The faceless man
The streets are a frightening place when you are small. But they're even more frightening when apart from being small, you're also alone. There is so much noise and so many people. I see the huge buildings that disappear between the clouds and a sea of grey coats. People pass me by, pushing and me and stepping over me. They shield their heads with black umbrellas that look like giant bats. The world seems so big from down here. But I prefer to be here and not at home. I don't walk too far. Just to the corner where the toy store is. I like this place even though I have never been inside. I stop near the entrance, where I don't bother anyone and where the rain doesn't hit so hard. I step closer to the window. There are so many toys…in all colors and sizes. The music can be heard from outside. I see other kids going in with their moms. I'm alone. But I would like to see. I want to see what else is inside. If only just for once.
I carefully push the glass door open so I can step inside. It's not cold in here. I stop. There are so, so many toys. Cars and balls, books and plushies. There are even candies and chocolate bars next to the exit.
I walk slowly through the corridors, looking at everything around me. I stop in front of the shelves where the plush toys are. There are bears and rabbits and other animals I don't know. I like the rabbits, they have large ears. They look so soft, but I don't dare to touch anything. I only look.
I've always wanted a toy, just one. If I could choose one, it would be a plushie. I don't even need a big one. It could be small, like me.
The shelves are so high. They almost reach the ceiling. I look up. And way up there, between the stuffed animals I see a different kind of plushie. It's not an animal. I step closer and stand on my tip toes. It's a clown! He has green hair and a red suit. I reach out to hold it in my hands. The mouth is painted red and he smiles at me. I run my fingers through his hair. It's soft. And it's not too big. It actually fits perfectly in my arms.
Suddenly someone pulls at my sweater.
- Where were you?
It's mom.
- Put that back! You know I have no money.
I put he toy back on the shelf. Mom takes my hand and drags me towards the exit. I try to fight it. I want to stay here.
- Let's go! - says mom angrily.
She grabs my arm and pulls me away. She scares me and it hurts. I don't want to go back home. I don't want to. I don't like it when he is there. I'm scared and I start to cry.
- Stop crying and let's go home!
The lady at the register has seen everything. She walks over to us and puts a hand on my shoulder. I look up. She holds the clown I was looking at a moment ago. I'm scared. I'm sure she will scold me for touching it without her permission.
- Why are you crying, sweetheart?
I don't manage to say anything. But she looks at me with a kind face.
- Do you like this one?- she asks.
I nod.
- You want to take it home with you?
- Mhm.
- I don't have money to buy anything, madam. Let's go, Arthur!
- Don't worry about it.- the woman says to her and she crouches down so she's at my height. She wipes my tears away and smiles at me.
- Your name is Arthur?
- Yes, madam.
- If I give you Mr. Clown, do you promise not to cry?
- Mhm.
The woman hands me the toy and I hug it to my chest.
- He's all yours.- she says and her hand brushes softly over my hair. - Now go home with your mom, ok? -
Mom takes my hand again and pulls me towards the door. I turn around once more to look at the lady.
- Thank you…- I whisper.
That night I fall asleep with a smile. I feel like the luckiest kid in the world. I finally have a friend.
Sometimes the memories are very clear, like now. They appear suddenly, without me trying to invoke them. I remembered my clown toy, but I didn't remember how it got to me. I always assumed it was Penny who gave it to me. I see now that it wasn't like that. But not all memories are as clear. Often it's only fragments, small pieces without any context. I try to reconstruct my memory but it's like trying to build a puzzle that's missing too many pieces.
Of all the things I can't fully reconstruct, the is one that keeps me awake even when I try with all my strength to stop thinking. There is one things that haunts and tortures me. It's the face of that man. The face of that demon my mom used to bring home is something that has been erased from my mind completely. When I try to remember the moments I used to hide from him, I can hear him yelling, I can feel his footsteps and I see his shoes. But when I look up I can't see his face. His features remain hidden behind a kind of fog and no matter how hard I try, I can't match a face to the voice that keeps haunting me more than twenty years later.
