An Illegal Tourist
My name is Harry and I just turned 18.
Born in the Smocky Mountain Children’s Home, an orphanage in Tennessee, I have known no mother, father, home or family.
I know I was abused. In the orphanage, two 15 years old boys daily abused me ever since I was 5. They occurred every night, at the same hour, with the same guns and made me do the same things: blow their cocks under the loud sound of the gun before fitting these organs into my tight butthole. One day, I’ve had enough of this hell and decided to run away. I was 14.
Some weeks later, I met a nice man. He was selfless, he said he would help me. By the look on his face, I knew that he was sincere. It looked like he loved me and I quickly understood why. He began to abuse me too and forced himself in me. After that, he said « from now on, you’ll do this to every customer that comes here. You’re my bitch now. » That’s what I did for one whole year.
A year later, I decided to escape again. At the border, I ran into a cargo and fell asleep.
When I woke up, I was in a foreign city. I tried to speak to anyone I found, but nobody spoke English. Everyone avoided me, they looked at me like I was an alien !
I was starving, I didn’t eat for weeks. Fortunately for me, this city had public water fountains. Aside this, I was an immigrant. In a country I didn’t know. All alone. And hungry.
I stopped in front of the first market I saw. People could come and go as they wanted. The cashiers looked nice. I went in and spoke to the cashier. I explained that I was from Tennessee in America and asked where I was. The cashier only said « ok » and kept on working as she was completely ignoring me.
I went outside, sat at the entrance and checked what I had brought. Nothingness was my best friend. I stayed that way hoping and crying.
The cold days quickly came. During those, I tried to go inside the store to warm up but men in uniforms always came to hit me and drag me outside. I did not understand a word !
I stayed that way for 3 years, until one summer day. I felt well for once. So, I decided to take my shot again and ask someone in the store for help. There, I met a young cashier with brunet hair tied in a bun. She tried to understand me but called her coworker for help : a short, brown-haired woman with blue glasses and brown eyes. The girl called her Carly.
Carly was a shining and kind-hearted woman. She explained to me that we were in France, in a city called Castres. It was a city in the south with the closest big city being Toulouse, at around an hour of road. She listened to me and showed compassion to my story. I kind of felt ashamed to tell her all this ! Despite this, Carly took me into her arms, not without asking if I needed a hug first. This woman was a big hugger, and the best of them all !
Carly desired to help me. For real ! She bought me food, water, some clothes. She even allowed me to stay at her apartment for a while !
Her job at the store kept her very busy. Meanwhile, she always managed to help me. Thanks to her, I found a little job as an Uber deliver. It wasn’t much, but it helped me gain some cash. What I loved most about it, was that I could get some deliveries from the store and see Carly.
One night, we began to talk about our families. I told her I had none, obviously so she had an idea : post a message on Facebook about an orphan who was looking for his family. She added all my information as well as some pictures of me. She said to me « That way, a family who had lost their son can find him via Facebook. However, anyone can find you and know you are in France. Even the orphanage. Is it still okay for you ?
- Yes ! I replied. I want to know who my mother and father are.
- Very well then. There, posted ! »
After that, we stayed there talking some more. I felt something beating in my chest. As well as a heat in my intimate parts. I leaned in Carly’s arms and cuddled her. My head was lying on her breasts and I heard her breathing. I leaned closer and touched them. Slowly but confidently, Carly took my hand away from her skin. I turned to her and asked if she wanted to sleep with me.
I said she did so much for me and it was the least I could do in return.
« I didn’t help you to sleep with you. She said. I helped you because you were helpless and it’s just the way I am. I’ll do everything in my power to help out someone who feels alone. »
I turned away from her, and she added :
« Plus, you are an 18 years old boy and I’m a 25 years old woman. Even though you are considered legal aged in France, you are still a child. And I won’t take advantage of a child. I love children too much to use them. »
I laid my eyes on Carly. I could have felt angry, or deceived, or frustrated. But I didn’t. Instead, I felt blessed and I’m still figuring out why. Why do some men get angry when she tells them no ? Why did the first man I met forced me when I said no ? But why did I felt blessed, and not hurt when Carly refused sex to me ? I told her I was sorry and she just smiled and explained that she wasn’t mad at all. That I just have no idea what is healthy intimacy. And it wasn’t her job to show me.
A year later, I was delivering an Uber from Carly’s store when she stopped and showed me a blonde-haired guy. « He says he is named Connie Miles. She explained. And he wants to meet you.
- Meet me ? Why would he want to meet me ? I asked her.
- I don’t know, he didn’t explained himself.
- Well, I can’t stay long, I got a delivery. I said. Tell him to come back and wait for me next to the fountain at 6 :15 o’clock. I finish at 6pm today.
- Lucky you, I finish at 8 ! Carly smiled. Anyways, go get your delivery and I’ll give up your message to Connie.
