Page 366 of Phobia
It certainly was. I knew too much. I knew what it was like to have an abusive drunk as a father. I knew what it was like to be labeledweirdby my peers. I knew what it was like to watch my mother cry when she did chores because of how much more bruised her heart was than her skin. I wanted tonot knowfor once in my life.
“What are you doing here?” I knew why I had come, but I still didn’t know why Bastien was shooting the breeze in a graveyard alone.
“Waitin’ on my friends.” The seriousness of his response threw me off.
“Your friends are coming here? Now?” It seemed like an odd place to host a get-together.
He brushed my question off. “They’re an eccentric bunch.”
I didn’t think being around a group of strange men alone at night was a great idea, so I decided that this was my cue to leave. One strange man was enough for the evening.
I rose to my feet and attempted to dust off the dried mud that was caked all over my nightgown. “Well, I think I’ll head back. You take care.”
“Scared already?” The humor had returned to his voice, and it was almost enough to make me change my mind about leaving. I liked this side of him.
“Me? No.”
He laughed. “It’s okay, songbird. Pretty little thing like yeh shouldn’t be out here so late. Go on. Get home safe.”
My cheeks heated at the word “pretty,” and I was betting that he could see my fair skin flushing red even in the dark.
“Good night,” was all I could mutter.
He offered me a tip of his hat. “Good night, little songbird. Sleep tight.”
I scurried away, mixed emotions swirling in my head.
Chapter 2
I had spent the entire day thinking of my new acquaintance, Bastien. Our meeting replayed in a loop in my mind, and each time, I remembered a new detail like the silver of the buttons on his jacket sleeve glimmering whenever his hand brought his cigar up for a puff, or the way the orange feathers hung out of the side of his top hat. I was obsessed with every second of the interaction.
I wondered if his friends had ever shown up. How late did they stay? Where did Bastien go after he left?
He was candid yet still so mysterious. Something told me I’d never get the answers I was looking for. Hell, I didn’t even know if I’d ever see him again, which made my fixation even more weird.
Thankfully, all had been quiet at home for a change. Like I had predicted, Papa had risen in the morning as if nothing had happened. He must have had some awareness, since he hadn’t pressed Maman on how she’d earned the fat shiner under her eye. Instead, he’d given us kisses on his way out the door before heading to work. I hated how he had acted last night, but it was better not to bring it up when he was in a good mood, since that was so rare to come by. I valued peace over conflict.
Papa had still managed to come home from work inebriated, but only slightly this time. His temperament was jollier than nasty, which relieved Maman. And I was just thankful to be able to hear my own thoughts for a change, since his yelling had the power to shut my inner monologue up immediately.
Papa and Maman sat across from each other in front of the fire. Papa was engrossed in a book, while Maman had barely looked up from her embroidery in the past fifteen minutes. She had been working hard to complete a special goose design on a blanket for one of the women at church who was expecting a baby soon. Why someone would ever choose to have children was beyond my understanding. It wasn’t that I hated them...babies could be cute on occasion, but I had just never felt the urge to have one of my own. It seemed like too much responsibility to keep them alive for that long, especially when motherhood would never be my happy place.
Mine was the cemetery, and I was even more anxious to return tonight. I was just hoping that Maman and Papa would buy my excuse to leave.
I finally garnered the courage to make my move and stood up. Neither of my parents paid me much attention. I cleared my throat.
“Do you need something, my dear?” Papa asked, his eyes still glued to his book and his thumb resting at the corner of the page, ready to turn it.
My voice was still stuck in my throat. Papa finally looked up at me when I took too long to respond. “I...um...I forgot my Bible in Sophie’s garden.” The girl owed me for covering for her last Sunday when she’d been out back after church making out with Elijah. If I hadn’t faked heat exhaustion and fainted, the entire congregation would have caught Elijah playing “find the Holy Grail” under Sophie’s dress.
“Why would it be there?” Papa asked.
“Um, I went over there earlier to borrow some eggs for the pie that Maman made.” True story, except the part about the Bible, which had been strategically hidden under my pillow hours before dinner.
He stared at me a moment longer, until Maman interrupted. “Use mine.” She stood to retrieve it from the table.
Shit.I stared at the brown leather cover, the tail of a black ribbon page-holder peeking out. Stupid me hadn’t anticipated that our household owned at least three more Bibles for my reading pleasure.
“Oh...no, thank you. I prefer mine.”
