Mask of Celibacy: A Multimedia Novella

24 ¦ Longing

Reality hit me pretty hard as soon as I met my grandparents in front of O'Kane. Mom's broad smile morphed into a puzzled, disapproving frown when she noticed my new attire. 

"Hi, Jess!" Grandad said as he cast a worried glance towards Mom. "Looks like you had fun with your new friends."

"I did, thanks," I replied, trying to keep upbeat. I decided to ignore my grandmother's disdain, which oozed from her like an invisible, poisonous miasma.

"Hello, dear," Mom said, giving me another scrutinizing stare. "Where are your clothes?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Helen and I just had a makeover this morning. Cute, huh?" 

Not a lie, just not the whole truth.

"Uh-huh."

"Helen let me take this home," I said, trying to stay strong. But my voice faltered. "She's got so many, she needed to make room for more. I didn't waste my money or anything."

"I see."

Mom didn't need to berate me with a lecture. Oh, no. She had this genius way of tearing me to shreds with one piercing glare. Or one well-timed huff of disapproval. Ripping away all my resolve until I felt like that same little child I was fifteen years ago.

Clutching Mom's feet, begging for her to save me. And save me she did. All I needed to do was follow her rules. A small price for my reprieve.

Until now...

Resentment rose like burning acid in my throat, and I tossed my bag in the back seat with a callous flick. I'd had my taste of freedom. True freedom. Returning to this strictness felt as though someone had decided to wrap me in a straitjacket when I'd done nothing wrong...

"Carm, what did we talk about?" Grandad whispered in a hushed tone he probably didn't think I could hear. 

"Just look at her," Mom said in a shocked whisper. 

My heart thudded against my ribs as I climbed into the back seat, sulking in silence. Dread curled up on my stomach like a black cat kneading my raw insides with extended claws. Tears of shame stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

Only a few more months. Just a few more, and you're free.

On the awkward ride home, I sank into the comfort of daydreams. 

Eric and I were browsing through the foreign language section of the library. Caressing me from behind, he wrapped an arm around my waist and brushed back my hair with a tender touch. Planting gentle kisses on my neck, he made me moan with delight. 

Eric, I miss you already. Like a gaping pit in my chest.

As do I, he replied.

I've never felt this way before. What does it mean?

He stayed quiet for a moment, pondering my question. Perhaps a slumbering romantic lay dormant inside both of us.

Perhaps...

Eric began to play Liszt's Liebesträme, his fingers dancing over the keys of the grand piano. We sat on the music bench side by side as his deep, melodious voice echoed in the caverns of my thoughts. 

When can I see you again, my muse? 

His words made me shudder with delight. 

The piano at Brooks Hall faded away and we were back at the Loyola Ballroom. Only the two of us on the dance floor. His melancholic piano music played in the background as though by magic. Eric approached me and cupped his hands on my hips as we swayed.