, but in this situation, it isn't. Unless you stay in charge of the care of Tom's wounds after I unlock them."

Long ago, I've learned that people can be insignificant at times. Every life lesson is a terrible pain; That is why I strive to accept people for who they are and be compassionate. So this conversation wasn't much, but I understood something that I hadn't realized before by balancing my chakras. Once outside, I kicked some snow off the porch while looking around. Tom wasn't around, so I took a walk around the side of the house only to find my worst nightmare around the corner.

"Come, let's go to our tree so we can talk privately." He was a boy of few words. But if that's the case, how can such a short dialogue be so complicated?

As we headed up the steep hill, I felt the grass's frost invade the inside of my boots. Wind currents were the enemy in keeping my eyes open. Being so lost, I didn't realize we had reached our destination after colliding with Tom's back. To avoid eye contact, I chose to climb the snowy tree to keep my distance and contain the shame that burns inside.

"Seriously," he proclaimed. "Get down from there, it's dangerous, and ... you can slip!"

"What is dangerous? I have never heard of it?" I joked.

"If you're not going to take this seriously, I'm leaving!" He looked at me determinedly before turning around and starting to walk back.

"No, wait!" I said right away. "Sorry, don't go; I want to hear what you have to say."

"Get down then!" He reasoned, but it wasn't going to work. Not until I calmed down.

"I would, but I feel safer here."

"I will not hurt you." He reassured me. I knew he wouldn't.

"I know you won't, but that doesn't mean I will. So to make sure that doesn't happen, I'll stay here," I pointed my butt on the surface of the branch before smiling down at Tom.

"Very good, if you say so," he sighs as he begins scouring the bushes for something.

"What are you doing?" I ask curiously.

"I'm looking for something that I hid earlier." What or why would he be looking in such a place is a mystery? He was a strange guy.

"Like what?" I asked.

"You'll find out soon; just be patient for now." I snorted, annoyed, wrapping my coat around myself; it was freezing.

When Tom finally found whatever he was looking for, he pulled out a mysterious item from its hiding place before handing me a wooden box the size of my lap.

"Why are you showing me this?" I asked him, confused by the strange gesture.

"Because everything in that box contains the last remaining pieces of the puzzle that is my life," he tells me as he admires the bright moon that appears like a full moon casting a blue glow on our skin. I was speechless as I glanced at him. Why have I never seen this before? Was this box indeed the key to his past life?

Looking inside, among letters and postcards, sat photographs. Although not aged, on the contrary, they seemed new, as if freshly dipped in ammonium thiosulfate. In them, people celebrated, laughed, or sometimes kissed. In one photograph, in particular, stood a Castilian woman with the similar shape of eyes and facial features that the boy in front of me possessed. They looked happy; I wonder if she was Tom's mother. As I turned to him, the sadness in his soul explained everything to me.

"Why did she do what she did," a mother's love is never once fabricated? It seemed that she loved her son. But that's my perspective on things; for him, it could have been something else.

"Wealth has a way of changing people's minds and desires. When it came looking for my mother, she didn't think twice." He snorted, kicking a stone.

"I do not know what to tell you," I said, thinking that maybe the same thing went on with my parents.

"The right thing is not to say anything," he replied in a small whisper.

"Why keep all of this intact if you don't want to fool the past?" I blurted out without realizing that I had said it out loud.

"I have never seen my best memories, fearing that they will fade, discolor, or get damaged, but I was wrong. These images are just conduits from my memories, which are not fantastic or traumatic enough to leave a permanent mark independently. My rememberings are the complete opposite of these celluloid stills. Unless I do not visit them, they'll fade, and with them, the past, as if it hadn't happened. It was in those moments of joy that I saw the people I loved to be the victim of their troubles. I saw my mother's love and my father's childlike spirit disappear overnight. In a way, I have always needed this box to feel alive when I felt that my nightmares would erase all traces of those people that I still love, even in their absence. This box is the evidence that I used to belong to beautiful souls, even when they made the worst mistake in leaving me. But who am I to judge? Enough stress can change the best of people, even me. " At the end of his speech, I couldn't help but see the broken pieces on his countenance. For the first time in my life, I can see a side of Tom that I ignored for years—making me recognize how indifferent he was from us.

"Tom, I know what you experienced is something that neither you nor I could magically fix. These sacred treasures," I returned his belongings. "Are your anchor for a new beginning that you can experience with people who care about you and love you as you want."

"Thank you," His lips formed a small smile as his eyes sparkled with tears against the moonlight. I wanted to comfort Tom, but I didn't want him to think I felt sorry for him, making him feel weak. So I jumped off the branch and brushed off my pants upon landing.

"Come on; it's late," I said as I started to walk away, but Tom grabbed my wrist lightly before moving me closer to him.

"T...Tom ..." I turned to look at him.

"Sorry," he said, moving closer.

"Why are you?" His lips silenced me. I immediately put my hand on his chest and pushed him lightly to break the contact. " Which Tom leaned back instantly.

"So ..." he said, taking a deep breath. "I guess ..."

Don't say it, I said. "Your eyes are even more beautiful with the reflection of the moon."

"Tom!"

Tom's point of view

"Tom! What the hell is wrong with you? Why did you do that?" She argues. Her face looked like a firecracker with how red it was getting.

"Was it that bad?" I ask, on the verge of defeat.

"That's not the point! Why did you kiss me, pervert?" She insists, kicking my glitters. I'm such an idiot. How could I get carried away by my most sacred desire?

The minute she pushed me away was heartbreaking. The only thing I could muster was to escape, avoiding the reality of my life and the consequences from them.

As soon as I got home, I fled to my room, ignoring my family's questions. The only thing that amounted to anything was the emptiness of being alone with my demons. When I hurled myself on the bed, Anne ran to find her friend without imploring anything; she only left without thought. At times like this, I feel more alone with these children, with no sense of communication. I've never had friends; most of my life, I have been alone. At school, I was the loner, the nobody, a needle in a straw heap. I was not left in abundance by choice. I just wasn't the type of person anyone wanted to talk to and what happened a few seconds ago was the final straw in trying to fit in.

There is no one to blame except me; being unpleasant was not knowledge. It was the reason my mother left me; It was me that my father confessed that he did not love. I never wanted to admit that I suffer from a broken heart because expressing something so sinister and ruthless would prove how weak I was.

This was better.

Being alone was better.

In times of weakness, I remember all the bad things that I said once, but they were never reflections of you, mother, only of my inner fear. You worked so hard, and I only saw what you couldn't do. With that hardship, how could I be the perfect son that the newspapers said I could have been? When you left, you fled without a sentence. I never hope to get you back because you don't deserve me; But every day, I pray for someone to treat you well, that you regain all the happiness you never lent me and those wasted years we share. But sometimes, I can't help but wish that you were still by my side. To overhaul our problems, but it was me you left behind. So I grew up and learned what matters, but not ideal enough for the impossible.

Little by little, I felt the darkness descended upon me like a blanket, but not out of warmth, but a coldness that makes me shiver. Somehow, it made me feel more substantial and cumbersome. In the end, I let my eyes close in a dreamless dream.