Forgive Me Pt.2

A little later, at noon, everything was set for tonight's celebration. The only thing left to do was find something to give to that sourpuss. Which was not an easy task; Tom is a special lad with a unique taste for music, clothes, and contemporary life in Michigan. A state of scarcity, fringed by four of the largest lakes and forests enclosing half the form. The woods established in the north and south of the peninsula were the favorite locales for hunting birds, deer, and rabbits. The inhumanity of shooting these innocent creatures simply because the entire nation suffered from critical shortages merely increased over the years, creating a fun moment into a scavenger hunt for the day's dinner. These resistance times were the title of the great depression, accumulated over the years, leaving an entire continent in anguish. The dreaded times of loss dominated every social class, leaving every individual of status in poverty.

Considering what was going on, I never grumbled about our state of life. I did my best to help distribute food to the thousands of crowds who lined up every day for a pane of food. At first, it hurt me to see these people's minds for months, knowing they were starving for more than a piece of bread and a tablespoon of soup. But it was all we could give at the time. Over time, things improved a bit, and we were able to offer more than food scraps. But that didn't mean things were looking up. We just learned to adapt and survive the best we could.

"Kids, are you all ready? We'll be heading out very soon." Mother superior declared openly from the front porch, turning me away from the past.

Before listening to the children's responses, I wish I could say no and skim a book instead of going. I wasn't about to go out and pretend that everything was fine and smile to make it more believable. However, this wasn't a matter if I wanted to or not.

"Okay, then everyone, get in the car and don't forget to bring the things you don't use anymore. There would be a box in the back of the car so that you can put them in."

"Yes, Sister!" The majority groaned at abandoning the few trinkets they had as souvenirs from their previous lives. In my opinion, I found it a bit rude. But like many times before, my argument is ineffective. I slowly lifted my doll and combed her hair, gently trying to remember every detail before placing it inside the box. It was one of the only precious gifts I had ever received when I was little. But it was time to return the gesture to someone else. I remember the day they gave her to me like it was yesterday. I was standing outside the town toy store looking through trinkets displayed in the window. Everything stood lovely. I would always go there after school, spending hours memorizing everything in detail before going home, wondering what new things would be there the upcoming week.

In my mind, I didn't care if the toys were for girls or boys. I only saw them for what they were, toys.

One day the couple from the store took me inside after a group of children harassed me for not having money to buy the cheapest commodity. I thought the holders would tell me not to come back, but that was not the issue. When I stood in front of the cash register, I was fascinated by how colorful everything looked. I never really dared to go inside, and as I took everything into perspective, I knew why. Toys hung from the ceiling or subsisted lined up on endless shelves and shaped towers. Even the color of the walls and the wood added to the atmosphere, making it more fascinating. A part of me thought of grabbing as much as I could carry and running away.

"Honey, I noticed you come here every day by yourself. Where are your parents?" The woman crouched in front of me as her husband gave me a warm smile from behind the counter. They looked like a kind couple; I wouldn't want to ruin the impression.

"I don't have parents. I'm an orphan."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." The man whispered as he glanced at his wife. I wouldn't say I liked causing pity. Yet, their mirrored manners settle differently.

"It's ok; you don't have to worry about it. I'm not ashamed to admit it even if others do." I don't know if it was what I said, but I got a doll in return. The moment they placed her in my hands, it felt wrong. Like I shouldn't deserve it when I hadn't done anything to earn her. Even if it killed me, I rapidly took her presence. She was in all a beauty with her brunette hair and school uniform, followed by a Barrett.

"I can't accept this; I don't have what to pay it with," I muttered with a broken heart as I placed back the doll on the counter. Was this their cruel way of making fun of me?

"Oh no, sweetie, don't worry, it's our gift to you," they both smiled at me as they placed the doll once again in my hands. I didn't know if I wanted to cry out of their kindness or because I had gotten what I deeply desired. At that moment, I learned that there are good people, but only when you need them.

The memory was disturbed by a car that parked itself in front of ours. When the stranger stepped out and walked towards us, I realized that he was our neighbor. The one who always cut out lumber during winter, but why was he here?

"Thank you once again for doing us this favor, Marcus." The smile the sister gave him in return couldn't seem more bashful. Oh, dear, not this again.

"Don't worry; there's no problem. I'm glad to assist you; I mean everyone this afternoon." We all groaned uncomfortably; it was strange to see older people flirt. Some people wear a smile; this man was the smile. Everything about him was a soft and discreet joy as he greeted us.

