Forgive Me

December 24, 1934

Dear Diary,

Forty-eight hours have passed since the unexpected events of that night. This morning, which was supposed to come with joy, was filled with pessimistic concerns. The stolen kiss enchanted my sanity with the sensation of those lips against mine surpassing all impression. It was as if all deception was focused on that situation, drying me out of the world. How can it be so hard to forget something so wicked?

The number of times Tom dared to evade me or the conversations I was a part of was painfully uncomfortable. Almost as if the idea of what he did disgust him when he looks at me. In a way, he was the culprit, not me. So tell me, diary, why do I feel like I was the one who made the wrong decision in pushing him away?

And to make matters worse, I was the fool who fell into his trap. That was not what I thought would happen when Thomas asked for a moment of my time. I was such a dupe, but I never expected such a thing from him. Hell, I wish I could stop time and stay forever in these four walls that materialize familiarity.

You see, this is what I mean. Why should I feel cornered in my room? The kiss was not like that of movie stars who expressed intimate love. So why worry about something that has already happened? I should get on with my life instead of worrying about something like 'oh my gosh,' I can't even say it.

Is it that hard to overlook something?

Why do memories tend to cloud our minds when we don't desire them?

Don't we have some control over our minds and body?

All this confusion brought me back to a poem I graze in a book and how its meaning was alien to my knowledge. But now that I think about it, its purpose seems more identifiable now than ever.

When the darkness takes over

Hold on to the last of the light

And know that when you let go, you held on

That you can survive in the dark

When you burn

You will rise from the ashes

Because you will have done what no one else will

And through the pain

You will rise when others have stayed down

So that's what I decided to do as soon as I got up, no more worrying or struggles about how to deal with the inevitable. From now on, I'll act like nothing happened because life goes on. And I wasn't going to let a simple mistake affect what little happiness I carried. As I made the bed, Anne reached the room with Tom behind her. When our eyes met, we looked at each other strangely, with a silent discussion before he turned and left just as he entered. Well, there was little hope of reconciliation if I said so myself.

Anne darted a glance at Tom's solitary figure making me, uneasy. "Are you sure nothing happened between the two of you? Because this (she points at me, and the direction Tom left) is nothing. Something occurred that night, something beyond your selection that everything is fine. You both returned that day with altered emotions, and neither has spoken to each other since then, so are you going to tell me what's going on? "

I scowled at her endless inquiry for information; Anne is very impulsive at times. "Don't be curious; nothing went on. We just talked and ended up arguing as usual. You know how he and I are. We're like oil and water; we can't tolerate each other for more than a second."

"Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that, maybe if you say it enough, you will start to believe it yourself."

"Believe what you want. There's no point arguing with you. " I declared before putting away the freshly washed sheets. I hate to justify myself to others as dense as the wall, given they will acquire their interpretation of things.

"Ok ... I believe you don't bite my head off. Either way, are you planning to talk to him soon?" Anne smiles for an unknown reason.

"Not quite. Why do you want to know?" I ask, a little annoyed. Does everything has to be related to Tom all of a sudden?

"Well, you ..." Anne mutters while fiddling with her nails.

"What? What did you do, Anne?"

"I haven't done anything. But it's what you are going to do?" Her cunning gaze darted to me as I stood up. For some reason, I felt like a bound mouse while a cat walked towards it. Why do you always have to find joy in my pain, Anne? Is this your way of numbing yours?

"What do you mean?" I ask with interest as she leans on the dresser.

"You're going to have to address him much sooner than you would like."

"Why?" The tension was killing me.

"Because in less than eight hours we will celebrate Christmas Eve. And if, for some reason, you have forgotten your part of the deal. I will remind you that Tom is your secret Santa, and you will have to give him something in front of everyone."

Wait, what! How could I have forgotten? Now that I think about it, I remember Sister Lane writing our names on tiny pieces of paper before crumpling them up and putting them inside a glass jar. Before passing it around and making us choose one. 'Well, now that everyone has a piece of paper, you will know that the name written on it is the person to whom you will give a gift.'

"But wait, Anne? How did you know?" With a glimpse in her direction, I knew the reason. Sometimes I can't hide anything from her since she follows me more than my own shadow.

"Hey, can you blame me? You weren't so apparent about hiding it." She defends as if her reason makes it all better.

"Damn it," now what am I going to do? I cannot avoid this easily. What am I going to give him? Surely, I am not going to make it out alive. My mood bordering on tension was a pastime for my so-called friend.

"Shut up, Anne, he who laughs last laughs best."

"Uhm, I think it's the other way around."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?" I defended, confused by a simple saying. We are so childish. Indeed, we are not ready to become real ladies. God, please save our souls from stupidity.

