A Boy and a Girl

The boy looked up to her. “Do I have to?” His wet eyes pleaded with his mother for mercy. His mother. She did not want to be a devil in his eyes, or for him to look at her with shame and embarrassment. But she was, and he did.
They had done this many times before. As far back as the son could remember he was begging his mother not to make him do it. But it was useless, for the outcome of the battle was always the same: neither won, but both were defeated.
The woman paused, it was the same pause she had taken every time those same words had escaped her boy’s mouth. She thought back to when she was looking up to her own mother, asking the same question, and giving her mother the same look that her son was giving her now. On a particularly dehumanizing day, when a man demanded her body in return for food, she made a promise, and for once, it was a promise to herself. She told herself that she would never let her children feel contempt for her, and that she would do whatever it took so that they would be safe from the world where there were no such things as dignity, and self-respect. She made this in the interest of her future children, but deep down, it was selfish, for what she really wanted was to never be in her mother’s position, having to choose between eating that night and forcing them to be the child whom everyone pities, but doesn’t know why. Yet there she was, on that dirty, rusty park bench. The same bench where she and her mother had sat on not so many years ago, for she could still see the scratch marks and doodles she made with sticks in order to pass the time. One of the drawings was of a girl she often watched who would play on the slide every afternoon. She would pretend that one day she would be able to leave the bench and ask her if she could play. But of course, that never happened, and it never would.
She was reminded of where she was in the present when she heard the sounds of her son whimpering before her, eyes wide with devastation and heartbreak. It was the look he had perfected from the years of begging to strangers, it was his very own magic trick. But unlike so many of those strangers who just kept walking, she had to say something now, had to break his heart again. “Yes, you do.”
Now he paused, and waited. . . and waited. She knew it was terrible, but she always liked to see her son wait for her to change her mind, even though she never did. It was the only time she saw the smallest tint of hope in his eyes, and in those moments, she saw that maybe he could still have dreams, like any child should. But then again, she also hated it, because a few seconds later, the hope vanished, replaced with the contempt that she promised her child would never feel for her. He nodded a single nod. And with that seemingly meaningless gesture, he silently told his mother that he understood why. He also told her he was not accepting. . . not at all. His heels turned, scraping the concrete below, and he marched away without saying a word.

Across the park was a teenage girl, Lily, with amber-brown curls cascading down her lace-knit top and makeup covered face. She smiled broadly as she strolled off the ship, filled with American tourists wanting to feel more “cultured” and “aware.” Inside, they all felt warm, safe, taken care of. However, as soon as they walked up the ramp and saw the non-picturesque scene of poor looking natives casting looks of judgment and disgust, they immediately wanted to coil up into what they were used to. They no longer wanted to know.
But Lily, she was too naive to be discouraged, for she was determined to find the light in everything. Little did she know that sometimes there just isn’t any light to be found. 
She was on a river cruise with her family, and today they were in Bulgaria, docked in a small town off the river. As she walked off the ship, map in hand, the curly-haired girl thought of the excitement traveling the world gave her, it was unlike anything else. She never understood the people who didn’t absolutely love travel, to her, it was all she wanted to do. The whole world was out there, ready for her to discover and learn about. Lily knew there was so much for her to see, and many things that she never would. What she didn’t know was that today, she would come to one of the most important realizations of her life, one that for some unknown reason she had to travel thousands of miles to come to, and one that would skew how she would see the world forever.

A few yards away, the boy half-heartedly scanned the area, searching for a prime victim, prime opportunity. He hoped in his heart, just like he always did, that there would be no one in the park. He wished desperately that by some odd miracle, everyone would just stay away, knowing the misery it caused him to beg them. But of course, his world did not consist of miracles, or of wishes coming true, for if they did, he would not be in this situation in the first place. As he continued hunting, he felt like a predator stalking his prey. However, instead of feeling powerful, dangerous, and hungrily excited, he felt victimized, pathetic, humiliated. . . like he was nothing. And in that moment, he saw her: the curly haired girl. She was perfect, for he could tell from her ignorant bliss that she would pity him immensely, and that she would give in to his sad, sad face. He also knew that in just a few minute’s time, he would break her heart, tear it in pieces, and that she would never be the same. Because he saw in her eyes the innocence, saw how ignorant she was to how children like him must survive. She couldn’t even comprehend the idea of surviving, instead of living. His heart ached for her, for she would lose all of that, her belief that the world was a good place.
The mother watched her son slowly walk over to a girl. The boy’s mother could feel the fiery fury build in her gut; the girl was so stupidly happy, so oblivious to the real world around her. The boy’s mother knew without a doubt that the curly haired girl had grown up without any cares or troubles; she lived in a perfect bubble.  The mother wanted to pop that bubble, open the girl’s eyes, and let the shock of what was out there smack her in the face with such force that the air would be knocked out of her. She wanted the girl to feel the pain of watching a poor boy beg for his life, just as the mother had done for so many years.  It would make her feel less like she had failed as a mother. She thought she knew that her son was feeling the same thing, she could see what she thought looked like the same hatred in his eyes. But she was wrong.
Lily walked and talked with her family, living out her last few moments of ignorant bliss. But out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone approaching her, a cute little boy with the most adorable face she had ever seen. She was confused, “why would a boy like that want anything to do with a bunch of American tourists?”