"Well, if we're all ready, there's a gathering waiting for us; Candy, Thomas, please help Anne hold the good trays like your lives depends on it; we wouldn't want to arrive empty-handed, do we?" Paulina asks us before hitting the back of our heads for putting on a face.

"No, miss," we muttered as we settled in the back of Marcus's car. I guess that's why he was here, assuming our numbers; We weren't all going to fit into one. The interior of his vehicle was ten times better than ours. The softness of the leather and the robustness of the metal intensified the chill of this morning. A feeling that dominated us for the first time when leaving our comfort zone. This afternoon we were headed to the town hall to celebrate Christmas Eve with the people from church who have helped Sister Lane with donations and opportunities for us when getting adopted. We all had something small but beneficial for the gathering. The gesture wasn't huge, but it was big enough to help society feel relieved from life's problems for one night.

On the road, as the car engine dreamed against the lonely country roads, I enjoy the roaring wind that flutters my hair and hisses it in my ears. The outside view was extraordinary, as it had stopped snowing for today, allowing its beauty to shine against the glittering paradise of the city of Detroit. The hum of the song "Silent Night" playing on the radio was a sense of rush to be on time.

It was almost hypnotizing a sad wish.

Almost.

If I weren't so confused about my thoughts, I would mind why Tom was sitting so close to me when there was enough space to spare. And almost as if I had wished for it, we made a remote stop. "Alright, kids, we've arrived. Make sure you exit carefully. And please wait outside without running or wandering around without my permission. Ben, Victor, that goes for both of you. Got it?" I heard the sister lecturing behind us, embarrassing them with her overprotective mothering sermons.

"Yes, Sister."

"Come on, let us help you out." Paulina and Marcus proposed while removing the dishes from our hands.

Upon leaving, I was amazed at the preparations that the community has prepared for the celebration. Candles and red poinsettia plants formed paths on the stairs and doors of each building. For a second, I persistently looked away to admire the enormous tree adorned with bright colors and candles surrounding it. I had never seen anything so beautiful in my life; people went in and out of coffee shops and bakeries like bees. The evening sky was fading, with blue hues replacing the pinks and oranges, as the fire from the lights poured over the busy street, with wooden stalls revealing its hidden wonders what attracted long lines of consumers.

The warm smiles of the children eagerly awaiting their cup of hot chocolates return lovely smiles to the people behind the stalls as they prepare freshly browned chestnuts in paper cones and creamy hot chocolate layered with whipped cream. The energetic young men who laughed at their creamy chocolate mustaches follow shortly after. The adult's discussions could be listened to through the continuous chatter surrounding the dynamic environment.

"You all, go ahead. I'll park the car and then meet

with you inside," Marcus informs us as he gets into his car.

"Oh, okay, I'll make sure to save you a seat." The sister indicates as Marcus returns a loving look.

"Come on, kids, let's go inside," the sister announced as she led us inside. Instead of following her, we took a few seconds to enjoy the scenery one last time. Once inside, we locate that group of people who over-excited each situation, overwhelming me. Among the crowd of respectable women, who spoke loudly, occurred the mayor's wife, who wore the most elegant hat of all. But tonight, she wore the same expression as the rest, with the pleasure of gossiping.

With a single glance in our direction, her face unfolds with an incredible curiosity.

"Lane Cornwall, how I live and breathe! When did you come back? It's been years since we last saw each other!" The sister returns the gesture, blushing at the effusive greeting of the woman. The lady was short in stature with an appearance and outfit that corresponds to her tall demeanor.

"Nice to see you too, Martha." I could see she wanted nothing more than to disappear at that moment.

"It's always good to see you," They both greet each other in a warm hug.

"I'm sure it is." It was painful to watch them force each other to chuckle.

"My friend, how have you been?" Martha caresses her with friendship.

"It has been a difficult few years, but I'm okay, and you, my friend, how was Europe?"

"It was great; I studied until I couldn't take it anymore, but I succeeded as a teacher at the Catholic institute in London. And you, what did you do with your life? Did you ever end up going to that art school in Paris, or did you choose that lad over your dreams?" Seeing the sister intimidated by the question, I decided to answer for her.

"Of course she did. Sister Lane accomplished to study the paintings of the greatest masters, but now she takes care of us." Thinking carefully about what I said and the push that both Anne and Tom gave me meant I spoke more than I should. But it wasn't like I was lying. How else would you explain the gift she has for creating such paintings hanging on our walls?

The woman darted, stunned. "Sister Lane," she murmurs before looking at her friend. The tears in her eyes told her everything, but not enough to clarify anything at the end of the exchange.

"Forgive me if I said something I shouldn't."

"Don't be; it was a long time ago," She assured her.

