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Hands

By: Lee Thomas Penn

-Son of-

Thomas Lee Penn

            The man folded his arms and placed his hands protectively into his armpits.

            “Two days ago, I saw a little boy riding his little bike in the street. It was a heavy-looking bike, and the kid had to really pump hard on the pedals to go anywhere. He looked so cute. You know – miniature, innocent. And, I was so alone that day… That’s why I had left the house to walk around. I needed to escape, get out in the fresh air, maybe stop my racing thoughts for a little bit. I thought it was pretty nice to see this little boy working his little heart out to pump those pedals at a time when I felt so isolated. I wished that I could hug the boy, that he would laugh for me and smile because I could make him happy. Ha – I didn’t even know this boy’s name, and here I was thinking that maybe his parents wouldn’t mind if I bought him ice cream or something.

            “And that’s when the poor little lamb fell over. His bike just tipped and fell over his right leg. He started crying, crying tears of misery and sadness because he was hurt – probably scraped up – and no one was around to help him. I wanted to help this boy, to pick him up onto his feet and tell him not to cry anymore because I was there to help him. The world didn’t have to be so alone and fend-for-yourself anymore. And he would thank me and hug me once and maybe cry a little bit on my shoulder. I wanted to kiss my hand and touch it to his boo-boo like I’ve seen fathers do on television. But then I looked at my hands and saw my cuts and scabs and scars. These damn cuts!”

Here, he stared at his hands and shook them in sad frustration.

“So I walked up to him, gulping air between his sobs, and knelt down next to him and said, ‘It’s okay, it’s okay. I know what it feels like to be hurt and alone. But, I’m here now.’ And I was hugging myself, really wishing that this little boy were hugging me. And I tried to smile, but I guess it looked pained because the boy seemed to notice me and looked scared. Like I was some kind of monster, a sick monster who nobody loves!”

He grimaced as he clenched his hands.

“But at least he stopped crying. Instead, he was staring at me with this look of fascinated horror on his face. ‘I used to be like you,’ I said. That’s when I heard a woman’s voice calling, ‘Stevie! Stevie!’ And the little boy started calling out ‘Mommy!’ Then a woman emerged from one of the fenced-in yards. Her smile was warm – a comforting strength for her little boy – but her face tensed when she saw me. ‘What happened here?’ she asked. And then I got really scared.” Here, he began to hug himself more tightly. “I was afraid that she would start yelling at me, telling me to move away from this precious little boy. I didn’t know what to think, what to say. So, I said, ‘I wanted to know if he wanted some ice cream,’ and I started to back away from the little boy. The woman smiled politely, but I knew she was thinking that I was a freak – a freak. A disgusting nobody who nobody loves and who nobody will give a chance to love! That’s what I am! Oh, fuck!”

The other man stared at him with a very sad smile and eyes that spoke, “I feel that I truly understand you, and so I feel with you, you poor exile, you tragic little boy who has no one in the world to love him and pick him up when he’s hurting and who never had the chance to develop the means of obtaining love.” He passed him a tissue box.

Crying, he took one of his hands out from an armpit and wiped at his eyes with a tissue. “I saw the woman…” he said, between sobs, “cradling her… her child… and I kept wishing… wishing…”

“…Wishing that child could be you,” finished the other man.

He started crying in full abandon. The sobs were reverberations of years of anguish and pain, of trapped thoughts that never felt safe before to leave their mental prison. He cried into his hand with the cuts and the tissue and said, “I just want… someone to… to hold me. I just… want… someone to love me! No one! My parents… friends… no one has ever loved me! Oh, God!” And he continued to sob.

“You feel undeserving of love,” said the other man, looking him straight in the eye. “But, you do deserve it. You do.” He waited some time for the full intensity of the crying to subside. “I’m really glad that you came today. You shouldn’t have to bear all of this pain alone.”

He stared gratefully at the other man and smiled a quivering smile. Then, he started crying once again. But now, along with the anguish and pain, was a slight sense of relief. He felt a warm hand descend upon his shoulder and – thank God – stay there, and that was all that needed to be said.