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Claude
walked slowly down the sidewalk. Rain poured down on his shoulders but on he
walked. Claude the invisible. Claude the Nomad. Claude that cared for no one.
He
watched people scurrying quickly this way and that, umbrellas raised in an
attempt to keep themselves dry. He smirked.
“It’s
just water,” he muttered looking up at the ominous grey clouds. On a whim he
turned and began walking the other direction. He shamelessly pushed some poor
fellow out of his way. What did it matter? They could not see him.
He
rounded the corner and started into the park. It was not central park. It was
quite a bit smaller, but he liked it better for that reason. He started toward
his usual spot when he noticed that his bench was not vacant. Curious who would
possibly come to a park in the middle of a monsoon, he stepped slowly forward.
On
the bench—his bench—was a young boy, possibly a teenager though it was hard to
tell from his scrawny frame. His head rested in his hands, as the dark locks of
hair fell across his face shielding it from Claude’s scrutinizing gaze.
That
were a lot of things that could be said about Claude, but no one would call him
very social, even back when he had a choice in the matter. Still the lack of
any contact with humans was irritating at best. It felt like it had been
forever since he had spoken out loud, forever since someone had smiled at him.
Heck, it seemed like forever since anyone yelled at him or acknowledged him at
all. In reality it had barely been five months, but it was amazing how time
drags on when you are truly alone.
Perhaps
that was why he did it, or maybe it was the fact that the kid looked as alone
as Claude felt. Whatever the reason Claude did something he swore he would not
do. The invisible man became visible.
Almost
as if he had felt the change the kid looked up. He stared right at Claude, but
there was none of the conventional fear that most would have in this situation.
In fact, there was no wariness in this kid’s expression at all. The boy turned
his large eyes up at Claude; those dark orbs were like a mirror straight into
his soul. Claude found himself taken slightly aback. How long had it been since
he’d seen that kind of openness? Perhaps never.
The
currently visible man sat down beside this kid and folded his hands. The boy
was studying him with naïve curiosity.
“I’m
Peter,” he stated simply, brushing away the moisture from his eyes that had
nothing to do with the rain.
“Didn’t
your parents teach you not to talk to strangers?” Claude found himself asking.
What was this Peter thinking talking to him like that? Most people would have
run away by now. This was New York
after all.
“They
tried,” Peter answered, a grin barely raising the edges of his lips.
“Besides…you’re not that strange.” Claude chuckled despite himself.
“How
could you possible know that?”
“I
can tell,” Peter replied brushing away a stray lock of hair. “You’re one of the
good ones.” Claude cocked his head to the side.
“I’m
not so sure about that.”
“I
am,” Peter retorted simply. His eyes turned his eyes up toward the sky. “I love
this kind of weather, it shows the city for how it really is…”
“Dark
and cold,” Claude offered. He watched Peter’s face contort as if he had just
eaten something nasty.
“What
a horrible thing to say,” Peter chided. Claude raised his eyebrow inquiringly
and the boy continued. “I was gona say it shows this city for what it really
is. Rain falls hard and everything seems dark and sinister…but really it’s just
cleansing the city of all the grim. Like…like a fresh start.” The young boy
smiled genuinely.
“So
that’s why you’re out here? Getting a fresh start kid?” Claude questioned. He
watched as the smile faded from Peter’s features. The visible man nodded his
head knowingly. “The way I see it. Everyone is running from something. So what
are you running from, Peter?” When the teenager didn’t answer Claude stood and
began walking. He cast a glance back at Peter. “You comin’ or not?”
Peter
raised his head, his eyebrow raised inquiry, but he followed. Claude could not
help shaky his head, this kid was frighteningly trustful.
“Where
are we going?” The kid finally asked.
“I’m
taking you home,” Claude replied, watching Peter’s expression. The kid’s
expression fell.
“I’m
not going back there,” he replied sadly. Claude shifted his weight from one
foot to the other and whipped the rain from his face with his equally wet
sleeve.
“You’re
dad?” Claude questioned, by the look Peter gave he’d hit the mark. He looked
the kid over again, gauging his answer. “The way I see it, kid,” he began. “You
have two choices. Either you stay out here and become cynical and self
absorbed...like me…or go home and stand a chance at becoming something. Which
will it be cause I don’t care either way, as long as I get out of this rain.” Peter
dropped his head, wet bangs falling in front of his eyes, and kept walking. Claude
followed walking in silence for several minutes, again placing his hand on
Peter’s shoulder to make him invisible also.
Claude
read the street signs carefully, searching for the right one. As soon as it
came into view he stirred Peter in that direction.
Peter
raised his eyes after a while, a question plaguing his mind. He turned to ask
Claude, but something over the man’s shoulder caught his eye instead. They were
walking past a tall office building with tinted windows. Even in the dim light
of the street lamps the windows reflected everything…or at least they normally
did. The kid stared into the window in shock as he realized the only thing
missing was the two of them.
Claude
looked down to find the kid staring up at him with wide eyes.
“Come
on we don’t have all night,” the invisible man insisted, pushing Peter forward.
To his surprise the kid obeyed, walking on in silence instead of asking the
question he obviously was wondering.
“How
do you know where I live?” the kid asked instead. Claude looked down at him
with a slight smirk.
Because you look just like Angela.
Claude thought.
“I was wondering
when you were gona ask that,” the invisible man replied evasively. “We’re here.”
He saw the look on Peter’s face. The kid was not nearly content with the answer
he’d given, but he walked forward toward the door.
Claude watched as
the kid stopped and turned back.
“What’s your
name?”
The sound of a
door opening cut off any possible answer. Claude instantly went invisible as a
familiar woman stepped out onto the step.
“Peter!” The woman
cried in relief and elation. She ran forward and pulled the kid into a tight
embrace. “Where have you been? Are you alright?” Peter nodded to the second
question and turned back to where Claude was standing. His eyes stared right
past the translucent man.
“Where did he go?”
“Who?”
Angela asked in confusion. Peter looked at her questioningly and a light seemed
to dawn in his eyes. He smiled with understanding.
“My
unseen guardian.”
Claude
smirked and began walking off toward whatever vacant apartment that would serve
as ‘home’ that night.
The END
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