Side story - Imre

1981

The day Imre learned what life was truly about occurred on a day like any other.

It was recess and he was sitting with a group of his friends, talking about an episode of their favourite tv show. He didn’t like television but he smiled and nodded, a practice he found worked for his mother.

A secondary group of boys were playing on the grass, wrestling. His attention was occasionally drawn to the shouts from them. A boy named Adam was the biggest one of them, he towered over everyone in the grade.

Adam was mean, he pulled girls’ hair and punched boys randomly in the arm, hard enough to bruise. He never got in trouble. Imre didn’t think of him much since he left him alone.

Until that day.

As Adam threw a small boy down hard on the grass, Imre’s and his eyes locked. Imre looked away but it was too late. He saw from the corner of his eye as the other boy’s huge figure stomped towards him.

Imre’s friends grew quiet when they noticed Adam making a beeline for Imre. The bigger boy stopped right next to him and Imre noticed with disgust how dirty his white shoes were before looking up.

“Why are you looking at me?” Adam asked.

Imre blinked and smiled the kindest he could, “I wasn’t.”

Adam kicked Imre in the leg and the smaller boy winced. “Are you calling me a liar?”

Imre rubbed his leg and tried to stand up, a good and amicable answer already forming on his lips. “I’m not say—”

Adam raised his fist and punched Imre in the chest. The boy went down, the wind knocked out of him and the spot where Adam’s fist hit him burst into red hot pain.

Adam laughed and Imre could see from his watery eyes how big the boy was, how he seemed ten feet tall standing over him. “Stupid!” he called him and left.

Imre was sent to the nurse’s office and then sent home, but not before his parents were called. He wiped his eyes all the way home in the back of the limo.

When he got home his mother received him. She bent down and hugged his small body tightly her chest, murmuring reassurance as he cried into her shoulder. When his father came home he found his wife and son sitting at the dining room table, she was pressing ice to his chest.

“Leave us,” he commanded.

Imre’s mother glared at the man, “he’s hurt. He doesn’t need any scoldings from you.”

“He’s my son, I get to decide what he needs. Leave us now.”

Imre looked down at his shoes when he heard his father coming closer. He heard his mother yell as she was yanked from her seat. He didn’t look up as her screams went further into the house and up the stairs.

His father came and sat opposite him. He grabbed the fallen ice bag and pressed it to Imre’s chest. With his other hand he grabbed the boy's face and forced him to look into his eyes. Blue on brown.

“Did you start the fight, Imre?”

Imre shook his head, which was hard as it was held in his father’s huge and strong hand. “Use your words.”

“No, Dad.”

The mayor’s gaze was unblinking and penetrating. Imre always felt that when he looked at him he could read his thoughts.

“Then why did he hit you?”

Imre’s jaw was beginning to ache. “I don’t know.”

The man used one of his rough fingers to wipe away his son’s tears. “Stop crying, you know that crying helps nothing.”

Imre sniffed and wiped his eyes as best he could. “You know why he hit you, tell me the truth.”

His father’s fingers were digging into his cheeks. The boy wanted to tell him to let him go but he knew he wouldn’t. He answered, “because he wanted to.”

“And why did he want to?”

Imre sniffed again. The ice bag was making him shiver now. “Because I’m small. He hits boys that are small.”

His father nodded, a strange glimmer in his eyes. “Do you know what small is?”

He knew but his dad always said the opposite of what Imre was thinking so he said that he didn’t. “It means little. Little means weak. Weak means nothing. He saw you as nothing and he is something and so he could hit you,”he explained coldly.

Imre’s lip quivered but he didn’t let any more tears escape. “Some people, son are born little and remain little all their life even as they grow. Those people are worthless, they’re naive and easy to hit because they never decided to be something.”

“Do you want to be something? Do you want boys like Adam to never hit you again?”

Imre’s eyes flickered. “Yes.”

The glimmer in his father’s eyes grew and he let go of his son’s face. “Good. He won’t ever hit you again. You will hit him but not with your fists. With this,” he pointed to his son’s forehead and told him what he needed to do.

…..

It was spelling bee day. The teacher would select two students to come up in front of the class and whoever spelled the word correctly would win a chocolate bar.

Adam was set to go up against the small boy he had pushed down the other day when Imre had been watching them. Imre had talked to the boy, he asked him to pretend that he had a sore throat, that he would help him to get back at Adam. Alphabetically the next student in line to do the spelling bee was Imre.

The class watched in rapt attention as the two boys stood up in front of the class as the teacher told them to spell ‘Milieu.’

Adam looked frightened as he saw the little timer count down from ten. He looked frozen in fear as he stammered, “M-I-L-L-U.”

“Wrong, Imre?”

He quickly answered, “M-I-L-I-E-U, Milieu.”

“Correct!”

The kids seated at their desks clapped as the teacher handed Imre the chocolate bar. Imre smiled and cleared his throat as Adam’s face began to turn red.

“He’s stupid!” someone randomly yelled out, as Imre had planned.

“Adam’s stupid!”

“Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” the chant began to spread throughout the class. Adam bit his lip as his eyes frantically looked around him.

“Everyone settle down!” the teacher said.

“He’s so stupid!”

Imre watched as Adam squirmed, eyes trying to find salvation in something. But nothing came to rescue him.

Imre unwrapped the chocolate bar and broke off a piece. He offered it to the embarrassed boy. Adam looked at Imre like he had just thrown him a pool floatie.

He took it and shoved it into his mouth. Imre shook his head at his classmates and they all grew quiet. Adam looked at Imre, uncertain. Imre smiled sweetly. Adam smiled back, relieved, his teeth smeared with chocolate.

Adam wasn’t so tall after all. Actually, he was rather small.