Page 38 of Eyes Like Angel
A shame of a womanly potential being drained and drowned by a company of misery from a deadbeat husband’s secrecy and his haunted affairs plagued her, like his death mattered, and his death morphed her entirely. If women are no chained under rules constructed by society, and the sworn vows were to keep its sheath for a manhood sword, manhood wouldn’t keep its sheath its warmth on a turned grave.
My sworn oath wasn’t a contradictory, as I have sworn to chastity, but a sworn oath alike.
Soldiers swore to protect and prevail people’s safety from enemies, as angels sworn their life to send their lambs with guidance.
Under five hours, Miss Fairfield demanded with crossed arms, back slouched like an armadillo.
As Miss Fairfield fretted of her child’s downhill, a downfall sent into a mind-blowing spiral, screeched at me. My ears blared and rang, like the sound of beating eardrums driven close to burst, I held my hands together, tucked in lower, below my lower belly, the wooden basket I’d often used plopped, hanged by a thread, slipping inch by inch at my fingers. Meanwhile, I devoid meeting Miss Fairfield’s bellowing and infuriating eyes and sound, rotated my focus at the clear sunset sky.
Dared I hope to fly; I wished to spread my tarnished wings as the wind coursed in my numbing veins. Sadly, my arms were flimsy and heavy, dulled and broken, the only remains for my gloved fingers to operate.
Autumn was my least favorite time in a year, every single year. I hoped for the frosted breeze to settle in, and it was coming near after a month of November.
“Are you listening to me, you dumb bitch? I asked you to teach my beloved son about math. And he failed! He fucking failed because you don’t anything about numbers and equations. Do you know how long it is to find a math tutor, to get someone for a lower price, so I don’t have to worry about tutoring my son without the price charging up!”
I lowered my green eyes in sheepish, shameful at my limitations. “I’m sorry, Miss Fairfield, I did try my hardest to prepare your son for a better grade.”
Miss Fairfield scoffed haughtily.
My back tingled as I was fully aware of my surroundings—when the neighbors at the Samson Street rubbernecked a chaotic uproar from a miserable widow.
My teeth bit my lower lip, weak joints in my bones straightened. Skin blistered in glided lukewarm sweat, wrecked and shaken from tiredness and starvation, wanting this lecture to end, but only God could help me withstand against her wrath.
“Stop, you’re so fucking useless, I can’t even stand you! You let my son failed!And you let my daughter cry because she got her first period! How fucking dare you let my daughter bleeding all over the floor that cost $1,500!? You let my little girl cry, making her believe that she was dying! Tell Father Divine I won’t be attending, and will renounce—” Mrs. Fairfield threw a heavy flower pot of roses aimed at me—“and to hell—” Miss Fairfield threw a miniature ceramic jar with a wilted lily flower, thrown—and closely collided by my cheek by smallest gap—“with you! I hope the devil comes out to get you and burn your sins to hell!”
Neighborhood spectated from their windows and front doors. Mothers scooped their children, ushered inside, husbands averted their bodies, charade in false pretense in a blissful ignorance, and mothers blasted their withering and scorned disapprove and distaste on my lacking experience on education and girlhood.
I never gained advance knowledgeable access on school subjects after I scouted—yanked out of high school when I was fifteen and pledged myself to be as God’s devoted nun.
With shame, I trudged my exit from Samson Street and wept without a sound unleashed.
Until I bumped onto someone, didn’t bother myself to look up, but I spotted a tall figure with dark clothing and a mask. The neighbors were inside by the time I strode on.
“Forgive me,” I said, and ambled ahead in somber, feeling someone’s eyes onto me.
***
Sister Joanne slapped me and her slapped rang between walls. It was the third slap she managed to get her point across without her palm falling off. The first slap she made was light; the second slap was faster and left a hot sting, the third struck harder.
Sometimes an infliction in me was growing accustom from Sister Joanne. There were times I felt that skin on my scar-burnt hands itched, itched from boiling hot oil pouring onto me, forcing my self-control to lose it all and tempted to give in from its temptation, to peel my burnt skin just to have it bleed and a new layered skin bleed as if my skin was ready to be torn again.
It wasn’t that it was easy, sometimes my scratches and my own self-infliction was easier to cause than how others caused me. I’ve gotten used to my own self-pain, a habit to get my life easier.
“How fucking dare you, you stupid bitch, not knowing what a period is! She thinks her little daughter was dying! How fucking dare you!” Sister Joanne slapped me again for the fourth time, veins poking out on her neckline, eyes reddened at me.
I hardly knew what a menstruation is. I thought the little girl was dying. The little girl yelled for the past two hours, crying about how she’ll die soon. I tried to find a way to appease her, by giving her candy or her stuffed animal but she threw it all at my face, almost knocked out against the marbled faucet, telling me to get out and go find her mama.
Ms. Fairfield fired me on the spot, and I have no opportunity for me to steal food from her fridge or her cabinets. She has the best sources of food out of all neighbors.
My mouth quivered, fighting my hot tears back. “I tried my best—”
“I tried my best,I tried my best,” Sister Joanne mocked with an exaggerated deep tone she set. “Oh shut the fuck up, you stupid nun! Shut up! Just shut up! I hate your whining! You’ve been nothing but so argumentative to me and my poor soul!”
“But—”
“Shame! Shame on you!” She turned to face Father Divine. “She’s a fucking disgrace! Can you believe this? Just look at her! This uneducatedbitchdoesn’t know anything about a period to a female anatomy.”
Father Divine watched me with disdain, in those dark and distant stare.
