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Finally, I hear the clicks on the door. I’ve been waiting to see Sister Mary or one of the others, but instead it’s Father Edward.
“Father,” I say, bowing my head.
I watch him walking closer to me. His shiny black shoes stop just in front of me, but I don’t look up. I’m afraid of making him angry.
He reaches at me, lifting my head up. As he studies my face, I examine him. He must be around forty, and he’s good-looking, tall and wide. He looks strong, and power radiates off him, a power that makes me respect him and be terrified of him at the same time.
“What a beautiful sight you are,” he finally says. His voice surprises me. It’s so soft. I’ve been expecting a voice like thunder, shaking my bones, but this softness relaxes me.
“What’s your name, beautiful child?” he asks.
“Veronica, Father.”
“Veronica… such a strong name for a delicate flower like you,” he says, caressing my cheek softly. The gesture is so sweet, so parental, so foreign I want to have more of it. I lean into his hand before I can stop myself, but I can’t help the desire of feeling some parental love since it’s the first. I’ve never felt it from my mother, and I don’t know who’s my father is or if he’s dead or alive.
“Do you want to join me in my room, Veronica?” he asks, and I nod.
He smiles at me. For a moment I feel like I see a glimpse in his eyes, a dark glimpse, but it passes so quickly before I can decide if I really see it.
I shake my head at the ridiculous fear and doubt.
He’s someone I can trust. He’s a man of God. He can help me, he can take care of me.
That’s what I repeat at myself as I hold the hand he outstretches for me to take. That’s what I repeat to myself when his hold is almost too rough to be comfortable. And that’s what I chant over and over as he opens a door for us to enter.
***
We’re sitting next to each other on a couch. I thought we would be in his office, but this room doesn’t look like one. It’s almost homey. There are two couches that face each other, separated with a coffee table in between, a small, wooden desk and a wooden chair that faced the far wall, and a bed at the corner.
“You must be hungry, little one. Eat,” he says, handing me a plate full of fruits and pasta.
I eat as he watches me. I stop chewing when his fingers start playing with my hair. My hair is now longer, passing my shoulders. He plays the strands between his fingers, and I don’t know how I feel about that.
“Sister Mary told me you started to bleed, Veronica,” he says out of the blue.
My cheek must turn red, he chuckles and caresses my cheekbone with his knuckles. I finally nod.
“You’ve become a woman now, my delicate flower. There’s nothing you need to be ashamed of,” he says, his hand moves down to my neck. “You’ll be an amazing woman.”
He drops his hand, and I exhale. I didn’t even realize I’ve been holding my breath.
“But I need to help you, Veronica. I need to help you during this time so you can stay pure, so evil can’t touch you. Would you like that, beautiful? Would you like me to help you purify your body and cleanse your soul?” His voice is so soft, so comforting. It’s convincing, and with every word, he earns my trust.
I nod, even though his words are so close to my mother’s, even though this kind of religion, this kind of God scares me.
“It will be just you, and me, and God, my beautiful.”
I nod. I can trust him.
“You’re special, Veronica. I can feel that you’re special. You’ll let me help you, won’t you my dear? You’ll beg me to help you find your place in this world, right?”
I gasp. Finding my place in the world… this is what I’ve been dreaming of since I was a little girl. I’ve been hoping that I have a better place in this world, better future in front of me than a life with my mother, a life that I spent being locked in a closet.
Father Edward has won me with this last question.
“Yes, Father. Yes, I’ll let you,” I answer.
Chapter 21