"Well, it's never too late to proclaim my condolences. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go." Martha bid her goodbye before walking away. That night was the last time she ceased to speak to us again.

"What just happened?" Anne whispers. I honestly didn't know. Even if I did, I wouldn't tell — it wasn't my story to tell.

"Come on, let's put these trays on the tables over there." I pointed in the opposite direction, wanting to give Sister Lane some time to recover.

With the last breath, I looked away, "I should have kept my mouth shut."

~ • ~~ • ~~ • ~~ • ~~ • ~~ • ~

As the terms of the night enacted, I felt comfort and prosperity in the air discerning the kids so unrestricted. Mother Superior had returned to her usual self, but I could sense the longing in her eyes. The love she had confided me about was long gone. Martha expressed her condolences upon noticing her friend's well-being after referring to a young man. Could it be possible that they were talking about the same person? When I felt someone's hand on my shoulders, I perked up. Seeing that it was the sister, I gulped, ready to hear what she had to say. But she only smiled at me and placed her hand on my head, reflecting her response in her hug. Perhaps I was too inexperienced to understand what went on without questioning things.

A riot of praise demolished the surroundings' tranquility, making me search for what the crowd was cheering. On stage, Tom had sat in front of the piano before beginning to play a tune. His fingers were flexible as they moved across the keys, first over ivory and then sliding down to ebony. Now and then, the fluid movement of its overflowing edges punctuated by the sharp tip of a choppy note or an elegant leap that skipped octaves. When Tom inclined his head to the piano, his hair falls over his serene as he closed his eyes, capturing mine. This symphony was different from any other; it was nothing more than Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata (Sonata No.14 In C Sharp Minor, Op.27, No.2). The recognition of remembrance made him play without the sheet music. Slowly, the melody seemed to fill the room from the edges of the ceiling before spilling over the doors and windows, while initially, slender fingers danced sweetly.

Seeing him in such a perspective utterly captivated me by his playing, giving me a notion of a gift. I quickly pardoned myself from the table and ran to the children's area, where brushes and paints prevailed on the shelves. I quickly fetched a canvas and carefully painted a portrait while Tom played his piece. One after another, he performed Beethoven's most beautiful ballads, captivating everyone in the room down to the last essential silence. In the end, the church ended up acclaiming after the outbreak of the previous performance.

"Candice," Anne ran to me. "Did you know that Tom could play so well?"

"No, I didn't. I'm just as surprised as you." I whispered, wielding the canvas behind me. It took me by surprise seeing him narrate so sufficiently.

"What are you hiding?" She asks me while making an effort to look behind me.

"It is my gift for Tom." It was a struggle not to blush my emotions.

"From what I see, you've already fulfilled your end of the bargain. Do you mind if I look at it?"

"I'd show you, but it's personal. Maybe you can glimpse at it when I hand it over," I said. I wanted Tom to see it first. I needed to see his reaction and finally fix the situation between us.

"Oh please, it's just a gift. It doesn't have to mean anything." She argued, trying to make me give in.

"Is that what you think?" I said.

"Of course."

"What did you give Natasha?"

"Some hair clips and ribbons that she adored," What she explained matched her choice of words. It wasn't comforting, but I couldn't judge her for it. Neither of us had the money to buy actual gifts, leaving second-hand or handmade things as a last resort.

"Sorry, but it's still Tom's gift." Anne sighed, annoyed, but I didn't care; she had a lot of attitude for only being twelve years old.

"Do you have any idea what it is?" Tom asks as he walks over to us, making me anxious. Had he been there all this time listening?

"No," Anne instructs him. Then she shakes her head. "Okay, yeah. Maybe."

"Very ingenious." I hear him tell her, which irritates me for an unknown reason.

"You're welcome. Excellent piano recitation, by the way."

"Thanks; it was part of my gift for Candice," Tom smiled shortly before standing next to me, looking at the crowd.

"Seriously," Anne jokes as she looks at me behind Tom.

"Don't be cruel," I whispered as I returned to my composure.

"Did you like your gift, Candy?" He asks out of the blue with some uncertainty. Was he afraid of my reply? Or was he still angry for calling him a pervert? Either way, I stood in front of him.

"Why don't you take a look and find out?" I suggest as I provide him the painting.

"What is this?" He asks with a constructive countenance as he struggles to suppress a smile.

"Your gift and the answer to your question," Anne retorted. She didn't like wasting time.

"What she said," I muttered sheepishly. When Tom clutches the canvas, I couldn't help but look at his growing smile and the blush he tried to conceal. As he pulled off the blanket, covering it, I captured the emotions that ran through his face and the tears that began to fall.

