The Day I Met You

Good Enough

Author's Note: The song in Spotify's playlist under the name "The Day I Met You" (based on the short story) is Good Enough by Evanescence. If you aren't into heavy music, bear with me and that's your problem. Anyway the music is atmospheric along with the chapter in a collection and I hope you like and enjoy the first chapter of the new book! :)

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--- 30th of March, 1959 ---

The last year of 50s decade was actually just like a mere year in each decade. The late March that brought with itself the late winter that has already died on the horizon, whereas the wee days of spring have already loomed by substituting the relentlessly chilly Boston winter that has assaulted within months the Bostonians with its blizzards, minus and unbearable temperatures. Even when the winter has already died in the limbo, the late March days were yet chilly as if the frosty season hasn't utterly dissipated.

Nevertheless, today it was drizzling as if God's mild, episodical weeps poured its crystal, beehive of rain drops. A mild early spring zephyr fanned every surrounding in Boston even the exposed fleshes and hairs like wind farms. The hoary and scarcely lucid sky was clouded by swarm of clouds that have outnumbered the sole sun, which could disperse its vibrant, scintillating sun rays by bathing in dim sun light below. Fortunately, no lighting bolts jolted the ground, shaking it and resulting the horrifying storm.

The elder nun, Mother Claudia has already gathered beehive of 5 nuns, who were sufficiently prominent to welcome the priest in the grand yard of St. Andrew's church. The pious sisters of the church were sorted by their ages from the youngest to the oldest. The former licentious jazz nightclub singer was in the middle, subsequently reckoning her in between. Neither the youngest, nor the eldest.

All of a sudden, their eyes, fueled with sheer self-consciousness and inquisitiveness were transfixed on the midnight black cab which was parked by the young Monsignor as its car engine halted its recurring, monotonous buzzing in a choir. Sheer self-consciousness as they agitatingly wondered how the rendezvous with the British compatriot will pass, besides is he going to be as genial and polite as almost every priest they've encountered, regardless their back story and background. Donned in a conservatively, dark rigid cloth of chastity, concealing in an ebony shadows the sinful fragments of their impure thoughts, grim secrets of the past and the nubile, milky as vanilla fleshes that lead to the insatiable, fiendish sin. Inquisitiveness how the priest looked and how he will behave in front of the holy women.

Once the vehicle parked past the grandiose, alabaster statue with a couple of inches proximity, the car engine's buzzing subdued in the background. In the meanwhile, the British compatriot, clothed in a charcoal black blazer, a dark, rigid sweater with partly exposed alabaster collar and dark trousers got from the vehicle by locking it. He looked so young. So fresh. So handsome. The horde of women of the cloth swallowed hard especially Jude and her protégé Mary Eunice, nibbling on the silken skin of her bottom plumpish lip pensively, idly. In the corner of their eyes they scanned each feature of his appearance and manners, scrutinizing him. His well-trimmed chestnut hair, capping his head. The light, milky as lily skin tone, sheening his handsome, youthful facial features like Christmas tree's glimmering lights, adorning discerningly the holiday, prominent furniture.

"Sisters, that's Father Howard! The new one." The Mother Superior emphasized his ecclesiastical title by motioning his thin, elderly-like pale lips when the priest shared scarcely a couple of inches proximity with the much older woman. He was the center of the attention from Sister Mary Eunice up to Sister Agnes. The Bostonian was struck by his physical facial features' magnetic, photogenic charisma, oozing of him like serpentine fatal venom, spat on the recent prey.

"Good day, Sisters! It's enormous honor of Mother Claudia allowing me to introduce myself in front of you." The honeyed, nonchalant monologue of the holy man commenced as Jude and Mary Eunice's flimsy hearts violently drummed in their ribs cage, verging to spring up like a toy-out-of-the-box once if they had got their chances to meet in person Timothy, handshaking for a split second by moving on the next pious member of the clergy. Slight, sheepishly boyish smile parted his lips in a carving. "As the Mother Superior mentioned I'm a new to St. Andrews by having the ginormous pleasure to be part of this church and work together with the sisters even doing sacred missions together for the sake of the church and the people. I'm Father Timothy Howard." In the interim, the Bostonian chewed on her lower lip girlishly, whilst she was listening attentively his monologue as her protégé exhaled sharply, catching her off guard.