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Friday, February 15, 2008

Another first...

He was like a sliver, an eyelash in the corner of my eye. That's what I shall call him, eyelash. He managed to catch me in the corner between two doors inside a mission house where we, the Americans from the north (as far as Texas) were missionaries.

His dark eyes had narrowed in me the first day we stepped off the bus. I noticed but figured it was just my imagination. The other girls, older girls, were all so much prettier than I. At 15 my face was an oil field, my body was awkward and I had monkey arms. But he came up to greet me as the other boys of the mission flocked to my petite older sister and her friends. And while the boys of the town greeted the missionary boys with joking and crazy banter, my Eyelash kept his focus on me.

Oh we great Christians of the north going South to minister to those who've been corrupted, for the most part, by the teachings of the Catholic Church. Aren't we so grand, so very noble? I've been further south, but the ministry was a sideline for my family then; an afterthought, while it was the main thrust of the Mexico trips. Though that's all quite beside the point.

The point was that I had caught the Eyelash's eye and, in doing so, he had my fancy. I would have noticed him sooner, but so many of the boy were so beautiful and I was just opening. His attention was intense. He had a jaw that was set and solid. A low pouty lip that sprang full when he smiled. And his eyes... Mahogany wells veiled in a rich curtain eyelashes that persistently found my face. He knew no English, but my Spanish was strong... if only he'd talk. He never said more than 'si' or 'no', but he'd find excuses to be near me. He'd carry supplies to the classroom where I was the assistant bible school teacher and he'd lean against the door frame watching me until he was dismissed.

The day he trapped me between the doors, I'd gone back to the classroom to get a pile of something... I forget what - pictures? supplies? - something. All the kids had been take home on the bus we'd driven across the border in. All except his group of teenage boys who lived right by the mission and walked everyday. They'd gone home almost half an hour after the bus had left. Yet somehow, despite the diligence of the adults of our group to see that all the kids (especially the teen boys) had left, he managed to stay or sneak back in.

The place he had hidden was a V shaped area between two doors that swung inwards and often hit each other when they were both opened at the same time. My Eyelash had hidden himself in that narrow corner, the only spot you couldn't see when looking through the window of either door. As I carried the pile of things and pushed through one of those doors, I lost my grip and the stack tumbled to the floor. As the door swung shut, I dropped to my heads and knees and began to pull the pile together again. That's when I saw his shoe. I looked up the length of him and he lowered himself to his knees in front of me, pressing a finger to his lips. It was an unnecessary gesture for I knew the punishment for staying behind was banishment for a day. That I did not wish.

He helped me gather my papers and maneuvered us so that when we stood, his hands touching mine, I was in the corner against the wall and he in front of me. He set my stack aside and took my hands. Both thumbs ran along my knuckles as he stepped closer and closer until my back was firmly pressed into the space where the walls met. Dropping my lifted hand, he stroked my cheeks then said, "beso?" The only word I'd heard him say besides yes or no was to ask me for a kiss. How could I refuse? Blushing, I nodded yes.

Holding my chin, he touched his lips to mine, soft as a whisper. In increments, he pressed his body against mine as his tongue gently slid between my lips. I felt the touch of his h ard-on before he pulled his hips back, his skin was hot. But he did not stop the kiss that was soft and forceful all at the same time. I forgot how to breathe. The a sound in the hallway beyond flipped his head around.

He smirked at me. "Que bella! Manana?" I nodded, the silent one now. He'd called me pretty and promised more for tomorrow.

3 comments:

Father Robin said...

Wow. That makes an impression. Thank you.

Ninian said...

You are most definitely welcome! And thank you for commenting.

Jodi said...

I forgot how much I loved your writing!