Loretta of the Lamp

Between freedom and fear

[Loretta's POV]

Now, I've woken up in worse positions. Falling asleep in my English class was nothing out of the ordinary, but I knew sleeping through this exam was going to look pretty bad. I don't think I can explain how hard it had been to stay awake. From the moment I sat down at the desk and we were called to pick up our pens, I could feel the weight on my eyelids. I was still rubbing the sleep from my eyes when my English teacher stormed out of the Head teacher's office with the Head, Mr Greggs, in tow. I had heard her raised voice from inside the his office, and the contrasting calm as he spoke with her.

He closed the office door behind him softly, and they both stood before me without saying a word, while I sat on the pew in the waiting area. I didn't feel the need to stand like you would if a bride or the queen had just walked in.

"Loretta," he said.

Did I hear kindness in his voice? Pity?

"Initially this behaviour may have been funny to you, Loretta, but you have now gone one step too far." My English teacher's tone was far less accommodating. People had laughed when she woke me in the middle of the exam, a few idiots had even cheered. To be fair the first few times I had fallen asleep in class I had gone along with it, a grin and a smart retort here and there never seemed to go astray in convincing my teachers that I was a lost cause, one to be ignored and left alone. But I didn't think this was funny, I never assumed I would pass my English finals, but at the same time I never intended to—

"—throw your life down the drain! Did you hear me? You are going to throw your life down the drain Loretta!" she was still yelling.

"Doris, calm down. Why don't you take a moment?"

I never knew her name was Doris. Mrs Saunders. Doris Saunders.

Doris Saunders stormed out of the waiting area.

Mr Greggs sat down on the pew with enough room between my slouching self and him that he could turn to face me and hoist one leg up over his other in a casual manner that I knew suggested that he wished to be informal and open with me. I personally felt that crossing legs never looked comfortable enough to be considered casual behaviour.

"Loretta, I've been hearing many things about you over the last few months," he clasped his hands in his lap. This felt like being called to confession, or worse, like I was sitting in the office of the counsellor my mother had sent me to.

I didn't say anything, and so he continued, "Unfortunately none of these things have been positive. I need to talk honestly with you. I know you are going through a hard time lately, and I know no one can truly understand how you feel. But we forgave that episode last term."

He meant the night I broke into the school.

"And we assumed at the time you had reached your lowest point."

He knew that hadn't been true, and I knew it wasn't true, although I didn't view it in the same way. I had viewed it as the beginning of my understanding of the truth between freedom and fear.

He knew it as the beginning of a downward spiral that now saw me up all night misbehaving and snoozing all day in my classes, if I even turned up in the first place.
"Unlike what Mrs Saunders believes, I know that you are not a fool, and I know you are not behaving this way to amuse others. And I actually do believe you are concerned about your own future and your own pride and dignity."

He was right, in a way.

But I simply did not fear the situation, and therefore I had no concern. No, I was not the class clown, but at the same time I was genuinely unconcerned with my performance in school. It was all meaningless.

I realised too late that I had muttered the word 'meaningless' aloud.

"What was that? Mr Greggs jumped on my mumble quicker than I could cover it.

"Meaningless?" he repeated.

No. I could not allow him to stumble on the truth I knew. It was mine. Mine alone.

"Loretta, you must understand that we cannot let this go on. At some point we need you to take control of your own life once more."

I was in control. Perfectly. But I knew there was no point telling him, because he would not understand, and he would not believe me.

"How are things at home?" he asked after a long silence in which he realised he wasn't going to get a response out of me.

"Just fine."

He didn't believe me either.