Aspen
"I heard she was learning to become a nun," I heard someone say. Whoever said it wasn't trying to be discreet, I could hear them perfectly as I sat feet away from them.
It was a lie but she didn't know that. And it was also a sin to assume what I was doing in a convent for twelve years. Yet I didn't say anything to her, resisting the urge to turn around.
It was true that I did go to a religious school and it was also true that most of the girls there were destined to become nuns. But I, even though my teachers wanted me to, I didn't wish to spend the rest of my life serving God. I mean no disrespect to the almighty, but I just couldn't see myself wasting away my years doing something I didn't enjoy.
Even after twelve years in a rigorous school, I just never fell to love it. I respect it, I did keep values close to my heart. But it was just too dull, boring. And I wanted more than just walking from church to church and praying.
"I bet she doesn't even know how a penis looks like," they giggled, drawing me back to the conversation. I felt my cheeks turn red, that was true.
In fact it was so true, that the only men I had encountered my whole life was my dad. May he rest in peace. The priest that presided over mass at school and well that was all. Well that was until a few months ago.
I mean it was a Catholic School, the nuns weren't exactly eager to teach anyone the male parts. In fact they had shielded us from almost all of society. All their sins, they would hiss at us when we asked about why we didn't have a tv.
Thinking back, I understood their protectiveness. The world was cruel. But a tv? We were little girls, we just wanted to see the cartoons we heard about when we would go out of the premises of the school. Which was rare. We were allowed to leave, only if our parents allowed us to. And if they took us out, which again they didn't. It was almost as if those who were sent to that school weren't wished. We were just sent off, seen once or twice a year.
I myself had barely seen my parents growing up. Had seen them only for important dates and a few get alongs. But that was it.
In total I saw my dad 22 times before he died. My mother I saw her 40 times before she officially withdrew me from school when she told me about her sickness.
I was shocked to say the least when she came to my school and took me. She was fragile, skinny and her brown eyes were empty. Nothing like the woman that had visited me months before, with lush black hair and full cheeks. I was even more shocked when she introduced me to her husband.
My now guardian until I turned 18.
I heard the teacher shut everyone up, her blue eyes on me as she took a seat up front. It had been like that since I enrolled in this high school, teachers would look at me before starting school. Weighing me out to see if I was comfortable enough. Which I was slowly easing to be.
All honesty I hated this school, if only because of the people that interrupted class every second. If they had done that back with the nuns, they would have spent their weekends scrubbing the windows. But apart from that, I was fine with this school.
From the constant chatter of people, to the looks I got. I knew it was normal, after all I was the new girl. The girl that was enrolled six months before graduation.
With a heavy sigh, I watched the clock. Waiting ever so patiently for the bell to ring.
I was so eager to go home and watch a marathon of show's. Even though the nuns were right, the TV was the works of the devil. Yet I watched it, it made me feel rebellious. But there was only so much I could stand to see, the shows on tv were filled with vulgar language and sexual tension. They showed lies, truths and misinformation. All of it which I was still getting used to.
After all it was hard to adjust to society, to hear kids curse around me freely. Getting used to hearing sexual innuendos, still learning what they all meant.
I heard the bell ring, the dismissing bell. The clock began ticking, counting down the time I had for me to get to the next class. This school, the whole system was strange. Kids listened to the bell, they kept a schedule of what to do.
Back at the parochial school, we wouldn't leave the classrooms. The teachers would come to us, and if you finished something early. You had the chance to get a jump start on another subject, the reason why so many of us were ahead of the school curriculum.
I gathered my notebooks and pencils, stuffing it all into my backpack. Weaving my way around students, ignoring their chatter and stares. Having only one object, my last class.
I arrived before the teacher did, waiting near the wall for her. My eyes taking in the amount of skin girls showed. I was stunned, one week of this school and I was still getting used to seeing the short skirts. Seeing tight fitted dresses, tops that left little to the imagination.
Opposed to them, I wore something that hid my figure. Not because I was uncomfortable with the way I looked, but because twelve years of wearing long skirts and button up shirts stuck to me. It had been our basic uniform, to make us look the same. And I knew I could wear anything I wished, I was no longer under the constant observation of the nuns.
Yet, I was still feeling doubtful of showing more skin than just my hands or face.
As for the boys, it was the same. Shorts or pants. Long sleeved or short sleeved. Baggy clothes or not. I guess from my point, some boys looked fine. They looked put together, but I knew they were still childish. Their words, their actions told a lot of who they were.
I wasn't particularly keen on any of them. I mean who was I to say who looked the best when I had barely had any encounter with the opposite gender. But to me, the third man I had seen my entire life was the most striking of them all. I could be wrong, maybe he wasn't the third man. But he was the third man I remembered seeing.
Christian Keaton, third man I encountered and second man I spoke to who spoke back to me. He was as I said, my guardian and someone I had fallen to be comfortable with. Maybe it was because he was nice because the moment we met he regarded me with care. He offered me a room in his house, gave me space and respect. Didn't ask me too much, didn't see me as something weird. I guess that's why I knew that these boys could not compare to him.
