Ｔｈｅ Ｆａｌｌ

Part 11| INDIFFERENCE

Day four, and already Matilda was ready to kick the bargeman back out onto the doorstep from whence he came. The problem was not him, it was her. A factor she knew well, despite many efforts to think otherwise, which only made her all the more moody.

Matilda herself had a hard time coming to terms with why exactly she expressed such disdain towards the man. She was not prejudice or pious. So what turn had she taken to bring about this sudden change of demeanor? Was it the propriety? Had she somehow grown tired of being the beacon of hope? Or was it another feeling... A feeling she was failing to recognize. One that could only come from a man, and was only brought about by womanhood.

Her confusion only fed her infuriation, and there was not a day that went by that Matilda's eyes didn't glaze over, her cheeks didn't redden, and her lips didn't pucker. She couldn't find the answers to the inquires she so desperately wished to know. So instead, she stayed stuck in the pit she stood amidst and refused to look for another way out.

"Are you alright?" asked a voice, its proximity slowly advancing. Matilda did not wish for there to be anyone in her vicinity, especially the one of whom the voice belonged. Her time in the parlor of sorts had on too many occasions been interrupted, and with the cowhide coat nearly finished, the only one Matilda wished to talk to was herself.

The newcomer could well do without the contemptible venom he knew would one day spurt forth to sting him. Yet it was only a matter of time before the woman's thoughts would find a voice and become words that could never be taken back.

The receded shade of red once again threatened to wash over Matilda's countenance, whether it was seen, she did not care. The woman sucked in a long, undoubtedly annoyed, sigh. She stiffly looked up from her stitching before acknowledging the far from indecent question of her visitor.

"I am fine." she seethed. Matilda showed no grace and donned no smile. Bain stopped walking towards the corner of the room she was seated in. His face was vacant of any emotion.

"Does my presence offend you?" he asked, ready to leave if she so told him.

"No." Matilda said curtly. "Why do you ask?"

A heavy exhale left Bain's lips and he scoffed softly. The answer was obvious, but unlike Matilda, he was not going to deny its existence. "You think I don't notice your lack of acceptance towards me." he murmured.

Matilda's focus stayed cemented to her work and she refused to look into the eyes of her counterpart. "I never said anything." was her response.

"My point exactly."

At this point Matilda was ready to lash out. To speak the untold words both she and Bain knew had remained unsaid. But the woman was conscious of the ill reflection such would cast upon her father and own self.

She knew very little of the man, and despite her judgments against him, was not knowledgable of the influence he may or may not have held about town. Whispers spread like sparks in a forest when it came to private matters and it would only take one lick of gossip to set off a wildfire. Ensuing in burns Matilda would rather not have to endure or live with.

Unable to find a cordial reply the woman settled on something a bit more blunt. One that was satisfactory to her liking... but not to Bain's. "It's for your own good that I keep my mouth shut."