Barry had woken up as usual to head out for his community service. He got ready and ate the best breakfast he could with the meager food he had reserved for the entire week. Following his abandonment, he no longer had enough money, nor anyone to manage the household shopping. He chose to keep the small amount of money his father had left—a final act of pity—within a minimum usage margin.
Upon arriving at work, no one greeted him, but that was routine; some of the collectors even felt a lingering fear of his presence after being explicitly told he was on probation. Even so, Barry felt no sympathy or thought toward anyone there. "It's all just work," as some of the collectors would say during their breaks.
"Don't you think we should tell him where we're going today?" asked the man who had previously seen Barry nearly collapse emotionally on the job. "If he goes there in his situation, he might…"
"No one cares but you," the elder of the group replied, zipping up his uniform. "We have nothing to do with the boy's actions."
In unison, they all agreed. Five minutes later, everyone was on the truck, heading toward the park across from the school where, just days prior, Barry had been a regular student before his expulsion.
When they arrived, Barry's face fell in shock. He thought it was some kind of joke, and even gathered the courage to ask about it, but everyone gave him the same answer: "It's work."
Barry had to work in total discomfort in front of a place so familiar, yet now closed to him. He tried to work in the furthest areas of the park, but it seemed everyone around him was in a conspiracy to keep him near the entrance.
The school bell rang through the silent surroundings, and the students closest to the building began to arrive and enter.
"This can't be possible…" he muttered in a whisper, immediately trying to work without facing the school.
The futility of his idea wouldn't surprise anyone. It was inevitable that sooner or later someone would notice his presence in the park, given the stir his case had caused in the area and on social media.
"Isn't that the guy who got arrested for sending his classmate to the hospital?" asked a female voice that, though weak, was perfectly audible to Barry's restless ears.
"Yeah… I think so," another girl replied. "What is he doing dressed like that? He looks ridiculous."
Barry turned his body, completely infuriated, and the girls hurried into the school, but they mocked him again in a split second. What would he dare do to them with his current reputation? Nothing.
"Wasting time?" the elder's voice brought him back. "It's incredible that being the kind of scum you are now, you have no respect for us." The old man walked up to Barry and poked his chest with his index finger. "And you better not slow us down, because at this rate, we'll surely have to come back tomorrow! So forget the shit in your head and work!"
Barry knew there was absolutely nothing he could do: he couldn't raise his voice, nor refuse the request, or he would get in trouble. The old man made sure Barry swallowed his emotions in the face of the mockery, but evidently, it didn't push the pain away.
II
"Mom, do you think I'm a bad person?" Ima held the cup of coffee his mother offered him tightly, his eyes fixed on the dark liquid. He was alone with her after spending most of the afternoon playing at the arcade.
"Why do you ask, son?" His mother had noticed his features since he arrived, but as a mother usually does, she trusted that her son would tell her everything truthfully. "Did something happen outside?"
"No, it's nothing like that…! It's just…" Ima began to feel a tightening in his heart. "What do you think about Barry? Do you think what happened was fair? I mean… I didn't think things would end like this." Ima took a sip; the coffee was still steaming.
"Are you worried he'll try to attack you again?" she asked, finally sitting down.
"I don't think he'd dare do something like that, and in fact, it's something that generates… a horrible sense of guilt." Ima finally raised his eyes to his mother. "I only wanted them to give him a warning strong enough so he'd never dare come near me again, Mom…"
Ima's mother smiled and crossed her hands on the kitchen table.
"You're just like your father at your age," she commented, standing up. "What else is on your mind?" She took Ima's head as she moved close to him and pressed it against her heart.
"Since I woke up, Barry has been circling my head. When you told me he had been reported by the teacher, I felt it was excessive. You know? I've even… I've even blamed myself for what happened. But if I had never dared to… I'd still be a coward." The last words were muffled, and his mother didn't perceive them. "I wasn't consulted on what I thought about everything, or what decision I would take, and it's normal, I was clumsily laid out in a hospital bed!" Ima let go of the coffee cup and threw his hands over his knees in frustration, still listening to his mother's heartbeat.
"You are not a bad person, son." His mother took his face and gave him a motherly kiss on the forehead. "I know you'll figure it out…"
She continued to comfort her distressed son, trying to combat the thousand and one shadows starting to form in the air as a result of his guilt. Rarely had she seen her son in such a strange and emotionally honest position.