- Thank you, I love you. » I whispered to myself as I took the bag and left. I joined the entrance of the store at 6 :16pm. I could see the blonde stranger at a couple of miles away but he hesitated to come.
Was he scared ? Or just regretting to ask to meet me ?
He finally approached and I stood up at his height. I said my name was Harry, I was 18, and an Uber deliver. « I know who you are. He claimed. I mean… I saw the Facebook post and… well… let me show you something. » Then, Connie pulled out a picture and gave it to me. He explained that the guy on it was 18 years old when it was taken. It was a young man with dark raven hair, hazelnut eyes and a handsome smile. « This is my father when he was my age. Connie said. His name is Elvis. » I gave him a puzzled look.
Was he trying to brag about having a dad in front of me ? Dumb Bitch ! « What does you dad has to do with you here ?
- When I saw the picture of you on Facebook, well… I though you looked pretty like my father so…
- You came here to tell me that I look like the father of a random blonde dude ? I asked.
- Don’t be offended, it’s true ! He cried. I mean, you’re his copy-cat !
- And what makes you think that man is my dad ? I began to yell as I felt my body trembling from the nerves.
- Ok listen. When I was a kid, my dad regularly took me to the back of our garden. There, he had laid a gravestone for a certain « Harold ». I never knew who that boy was, but when I asked my dad, he just said it was my brother. All I know is that I was supposed to have a brother but something happened to him and I grew up a lonely child.
- So, you’re saying that perhaps I am ?
- I think you are that brother I never had. »
There was a silence between us. When I looked at Connie, he was so serious that I though he will end up calling me « brother ». He broke the silence to ask me what I thought about this. I said there was something missing to his tale. A proof that it wasn’t just a tale.
« Heeey ! Harry ! You stayed here and waited for me ? »
I heard behind me. It was Carly, running to me after work. I looked down at my watch and saw 8pm. « Wow ! It’s 8 o’clock already ? » I cried out. Carly said goodbye to her co-workers than turned to us. She asked Connie why he wanted to meet me and he replied that he and I could be brothers. Carly was all confused.
« You might wanna repeat that for me please ?
- It’s a pretty long story. I said. We better go home.
- Of course ! Follow me… Connie, am I right ?
- Right. » The blonde boy smiled.
We all went to Carly’s apartment and the Blonde dude explained everything to her. She looked really happy I found a brother, but I still needed my proof. « Can you call your dad ? I asked Connie.
- Yeah, and you can meet him that way. He’s your dad too !
- Only if you truly are my brother. I concluded. » Connie decided to FaceTime his dad, in the United States.
The man’s hair and eyes didn’t change a bit from the picture. Only his skin was wrinkled and he looked tired. Happy to hear from his son, but tired. Connie put the phone in front of me and introduced me to the man. « Hello Harry ! » He smiled. I said « hi » too, but more quietly. He then tried to reassure me, said I was a handsome young man, that it was fine if I don’t trust him right away. « So, you were supposed to have a son, right ? I mean, a son like me.
- Yes. He said. 18 years ago, when my ex-wife was pregnant, several exams led to one conclusion that we would have twins. Unfortunately, when she went into labor, one brother came out and she told her family the other one died.
- If he died, then why … ?
- I have no proof that he actually died. Explained Connie’s dad. No body was ever found ! Plus, my heart always told me my boy was alive. I never resigned to his death.”
Tears were coming down his face, as he looked right into my eyes.
“Okay, maybe you are my dad. I whispered with a slight hope. Is there a way I can meet her too ?
- Who do you want to meet, Harry ? Asked Elvis.
- You ex. I mean, my mom ! I cried out.
- Yeah, that won’t be possible. Said Connie with a grin. She died in jail.
-Oh. Well, what was she like ?
- Abusive… insisted the blonde dude.
-What ?
- And alcoholic, and violent, and unloving, uncaring,…
- Alright ! I get it ! Stop ! I screamed while covering my ears.
- Abusive ? Carly broke into the conversation. But Harry spent his entire life trying to escape abuse ! »
I felt her hand laying on my shoulder. She asked me if I was sure of this, and said she didn’t mind if I stayed longer.
« You can build your own life, here in France. » She smiled in front of Connie’s saddened face. Lying my hand on hers, sliding my fingers between hers, I thanked her and told her that I wanted to meet my family and be with them. I promised her that when I’ll be older and wealthier, I’ll come back to France to see her again. I never told her, but I always loved her.
Mr. Miles smiled and explained that he just booked a flight to France for the next day. Carly told him to meet us in Toulouse, in the South.
Despite being exhausted from the day, I was struggling to sleep. I can’t deny the snoring elephant though. He was sleeping next to me down on the « clique-claque ». But he wasn’t the only one troubling my sleep. I was too excited to meet my father the next day.
