"You better be getting ready up there, Anastasia!" Mama's accent muffled her words, her voice carrying through the house. The world spun as my eyes rolled, brushing out my fringe and clipping back the loose hairs. It's good enough for Papa's new country club… right? Mama will have my head if it isn't. We are late.
My hands ran down the ruffles of my skirt, shoes slipping right onto my feet as I rushed towards the door. Papa waited outside silently, wristwatch smothering his face.
We each rushed into the car, Gabriel sliding into the front seat and starting the engine with a roar. Trees rushed past us, the green growing as we turned off the main roads and up a long driveway. Gorgeous firs and blueberry bushes followed us up to the magnificent manor, an expanse of healthy green grass flowing across the horizon.
Mama and Papa's jaws dropped, awestruck at the country club. Once they recovered, the raving began; about how spacious the fields were and their plans for Sunday golf. A glint of annoyance flashed through Gabriel's eyes, a scoff forcing itself from his chest as the car pulled in and parked.
Mama's hand squeezed my thigh for attention, eyes sharp as they dug into my skin.
"Ma fille! Your Papa and I have someone we would like to introduce to you at the club! A friend that isn't a book will be nice, oui?" Again the world spun as my eyes rolled, dread weighing down my stomach the longer we waited. The moment we were ready, I bolted out of the car, plans of running into the fields and disappearing from the 'friend' my mother planned to push onto me soaring. No sooner did the door open did Mama's arm hook around my own, trembling with joy as we began towards the enormous front doors.
Papa was oblivious to my discomfort, his eyes jumping around the lobby to absorb everyone. He calculated everyone's worth from their outfits alone, ignoring the architecturally beautiful building. His eyes glazed over the ornately carved roof and the raw wood beams across the walls, judging the women's fitted dresses and the men's well-tailored suits.
"Now, ma chérie, stand tall, smile wide, and let your Papa do the talking. These people are très riche, so best behaviour. I'd hate to get a bad name here on our first day, again…" Her eyes stripped me down, putting me in my place with her stern glare before pulling me through the lobby.
We passed by drawing rooms and restaurants, each stacked with people as we travelled to the furthest corner of the building. Eyes fell on us as we walked through the halls, Mama's calm facade mirroring my own. You'd assume from their sour expressions that we were Americans, but they faded in seconds, returning to their gossip and golf. I was dragged off to a middle-aged, visibly wealthy man, with two boys standing proudly next to him. Beside them was another family, a girl close to my age, smooshed between her beaming parents.
"Oh, Mister and Mrs Arguette! How lovely of you to join us, bonjour!" Papa cringed at the man's pronunciation, hiding behind a smile and handshake. The other family welcomed us with curt nods, their silence intimidating compared to the noisy environment.
"Bonjour impoli, lovely to meet you too," Holding back snickers was near impossible, Mama and I struggling severely to hide our laughter behind warm smiles. We subtly shuffled towards the other family, leaving Papa alone with the ignorant man and his likely equally ignorant sons. Nodding in greeting, Mama pressed a gentle kiss against the wife's cheek, bright colour flushing for a moment before fading away.
"A pleasure to meet you, Mrs Belle. My dear André has spoken much about your modelling life. He speaks so fondly of your career," Mama's over-the-top personality pulled Mrs Belle from her shell immediately, a small chuckle buzzing out as she corrected Mama with, "Oh call me Ella, please,".
Conversation blossomed immediately, offering the perfect opportunity to disappear. Alas, Papa's hand wrapped around my arm, hoicking me into his conversation.
"This is Anastasia, my only daughter. She is magnifique, is she not?" Ah, I understand now. You've got to be kidding me.
Sickness washed over me as the rich man started bragging about how early he 'snatched' his wife. He wouldn't shut up about how imperative it was to get girls when they were young, throwing around reasons of 'they're more fertile' and 'they haven't roamed around'.
That was followed by an offer that scared me.
"My Johnny boy sounded quite intrigued by your girl earlier, I must say," I gulped, queasiness twisting my stomach into knots until I snapped. "Perhaps she'd be interested in a husband herself? Take her off your hands?" Papa nodded along, ignoring every discussion we had before about my detestment of marriage. Discussions about all the wonderful things that would come about with our marriage spinning through the air, giving me enough space to rush away.
Not a single person stopped me along the way, thumbs twiddling behind my back and nose pointed to the sky. In moments, I found the library, fingers trailing over the spines and releasing the musty aroma of aged books. A bitter bite of coffee wafted from behind the bookshelf, flaring my nostrils with intrigue. My fingers wrapped around a book without checking the title, snatching an unattended mug from the table and strutting towards a chair. The warm ceramic mug tickled my fingers, the air still cold and crisp from the winter. A secluded chair, hiding behind some bookshelves in the corner, pulled me in. Everything faded away as my eyes caught onto a pretty face, however, my mission momentarily forgotten.
She sat alone, absorbed by the plush armchair, legs tucked away beneath her and body draping over the arm. Her curly, strawberry-blonde hair curtained her eyes, hiding away the identity of such an alluring soul. The pages settled weightlessly on her fingertips, just waiting for the chance to flip over.
She called to me.
Despite the urge to learn all her secrets – and talk to someone new – confidence escaped me, pushing me to the secluded corner. Plush fabric absorbed me, tucking away all the insecurities that threatened to weasel out of me.
Coffee scalded my tongue and paper graced my fingertips, an uncomfortable emptiness clouding my mind. It was impossible to think of anything with images of her floating through my mind; her body curled like a kitten under a warm blanket; her hair curtaining the performance of a lifetime; her skin smooth as my father's silks, embellished with constellations of freckles.
She may have just been sitting and reading, but she was magnetic.
