The judgment had been clear with Barry: probation and social work collecting garbage until the stipulated time was met. There was no extension, no one objected. Barry was completely alone, and his lawyer was certainly indifferent.
"I did what I could" were the words of the old man who boasted about advocating for him. In just a couple of days, his situation had gotten out of hand, and he felt horrible.
"What the hell was all that? Probation? Have I really become a criminal?" Barry questioned himself in his cell. "All this is bullshit. Me, picking up garbage…?"
Barry sat on the cold bed in his cell to continue reflecting. Thinking that at least he was free again, the desire to return home and speak clearly with his father and still be able to recover his status generated a hope in him that would last at least until he returned home.
A couple of hours had passed since the trial, and Barry was only waiting for someone to arrive and open the cell to let him out.
In his thoughts, the figure of his father and brother abandoning him generated an unconscious envy that he tried to hide as confusion.
"I'll be free. I'll be able to restore my status and return to classes…". Barry pressed his temples with both hands and tried to blank his mind, just listening to his breathing. Remaining that way, he didn't notice the arriving guard.
II
Ima had fallen asleep amidst reflections—it was the first time Ima had truly gone deep. Previous years had only accommodated ingenuities and adolescent thoughts—and he only woke up when he felt a gust of warm air on his face.
As soon as he opened his eyes, he instinctively recoiled from Vanesa's leaning figure.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, feeling an itch on his body.
"Your parents let me in. I came as soon as I got off work; school has been tough this past month," she started, moving something she had placed at the foot of the bed. "I brought chocolate milk."
"Thanks…" Ima took the small carton of milk with embarrassment and sat up, seating himself correctly. "Sit down… How long have you been here?"
"I think about 10 minutes; your mother spoke with me. I had never dealt with her, and I was surprised how calm she acts now compared to the hysteria that overcame her when she saw you being put in the ambulance." Vanesa adjusted her pants before sitting down. "How do you feel?"
"I'm fine, although sometimes I have a phantom sensation over the wounds," Ima looked at the floor with shame. "Thanks for what you did with my mother."
"You're welcome, Ima," she threw her head back, and the sunset glow entering through the window gave a silky appearance to her brown hair. "It's to be expected that your wounds sometimes make you feel strange… Technically, you weren't aware of them because you remained in a coma. And looking at them now…"
Vanesa took Ima's bowed face and lifted his gaze toward her. She inspected him curiously, moving her head slightly to see every bruise and cut from the punches.
"They look healthy to me." Ima was completely flushed, but the sunset light prevented Vanesa from noticing. "You even look more masculine with them."
Ima pulled his head away from her hands, in an obvious sign of embarrassment, and Vanesa finally noticed what she had caused. Ima opened the milk and took a good sip to cover up.
"How has school been?" Ima asked.
"Not much has happened among the students, but at least some parents have challenged and questioned the school for allowing something like this to happen." Vanesa stood up and began inspecting Ima's shelves with some books and mostly video games, alarming Ima. "Some people in the classroom remain indifferent, unfortunately, and another handful seem to have been indignant. I think if you return within the next few days, you could be viewed with empathy."
Ima cleared his throat to get Vanesa's attention, but it didn't work. Just when he thought an embarrassing moment would happen, seeing his degenerate taste explicitly exposed to the girl he liked, his mother knocked on the door, and Vanesa went directly to open it.
"Hello, kids. How are you doing?" she inquired, staying in the doorway.
"We're fine, Mom…" Ima sipped the milk again. "How did she find out about my arrival home?" he asked without hesitation. Ima knew his mother wouldn't consider this rude.
"She was the first person responding to the officers when we arrived. From the way she talked about everything, your father sensed that she must be someone who knew you." His mother alternated her gaze between Vanesa and Ima, with evident anxiety.
"That's right, but it seems Ima didn't usually talk much about me." Vanesa returned to sit next to Ima, smiling with a cynicism Ima had never seen on her.
Ima remained silent, unsure what to say. His mother probably thought something was going on between him and the girl, and excused herself by saying she would prepare some coffee.
Ima finished the milk and left the trash on his desk, next to his bed. Vanesa played by wrapping her hair around her index finger.
"And well… What does it feel like to be in a coma? What do you think will happen to Barry?" Vanesa questioned.
"Is she really asking something like that now? What does that matter? Barry is no longer a danger, and I don't think anyone will let him near the school."
"It's just like being asleep and having multiple dreams, one after another," he replied and intertwined his own hands. "I don't know what else I can say about it. And well… I'm indifferent about Barry. I think after everything, I never got to hate him enough."
"I see…" She seemed somewhat disappointed with his answer, but she could tell that Ima genuinely wasn't interested in those things. Gathering her courage, she decided to ask one last question before leaving. Either way, she had made sure Ima was fine. "Tell me, Ima…"
"What's wrong?" Ima was uneasy because when he looked at her, she was blushing.
"Do you really love me?" The question hit Ima like a bucket of cold water, and he began to sweat. "Why did you slowly distance yourself then? Every time I tried to approach you to talk, you somehow shied away, you even seemed foolish."
"You already have the answer: I love you," he replied, his voice choked. "I guess… No one taught me how to love, and I didn't learn to do it correctly. Even when we talked at the beginning of our semester, I think I was too obvious about it." He slumped onto the bed. "But it is decisive: I really love you. Shame drove me away from you, but at least it seems things… Forget it."
Vanesa noticed Ima covering his face with his hand, evidently embarrassed, or perhaps tired.
"Hmm… You're definitely weird," she added, letting out a sweet laugh, "but even so, I'm happy."
Vanesa got up from the bed and said goodbye to Ima as if her presence in his room were the most normal thing. Ima's mother felt serene for the rest of the day knowing her son wasn't so strange.
"So I still look weird, huh…?" Ima's voice was almost a whisper. His gaze was focused on his shelves.
By the night of that same day, and despite his parents' anxiety about him exerting himself, Ima had gotten rid of all his erotic video games by carrying boxes and selling them at the used video game store two blocks from his home.