"You may not have your mother to tell you these things, but I am here to tell you how proud I am of you," I confessed to him before going for a hug. I guess I took him by surprise because it took him a while before he returned the gesture. The painting was of himself dressed in a tuxedo sitting in front of a piano, playing his heart out on stage, while I was a spectator in the crowd in a white dress smiling at him.

"Thank you," he sobbed into my shoulder. At the same time, Anne took hold of my hand.

"No problem," I reacted while rubbing his back. The touch of his hands on me backfilled a warmth that I had never felt before. What was this feeling?

"Ok, get your hands off me. Knowing you, they can glide elsewhere." I mocked, bringing in a smile.

"If that's what you want," He winks at me.

"Tom!"

"Just kidding," he laughs as I nudge him.

"Yeah, right!" I muttered.

"What did you quote the piece?"

"Why do you ask?" I raise a question as Anne stared at the painting.

"Each painting has a name that tells its story or something significant like us when named at birth. A title to classify something." The rationale made sense.

"Well, if that's the case, then your gift will be titled 'Forgive me.'

"How comforting to the situation," Anne joked as she peeks at our reactions.

"Candy dear, I'm sorry to interrupt, but Sister Lane has asked you to sing for us as the last blessing before we leave." Paulina's proximity deters me from watching Tom's fallout.

"Do I have to be the one to do it? I don't even sing that well." I'm not up to sing in front of a crowd. Why would Sister Lane ask for such a thing?

"Yes, honey, it has to be you, the sister, asked you to do it specifically and no one else. Come," she raised her hand. I swear this feels like a punishment. "I've heard you sing before, Candy. No voice can compare itself to yours." Paulina conveys as she leads me to the stage. The integrity of things felt more like brainwash than anything else. I could clasp Anne and Tom's breath every time I took a step.

"And what do you suggest I sing?" I stressed on the verge of madness.

"I don't know. Whichever you want, merely pick one and sing. We're counting on you." Paulina urged me on stage.

"Thanks for the incentive," I whispered before taking a peek at the audience and began feeling anxious, knowing that every single one of them was amounting to something. As I dazzled the crowd, some smiled at me while others just ogled at me. I hastily closed my eyes and took a deep breath, not to let my fear take hold of me. Shortly after, all the noise died away under my beating heart. This song is for you, Mom, wherever you are, I whisper before I begin.

Ave Maria

Full gratia

Maria, full gratia

Maria, full gratia

Bird, bird dominus

Dominus tecum

Benedicta Tu in mulieribus

Et Benedictus

Et Benedictus Fructus Ventris

Ventris tuae, Jesus.

Ave Maria

Ave Maria

Mater Dei

Ora pro-Nobis peccatoribus

Pray Pro Nobis

Ora, ora pro-Nobis peccatoribus

Nunc et in hora Mortis

Et in hora Mortis nostrae

Et in hora Mortis nostrae

Et in hora Mortis nostrae

Ave Maria

(English translation:)

Hail Mary, full of grace,

Mary, full of grace,

Mary, full of grace,

Hail, Hail, the Lord.

The Lord is with thee.

Blessed art thou among women, and blessed,

Blessed is the fruit of thy womb,

Thy womb, Jesus.

Hail Mary!

Hail Mary, Mother of God,

Pray for us sinners,

Pray, pray for us;

Pray, pray for us sinners,

Now and at the hour of our death,

The hour of our death

The hour of our death,

The hour of our death

Hail Mary.

When I finalized the last verse, everyone stood up, clapping, making me smile with their mirths. For the first time in my life, I felt loved by a group of strangers who were not my family.

"You sing beautifully." A kind man congratulates me as I retreat from the church. It took me by surprise, but I was kind enough to thank him.

"Thank you," I replied.

"Time to go, Candice, let's go!" Tom grabbed my hand.

"Wait, Tom, don't be rude." I nudge him.

"So your name is Candice?" The man asks in amazement.

"Yes, it is, is there a problem?" Tom threatens. I did my best to hold him down, but he was too tall for my size.

"On the contrary, what a beautiful name for such a pretty girl." The compliment made me blush.

"A thousand apologies for the insult, sir, but who are you?" I ask. He materialized the upper class with how he carried himself and his attire.

"My name is ..." was all I could heed before Tom led me to the car. All I could do was say goodbye when I got in the car, leaving the man behind with a smile.

I wanted to feel bad for being rude, but I was too busy wandering through the clouds to think clearly.

Indeed, tonight's event was not what I expected.

But I'm glad I was able to come.