He took the last remaining steps toward her. He saw the confusion on her face that he had expected to see, for she still had no idea what was about to happen. He turned to his mother, saw how she was getting some kind of sadistic pleasure out of the whole event. She nodded to him with approval. She was proud of him for finding just the right person, he had come a long way. The boy’s heart ached even more, for he knew that he would become just like his mother one day, cheering on his children as they pleaded for mercy. As he finally reached the girl, tears had conveniently begun to run down his face. It made the act more believable, made him look more desperate, when really the tears had nothing to do with that at all.

It clicked in Lily’s mind as she studied the boy as a whole. He was in scraggly and torn clothes,faded from overuse. He had no shoes, his feet a shade darker than the rest of his body. She understood now what was happening. His big brown eyes looked up to her as they began to gloss over, and tears pooled down his cheeks. His hands were out in front, the only means of communication he had to tell her that he was poor, that he needed her charity. Lily turned to her mother, who seemed oddly unphased. “Sorry Lily I don’t have any small bills,” she said casually to her daughter, and just kept walking. Lily tried to keep up with her mother, but her legs felt weak. The boy kept following her, tapping her arm whenever she tried to look away, for she couldn’t bare to look at him any longer.

He kept pace with her and her family as he saw the realization of what was happening in that moment slowly form on her face. He went through the motions that his mother had practiced with him so many times: keep walking with them if they walk away, don’t give up. Cry if you have to, make them pity you so much that they can’t say no. Tap their arms, get their attention, pester them until they reach for their back pocket. She kept looking away, pulling down her sunglasses to mask the tears that were so obviously running down her face. It made the boy cry harder. He felt like he was killing her.

She couldn’t take it anymore. Sobbs began escaping her lips involuntarily and tears spewed out of her eyes like never before. She couldn’t control herself, she had never felt like this before in her life. There was a deep, physical pain in her chest and she felt like she couldn’t breath. “Oh my god, get me away from him Mom,” she said in between the sobs. She had to get away from the boy, had to breath again. Her mother turned to her and saw the pain in her eyes and took her by the arm as she rushed her away from the boy.

He saw her mother take her by the arm after she had spoken a few incomprehensible words. The now corrupted girl took one last look at him. He took one last look at her.
In that moment, they both silently pleaded each other for forgiveness. 

When Lily and her family had ridden themselves of the boy, Lily threw herself at her mother, desperately needing some kind of comfort. Her mother wrapped her arms around her, understanding her pain, for she had experienced the same thing when she was younger. She had had her bubble bursted just as her daughter had just then.  “Why is she crying?” Lily’s father asked angrily. Lily turned to her father, confused why he would be angry. “Don’t you understand he was just trying to scam you?” 

The boy walked over to his  mother, emotionally worn out by what he had just committed; he never wanted to do that again. His mother looked at him, and he could see that she was masking her disappointment. “It’s okay son, you tried your best. Go try again, maybe you’ll find someone who actually cares, unlike that spoiled girl.” The boy then realized he would never wait those few extra minutes, hoping his mother would change his mind. He understood now that this was his life, and it always would be.

Lily was still crying in her mother’s arms, still hurting from what had just happened. She knew that in that moment, she was a changed person, and she would never be the same.

“Wasn’t there something, anything I could do?!” she asked her mom, still holding on to her last thread of hope that there was some magic spell that would save all the boys and girls in the world from having to beg on the streets.

"No, this is the world honey. It’s just how it is, how it always has been, and how it always will be."

She nodded a single nod. And in that seemingly meaningless gesture, she silently told her mother that she understood why. She also told her she was not accepting. . . not at all. Her heals turned, scraping the concrete below, and she marched away without saying a word.