Abigail’s appalled

Abigail narrows her eyes before responding. “You’re helping her?”

“Yes, I’m helping her.”

“Why? I thought you said you weren’t religious.”

“I’m not, I offered to help. She believes in it, and as a friend I want to help her,”

“As a friend?” She stands. Her brown eyes are full of scepticism. “Anissa might believe you, but I don’t. She’s innocent, no, she’s naïve. She doesn’t know men like you and what they want. I do. Men like my ex, who see women as objects, to be used. You’re not religious. You’re just using this as an excuse to get into her knickers.”

“I’m not like that. I want to help her as a friend.”

“I don’t buy it. And I’m going to tell Anissa what I think.”

“You’ve got me wrong, Abigail.”

The problem is, she hasn’t got you wrong. Not 100% wrong. Yes, you want to help Anissa as a friend. But you also want to get into her knickers. She’s a stunningly gorgeous woman; with a body built for porn, but a mind fixated on the nunnery. Her naivety might just mean you have a chance.

You could continue to push your innocence, but two weeks with Abigail tell you that such action wouldn’t work. She sees the worst in men. She’s seeing the worst in you. Nothing you say will convince her otherwise.

“I’ll show you, you’ve got me wrong,” you repeat, and the words sound weak in your mouth. You feel like you’re running away, when you’re only walking out of her classroom. The conversation hangs over you throughout your lessons.

It reaches a climax in the period between your first lesson and your second. Anissa appears. She looks nervous, ashamed, confused. The emotions highlight her large nose, her oblong face, her quivering lips.

“Monsieur Smith, can I speak to you?”

You lead her to your office, careful to keep the distance between the two of you. Too close and she flinches. Too distant and you feel small. It reminds you of your teen years, hanging away from the beautiful women, afraid to get too close. Memories you hoped had been flushed away when you’d grown up. If anything, they’re stronger now.

“Is it true? Is what Abigail told me true?”

“No. I want to help you. I promised Father Norris, I’d help you.”

“Why? Abigail tells me and I’ve seen you’re not religious. Why help me?”

“Because I want to.”

“Abigail says it’s because of sinful things. Things I don’t want to believe are true, but she knows more about men than I do.”

“Abigail has had bad experiences with men, but not all men are like that. She’s letting her own experiences cloud her judgement. Trust me, all I want to do is help you.”

You can see in Anissa’s hazel eyes she wants to believe you. You can also see the doubt that Abigail has left in them. Doubt only action will be able to erase.

“Let me help you. Let me show you Abigail is wrong. Please.”

Anissa nods. But it’s a hesitant nod. A nod that says I want to believe you, but I just can’t. That’s the best you’re going to get. You accept it.