"Absolutely. Well, I'll leave you with that. Have fun; time is ticking." Anne pats her imaginary watch before heading for the door.

"You are the best, Anne." I clenched my teeth.

"You're right, I am the best, but don't you forget it."

"Trust me; I can't." I forced myself to smile back.

"Aren't you glad that we've descended as such since we were born?" Right now, there was nothing shy about her. I still can't believe we've been together all this time. For twelve years, I had the ability and patience to understand every aspect of her character. And how internally she meant well, otherwise I would have abandoned her long ago.

"I'd rather be friends with Tom," I confided as she faked a sigh of disbelief: I had to give it to her for being an excellent actress.

"Forgive me, but you are unreliable in desperate times. Don't let the door hit you on the way out." I smiled before shutting the door in her face. Anne is sometimes a bit cruel; her behavior always reflected her attitude when she didn't get what she wanted. I know that we tell each other everything, that there are no secrets between us, but sometimes there are things that I would like to keep to myself. Because secrets are the most sacred treasure of a woman, I found out about that in a movie we went to see over the summer at a drive-in. I remember the day as if it were yesterday; the cool breeze of the night after a hot day against my skin was like being reborn. In that instant, I felt that I was no longer a girl, that in the eyes of others, I was a woman.

Considering I was only eleven years old, I felt fabulous with my hair down and my white dress after being secretly taken to a youth-only place. We had jumped out of the back of a car into a world of fine arts in black and white. The woman on the screen portrayed elegance and desire in her wardrobes and jewelry. The way the actress recited her lines were intriguing and informative, teaching me a valuable lesson that night. "In life, you can give your love and your feelings to others, but in the end, you conserve your most sacred aspects."

The importance of it didn't mean much to me at the time, but I saw its significance over time. I realized how crucial it was to be a woman in a world where men dominated the aspect of society. Since humanity inspired creation, women have not had the right to live free from violence, slavery, discrimination, or be educated in most cases. For generations, women had to fight for their property, the right to vote, as well as a fair and equitable salary. As the famous saying goes, "Women's rights are human rights." That is to say, we as women have the right to everything without limits.

Just because I don't have a manly quality between my legs means I'm weak.

However, the girls at my school don't think the same or never talk about these things. They don't care anything beyond their traditional behavior. The common girls only talked about ordinary things like who was dating who or who was doing what. They never really saw the possibility of what they could achieve if they set their minds to it.

Sadly, I could care less.

~ • ~~ • ~~ • ~~ • ~~ • ~~ • ~

As I strode towards the barn, I could see the sparkle of the sun's kiss falling on the ground, making everything shine with joy. The movement of the breeze against my being enchants a scene as I dance along with the wind as my instructor. Since I was little, I wished to dance, but since we couldn't afford dance lessons, I never brought it up. I didn't want to force my guardians to think that they had to take me to these courses to keep me happy. I was satisfied with the life I carried. I didn't need lessons or music to dance when I had a whole field as a dance floor and mother nature as an audience.

Sometimes I danced alongside Anne if she felt up to it, but for the most part, I did it alone. Before continuing to the barn, I took a deep breath. The shed flourished on the hill among the grass and meadows as if it had grown from a precious seed. The structure belongs there, and if it didn't have the impression of this landscape, something special would be missing. Although the wood was old and the light from the ceiling illuminated the dust particles, it was a great place.

The inner stables had old custom windows that let the horses see the view of the yard. Once the old iron bolts are open, there is a ladder that goes up to the attic, where we store hay and straw. However, the place was also a playground, with childhood memories as sweet as the scent of sun-kissed grass. These lands represent the sweetness of solitude and the freedom of wicked thoughts, a place to listen to the rain on the thin old roof as if it were music from heaven.

"Good morning; how are we today?" I greet the barn animals, and as always, they react with the appropriate gesture. The declining numbers did not reflect what it was before. Over the years, we had to sell some animals to meet the requirements of survival. Even if it hurt, I had to give away my Klin. The look he gave me that day broke my heart, but I knew I couldn't protect him as he deserved.

"Good morning Mrs. Cow. I will attend to your needs today, don't worry; you are in good hands." Paulina had asked me to fetch some milk since she required it to make dessert. She seemed excited when she handed me the bucket. I wonder what had her so delighted?

Anyway, here I was, milking the cow, lost in thought. It was like untangling a ball of wool; the loose parts were usable, while the rest was a mess, useless until it wasn't.

"What should I do, Mrs? What should I give Tom? Should I give him anything after what he did?" I only earned a groan in return. Great, this was all I was missing, asking an animal for suggestions.

