Clementine had become a wild child. Born in America but raised abroad, she now had little regard for the expectations of high society. But her reckless ways eventually catch up with her when she is kicked out of college in New York City and forced t...
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62
It was all very simple and straightforward, but also getting hard to come up with different excuses to keep this all out of the light.
The next evening, she came into the living room and saw her parents together but reading their own thing.
She has been actively avoiding them for the past days, worrying that if she spent too much time with them they'd notice that something was different with her and ask her questions.
On the outside she may have looked the same, maybe a little slimmer, but on the inside she felt like a whole new woman.
"Hi," she said, casually tracing her finger against the coffee table and sitting across from them.
Both her parents made some sort of noise to acknowledge her presence, but didn't really look at her.
Even better, she thought, this'll be easier than I thought.
"I'm going to be out of the house Saturday. I'm starting to teach at the ballet school," Clementine tried to continue to sound as cause as she could.
At that though her parents looked up at her.
Okay, maybe not as easy as I thought.
"What do you mean, teaching?" Her father asked her, putting the newspaper folded into this lap.
"Last time I was practising, I saw Mlle Bouranette and she offered me the position," Clementine was noting her fingers, trying to keep the pressure of the strain out of her voice.
She did't say anything about it. But that's really great, Clementine," her mother looked at her father, using an encouraging voice.
She wasn't lying. She was meaning to talk to them about this, she meant to start teaching. But that exact Saturday, her plan was not to go to the studio. Her plan was to meet Zico.
He promised to take her somewhere, as it was his turn to show her something as he said.
Clementine saw this as an encouraging sign that their 'relationship' was progressing. She had to admit to herself that she was the more pressing one with this relationship so far, going wherever he called her.
And even though this time wasn't that different, it was him calling only her to do something for only them both.
He didn't say what it was going to be, but he told her to pack a swimsuit and meet him in the morning. All encouraging signs of a semi-normal outing.
She hated the anticipation, counting down the days even though it was so soon.
She shaved her body, she used foreign hair oils, she felt that his was going to be special and she was going to make sure that she was ready for it.
She packed a small leather backpack with the essentials she imagined she'd need.
Already knowing what she would wear; a white dress that acted as a cover up to the bikini underneath. And sneakers. She was ready to take it all off if the moment presented itself.
