Doe

1.

I think the world is larger than what I see every day, surely there must be lands and cities ahead of my village? This curiosity, one that I recognise in myself, is what gives me the skip in my step every day. What if today is the day when I go out? Maybe today is the day when Father decided upon taking us for a nice, exotic vacation. But I knew it was all wishful thinking. Why would a plain old, headmaster's daughter go out? There was no reason, at all!

I picked the clothes that had been left outside for air dry. Our drier broke down a couple weeks ago, and Father hadn't received his salary yet. I placed them in a clean basket and began folding them. Contribution in household chores was expected out of me, hobbies included knitting, quilting etc. none of these I had taken up by choice. Book reading was not encouraged, and I longed to read Jane Eyre, Sense and Sensibility, Canterbury Tales... such beautiful works and all I could do was stare at them through a glass cabinet which was always and I mean always locked.

Once, I had been brave enough to pluck Emma, and the pleasure of reading that ensued is one which I crave till this date. My Mother had found out, I love her, but that day I resented her. She snatched the book away from me and complained to my Father. That was her, I think the biggest weapon in her arsenal was my Father. I remember the sting of the slap to this day, it was the only time he had hit me.

The irony was suffocating. Being an educator's daughter, I was not allowed to get educated. My Father home-schooled me. Subjects and their contents were thoroughly vetted by him. I knew mathematics, some writing and a bit of science. That was all. No formal education.

Despite this, I was spoiled, just not in the way I wanted to be. My Father was middle-class, and certain things were difficult to afford, but when it came to me, all of that was out of the window. I had beautiful silk ribbons, an assortment of dresses and just about everything that a girl was supposed to desire.

I tied a bright red bow around my hair and pinched my already rosy cheeks. I walked out of my room and into the living area. My Mother sat on a settee working on a sweater for the coming Winters. I mentally droned.

"Doe, darling, come take this ball of yarn and get to work," Mother delicately snapped her fingers and got me to work. I dragged my feet and plopped beside her. I picked a bright yellow wool yarn and mentally formulated a design. I think a pretty little cardigan was in works. I sneaked a glance at her, she was blissfully unaware.

I was envious. How could Mother just not be curious? Did her heart never beat at the possibility of the many possibilities around this world? I wish I could turn my brain off like her.

"I baked your favourite Chocolate Cake, with cut up strawberries,"

And just like that, I felt guilty. Her thought process aside, she never once stopped coddling me with love. Most kids in my village called me an overgrown baby, but I wasn't to be blamed for it.

"Thank you," I whispered.

Mother smiled. I looked down at the yarn in my hand, my mind going to the cake and looked back up at her. There was a knowing glint in her eyes.

"Can I take a sliver?" I asked shyly.

"Take a hearty piece, my sweet girl," Mother giggled. I chirped and ran to the kitchen.

Just like Mother had instructed, I took a nice hearty piece of cake and placed it neatly on a platter. Mother would have my head if I scarfed it down like I wanted to. I took the plate to the dining table and in a delicate yet sophisticated manner, started to eat the cake.

If I had free reign over my life, my face would've been in the cake.

I wiped my mouth and walked back to Mom. She was still knitting, a bell rang, and I looked at my Mother. She sighed and walked to the door and opened it. Our neighbour, Glenda, stood with an anxious expression on her face. I didn't like the news she brought with it.