The last hour and a half passed by in a flash. And I couldn't move quick enough to gather my stuff, to leave the building. And even as I tried dodging people, I was still not moving fast enough. Kids were walking slowly, going either to the bus stop, their cars or their extra curricular activities. I hadn't signed up for extracurricular activities, didn't want to spend any more time in a school than I had to. Thought I should have, maybe that way I could meet more people. Be more social.
Managing to make my way outside, I cut through the grass and onto the sidewalk. Making my way to the edge of school's ground, a familiar black car pulled up next to me just as I stopped.
The window rolled down to reveal Christian, my guardian. No he wasn't my stepfather even if he was married to my mother. It was actually murky, their relationship. I didn't understand it, didn't know why he had married her knowing she was going to die. Don't get me wrong, my mother was beautiful, but it was just how?
The day I met Chris was not the best day. One I found out my mother was dying, two I was told she was married and three I was hypnotized by him.
This man, yes man because he was a man, was gorgeous. Tall with a lean body. Darkish brown hair that was always in a mess. Grey eyes that didn't betray an emotion. Or did, because the more time I spent with him, the more I got to understand him. The more easily he became to read.
Opening the door, I slid in the passenger seat. My eyes flickering to his, his voice a deep grumble as he asked about my day.
"It was good." Was all I could say, he didn't need to know that I hated it here. Didn't need to know what the kids said about me. He had already done so much to make sure I was comfortable and fine with my surroundings. I could handle a few comments.
Looking out the tinted window, my eyes glazed over the stream of bodies. I took notice of the groups of friends, my heart clenching at the sight. I had friends, but they were still in the parochial school and hundreds of thousands of miles away. My eyes stung as kids laughed and smiled. Couples that held hands together, bodies close to each other.
Pang of loneliness hit me as they brushed their lips together.
I shouldn't feel like this after all I had spent years in a school with no boys. Yet it made me feel empty, yearning for that relationship. To feel the brush of lips against mine, to see what all the fuss was about.
As they had been here, exposed to everything. I had been shielded from all of it. And I wondered if someday someone would kiss me, if they were willing to slide my inexperience.
I wanted to be like them, wanted to be a real girl. Not the girl the patriarch thought us to be, but the girl I would have been if my parents hadn't sent me off like they didn't want me.
"Chris?" I asked turning in my seat, his eyes flickering to me to continue. "Do you think you could teach me to drive?"
It was a step. Small but great. I was nearing 18 and I knew that a teenager learned to drive early on. And if I wanted to adjust to society, I needed to be able to drive places. Not having to wait for Chris to take me.
"Of course," he said without hesitation as we arrived at his house.
There were a few things I was grateful for. One that Chris didn't outright treat me like a porcelain doll, he knew about who I was. What I was supposed to have been, he respected that. Respected my beliefs and thinking. Helped me become more accommodated with society, slowly.
The next thing I was grateful for was his house. It sounded materialistic, but I really was thankful to have a roof over my head. After my dad's death I knew I would be taken care off until my last year at the patriarch school. And that after I left, I'd have access to my trust fund. But you see, after he died. My mother sold the house, sold everything and moved into an apartment. Where she lived until she married Chris almost a year ago.
So I guess I was thankful for Chris and his generosity. His acceptance and care. Though I knew I shouldn't think about it, I still did. It was too much for myself, the house was big to house at least six people. And I had a whole room to myself with an attached bathroom and a walk-in closet.
I never had that much room for myself. I was thought to be humble of what I had, of the small aspects of life. I could have easily settled in a small room with a bed, after all that was all I needed.
But Chris wouldn't have it, he was responsible for me. He promised my mother he would watch me and take care of me. And after all he was a good doctor, he made a good income. So what was it to him to give me a room, clothes and food. To let me live there until I decided to do what I wanted to do. Which still I didn't know.
▪︎▪︎▪︎
It wasn't that I wasn't sleepy, I was. But I was also thirsty. Padding downstairs, it was a little past ten and I knew Chris was still downstairs. Now I didn't know he was shirtless, if I had I wouldn't have come.
I knew it was his house, his rules, his life. But ever since I moved in six months ago, he has been careful not to expose himself. He knew I was naive when it came to the opposite gender, knew the lack of contact I had with them.
So he'd be fully clothed around me, until now. Was it normal? To feel heat spreading across your body? To feel embarrassed at the sight of a shirtless man? I could feel my cheeks heat up, my eyes dropping down to the floor.
I couldn't turn fast enough as I dashed into my room. Breathing heavily as I leaned on my door. "Sinful," I hissed to myself.
I didn't mean to see him like that. But I did. And the image of it was engraved in my mind. Closing my eyes I could see the lines and curves, the slab of muscles that were hidden underneath his shirts. I swallowed, but I knew what I felt was not supposed to be. I shouldn't be feeling curious about him, about how his skin would feel underneath my fingers.
Crawling into my bed, I fell asleep. Dreaming of those arms, that chest, those lines. I dreamt I was up close to them, feeling them under my cheek. Warm and hard. Feeling his hand on the small of my back as he held me.
It was a strange reaction, a strange dream. "Foolish girl," I murmured to myself as I braided my hair the next morning. Yes, the day I met him I was hypnotized by him, maybe even harvested a small crush on him. But what did it matter?
He was a man. And I was a girl. A very foolish girl that didn't know exactly happened in my mind. Or what the hell was wrong with this society.
Have a good day!