The Stoic

The Stoic

            Aubrey sat patiently in the chocked, dark room.  In appearance, all seemed fine.  There was nothing out of the ordinary; her dress was impeccable, her shoes a shiny black that looked as though they’d never been worn, and her long, silky brown hair was straight with just the right amount of volume.  In her perfectionism, not a thread was out of place, not a wrinkle in sight – on her face or in her clothes.  It was the way Aubrey always dressed herself, and even the avalanche of thoughts, worries, and questions plaguing her mind couldn’t take her out of the habit.

            Sitting with her back straighter than the chair’s, Aubrey let her small fingers drum soundlessly against her thigh.  It was an unnaturally mechanic movement, and one she almost didn’t notice.  It wasn’t that she couldn’t wait; at the moment Aubrey had all the time in the world, but she’d have much preferred if she hadn’t been forced into the tiny cubicle beforehand.  Out in the other room there was light instead of the thick darkness she was trapped in.  And out there, there were things to occupy herself with other than her crippled thoughts.  But, Aubrey’s mind – at least the part that still knew the difference between right and wrong – told her she deserved it.  Aubrey had a lot to think about, and even more to sort out before she let any words come out of her mouth.

            As she waited, Aubrey tried to ignore the rising guilt engulfing her nerves, tried to pretend she was as perfectly fine on the inside as she looked on the outside, but thoughts of the previous night gnawed at her conscience.  She didn’t understand what had happened, didn’t comprehend how it had happened.  It was as though her body had been taken over by a heinous demon.  The demon had been responsible for all her wickedness.

            Though the truth stared her in the eye, Aubrey refused to accept it.  Every feeling she’d experienced the night before had belonged to the atrocious monster.  The confusion, the pain, the heat, the joy.  None had belonged to her, none were her own.  She had not enjoyed the blasphemous deed.  Aubrey had most definitely not felt whole when their lips met.  Though, her smooth skin prickled at the memory.  The memory of the kiss and of Ashlynn.

            Ashlynn had been one of Aubrey’s good friends, ungodly but kind and considerate.  At least, that was what Aubrey had been led to believe.  Now, however, she saw the woman in her true light as the devil himself.  Mighty and powerful, someone who could have left even the fiercest believers trembling in their shoes.  But Ashlynn hadn’t chosen any of them; she’d decided to feast upon Aubrey.

            The small woman hadn’t expected it.  She’d gone over to her friend’s home for coffee and a conversation; it was a Friday night ritual.  But the night had been different than any before. 

            From the very beginning there was something just not right, and Aubrey picked up on it right away.  Ashlynn had seemed so nervous, like there was something really eating at her.  Thinking back on it, Aubrey thought the reason obvious, she should have realized what was happening, or at least asked about it.  But she hadn’t, she didn’t feel it was her place to pry.

            As the evening wore on, things seemed to get better.  Ashlynn had let go of her nerves, or whatever had stirred them on, and had been herself.  But, every time the two girls got too close, or accidentally touched she bit her lip or fiddled with her hair.  Aubrey had tried to get down to the root of it all, but whenever she asked questions that implied her curiosity, Ashlynn would mumbled an incoherent response or change the subject altogether.

            The awkwardness continued on the entire evening, but nothing had developed from it – until the two girls said their goodbyes.  It had been so sudden, one second Aubrey had been waving at the even more nervous Ashlynn, the next Ashlynn had been all but on her.

            It was only a kiss.  The thought had echoed through Aubrey’s shocked mind all her way home.  It was only a kiss.  A kiss she hadn’t even returned.  Certainly there was nothing wrong in that.  But alas, Aubrey’s conscience wouldn’t let her off so easily.  It was a kiss, and though the innocent gesture was often cute and romantic, it was also often shared with a member of the opposite gender.  The kiss could never be innocent or sweet or pardonable, her conscience continued, because she’d shared it with a girl.

            However, as the sleepless night had worn on, the kiss itself no longer led Aubrey’s guilt.  As she rolled and kicked and the shock began to settle down, Aubrey became acutely aware of all that had run through her mind at the moment of the kiss, apart from the confusion that had been so evident.  And what she felt scared her.

            Longing.  It was there, deep down inside her, this burning desire, this mingled feeling that having the girls lips on her own was what she’d always wanted.  It was there, behind the curtains of confusion, behind the veil of doubt, standing firm as a cornerstone.  It was there, beyond the thresholds of denial, and vulgar hate, strong and unremitting.  Aubrey blamed it on the alacrity of it all.  She’d had no time to process what had happened.  Surely she’d believed it was a man she was kissing.  But the thought disregarded itself. 

            The truth was, she had known it wasn’t a man.  The truth was, it had felt different.  And the fact that scared Aubrey the most was that she had never enjoyed a kiss more.

            That was what ate away at her, left her insides a mangled mess.  It chewed on her liver, sucked the air from her lungs.  She ought to be tortured an eternity for liking it, and two for wanting it again.

            Just as Aubrey’s hurt and anger reached their climax, she heard the noise she’d been waiting for.  Slow footsteps came closer, and a male voice boomed out through the thin, cardboard wall, “Speak.”

            Aubrey took a deep breath, knowing there was no other way.  She couldn’t hide such a thing; she had to do this.  She quickly thought the events over again, trying to put them into explainable order.  Did she understand it all?  Did she finally comprehend what had happened?  Aubrey’s final thought answered every question she’d had before.  In the end, what did it matter, the pleasure she’d found.  It may have been wrong, but she’d never let it overtake her, never let it gain control.  She’d turn it all into indifference with time.  She’d never let herself feel the sick bliss the kiss had left her with again.  And the haunting pain, which the thought of never seeing Ashlynn gave her, would eventually settle down to nothing. 

            Taking the last of her courage, Aubrey let the words out of her mouth like sand paper on wood.  “Forgive me father, for I have sinned.”