"How stupid," I squashed some hay in my fists and hurled it, hitting some hens in the process.

"Wow, sorry. Don't look at me like that; it was an accident." I begged when the creatures lined up like an army ready for battle.

"Hens, I warn you! Stop this madness. I will not repeat myself." I ordered while backing away. It wasn't wise to think they would understand a word.

"Peck me once, and I swear I'll grill all of you for dinner tonight." The recognition of getting fried makes them run towards me, causing me to scamper away and collide with Sister Lane on the way out.

"Candy, watch where you're going. You almost knocked me over!" She shouts as she regains her balance.

"I'm sorry, but I was the one who fell," I exhaled as I got up.

"Are you implying that I pushed you?" She glares at me.

"Not specifically, but your physique did," I shrugged off honestly.

"You're calling me fat!" My smile fell apart.

"No way. You've never looked better than today." The sister raised a hand to cease my jokes. "Candy, I suggest you save your remarks before you offend me."

Well, Candice, there's not a day you can't go wrong. I quickly looked down in remorse, something that has been dominating me lately. Ever since the conversation I had with Tom, I have felt vulnerable.

"What is it, my girl? What has you so unhappy all of a sudden?" She held my hand as we sat on the bench by the garden.

"Everything," I said as she stroked my hair when I settled on her lap.

"Why don't you tell me what's causing you trouble? Maybe I could help; you know I'm here for whatever you may need."

"I've recently felt lost with no territory of belonging. Who am I? Why was I abandoned without reasoning?" I cried between breaths. I didn't think this was going to hit me so suddenly.

"Listen to me," she decrees as she helps me sit up. "You are Candice White, my love, and nothing else. You are a soul that illuminates the night, not the darkness of your soul. Would you like to hear what someone once told me? " She caresses my face tenderly.

"Please," I begged with compassion.

"You, my dear, can bring your light to others with absolute freedom, as long as you walk with determination and gratitude. Let the bitterness of others fall to the ground and not from your lips. Let the ego be your pride in the way it serves and not itself. Seek your heart in happiness and learn to sing boldly to the simplicity of the truth. Let the ways of love be your guide in the languages of men. Listen with your eyes instead of looking away. Ask your spirit for guidance in moments of vulnerability and seek to be someone who heals and finds those who aid. Always ask yourself, 'Why?' Try to recognize how ideas can get combined, given they are always two parts of the same puzzle. Learn to be an embodiment of kindness while rejecting any opportunity to hurt others with words or actions. Do this, and you will find out who you are, and you will understand your childlike spirit, your most authentic self waiting within. "

Her words touched my heart, leaving me at ease. "Thanks, I needed that," I said as I hugged her.

"You're welcome, my dear. I hope these words can help you the same way they helped me when I needed them the most." I turned to gaze off into the garden. I admired everything about her, from the way the breeze blew into her hair to the gentle rise in her voice. To me, she looked like some water fairy. But what made her be was the way she cared for us ever since we got here. She calmed us better than any medicine, and in return, we were attentive to each of her words because she always knew what to say. She gave us the gift of a mother, and I don't know how we will ever return her kindness.

"What happened to you at that stage of your life? I know I have no right to ask you, but what happened?" Listening to my worries, she wiped away her tears, letting me recognize the agony and despair in them.

"It's a long story that I'll tell you one day, but for now, let's go inside. We have a lot to do before tonight's celebration. Do you have everything ready?" She asks with a smile.

"Yes, I'll go get it right now," I got up right away.

"Candy, you know I'm not talking about the milk," With a side look, I knew she referred Tom, but I wanted to believe she was worried about me and not him for once.

"I assure you I will have it ready for when I have to give it to him," I notified as I clasped my hands. It is difficult to wish for something when reality looks at you with spite.

"Thank you, now go get that bucket of milk. And try not to piss off those hens again." The sister warned me before leaving.

"It's not funny," I complained. I was really in danger. Those chickens were looking for blood.

"It is." She continued her laughter on the way home.

When I subsided to the barn, the turmoil of the creatures hadn't died down. I had to fight my way through while avoiding spilling the contents of the bucket. Once outside, I sigh, fastening my leather journal, and putting it with my pen in my little scarlet red satchel. The bag has been my best friend ever since I found it at the antique store years ago when Sister Lane gave it to me as a kind of birthday present. It was the last thing we got before it all happened. Who could have said that it would've been our previous gesture of happiness?

The leather used to be new, polished, and smooth. Now, after five years of carrying this bag, it's finally starting to look time-worn, but it's that old, worn-out kind of look that makes it even more appealing to me.

I only hope I can find something that Tom could appreciate as I did.