The urge to talk to her loomed over me, an expanding shadow that absorbed all of my attention. I could barely focus on the words, ink pulling off the page and drawing pictures of the distraction. Frustration boiled inside me, slamming the book shut and sliding onto the floor, crossing my arms like a child in a tantrum.
I can't focus, all because of a pretty girl?! Why am I so distracted by this? I scoffed hard at the notion, pulling the coffee mug to my lips and slurping down the harsh liquid. My eyes wandered around as I sipped, peeping over the edge of the rim to find two piercingly beautiful jade eyes watching me intently. Strawberry blonde hair no longer hid her face, revealing the striking beauty that hid beneath.
My heart hammered against my ribs, blood rushing to my head and leaving me dizzy. She was the image of perfection, the baby pink of her dress sweetening her hair and contrasting her eyes magnificently.
All of this was enough to snatch my breath away, but she resuscitated me with her voice as she hummed a question.
"Excuse me, but I think you may have grabbed my mug by mistake?". Her brilliance caught me so off-guard that the situation didn't register for a moment, realisation crackling across my mind as I dragged the mug away. I spun the shape in my hand, the impeccable colour blending into her irises, pools of jade dragging me down into the depths of my emotions. She stared me down the whole time, searching for an answer as I swooned.
Then my brain kicked into gear, processing what she was expecting me to do.
"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't notice. I was distracted–" My body shot from the chair to hand back the small mug to the pretty girl. Fear thrust my hands to my side, lips pulled thin and blush bright across my cheeks. She seemed amused at my response, smirking the slightest bit as her eyes trailed along my body. My bones shivered as her jade eyes passed over every inch of my body, leaving me feeling exposed.
"I noticed… My name is Evangeline Belle. Could I request yours?" Curiosity laced her voice, her hands crossed courteously behind her back. Nervousness suffocated me, despite the fact all she requested was my name. But her name… it sounded familiar.
"Anastasia! Oh mon dieu cette fille est inutile! Anastasia, I will burn your books if you don't come right now!" Mama's voice echoed through the library hall, rattling my brain and snapping my neck towards the doors. Hurriedly, my fingers wrapped the spine of the book and slapped it on the coffee table, rushing to the door as fast as I could.
Footsteps followed me down each aisle of books, but there was no time to check if it was Evangeline. Reaching Mama at the front door, I suddenly wished that Mama had just burnt my books, anyway. I was frozen, unmoving from the spot beneath my feet, fearing the return home. Her rage faded, however, when the footsteps following me came to a halt. The glowing red cheeks and creased brow became her 'everything's okay' face, smoothing out and fading back to its regular tone.
"Oh, Evangeline, your mother just went off looking for you, too. Oh, you must have met Anastasia whilst you were here! Sorry, ma fille, I didn't realise you were talking with Evangeline, I wouldn't have yelled." She continued to apologise to all the other library residents, her French rambling growing more panicked. "Oh, Anastasia, you need a leash sometimes. I'll leave you girls to talk," She wandered out, brushing her hair back into place more with each step.
A sigh of relief escaped my lungs. My shoulders relaxed, and my head fell backward as ease flooded my body. A relaxed state washed over me, before straightening again, turning around to find Evangeline still waiting behind me.
"Anastasia… not quite the name I would imagine for someone who's French, but it certainly is beautiful." Her eyes continued to track and analyse me, but this time, she was trying to learn, not judge.
"Does it sound more French when you hear Anastasia Aurielie Arquette?" She cocked her head, surprised as I walked past her and down the poetry aisle. Evangeline followed me, her footsteps small, yet keeping up with my longer strides.
She followed silently to the poetry aisle, watching over my shoulder while my fingers dragged along the spines. Each of the spines was rough and used, but that should never be something that deters people from a book. As Marie always says, "A rough book is a book well read. A book well read is a book well loved. To love a book is to embrace its roughness."
Many of them I had read before, existing as a part of my personal library, so they didn't interest me as much. Soon, however, I found something new, with fresh pages and a spine untouched. My fingers traced over the lettering across the cover, the swooping words reading, 'Dr. Johnson'. Why not? I pulled the book out, feeling my hand drop down with its weight.
"Poetry fan?" Evangeline queried, her head resting over my shoulder as she, too, read the cover. I nodded, heading for the same corner we inhabited before my mother interrupted. Evangeline continued to follow behind me, her silence nice but concerning. I don't like silence, it's far too still.
She swooped her cup up along the way, the still-hot liquid sloshing along the rim, although much lower now that we'd both taken sips of it. As my butt settled into the chair to read Dr Johnson, she swooped up my discarded book and began to read it.
We sat there, silent, reading and sharing Evangeline's cup of coffee for about thirty minutes before she spoke again.
"You are shorter than I imagined," My interest jerked, pulling me out of the book and into the real world again. "I just mean that when Mum was telling me what your mother said about you, she described you as 'tall, strong-minded, sharp-tongued and poetically philosophical'," The hair of my eyebrow practically jumped off my forehead, intrigue pulling at my attention. "So I guess I just imagined you taller."
I scoffed at the strange comment, the fact that her mother had told her about me sending butterflies through my stomach. That was unacceptable, and the only way I could alleviate the fluster was to change the topic.
"At least your mum told you about me. My Mama just said, 'You need some friends that aren't from books' and walked me towards your family." Evangeline laughed lightheartedly, closing her book and placing it to the side.
"How do you think your Mama would have described me if she had told you about me more than ten minutes before we met?" Evangeline pressed, leaning forward. Her dress pooled across the floor, the baby pink colour matching the soft blush on her cheeks. They almost hid her baby freckles, but they were still there, speckled across her high cheekbones and slender nose.
"I have only been talking to you for the last twenty minutes," if that. "None of that told me anything about you other than that you're pretty and like reading. If we are basing these off appearance, though," I started, carefully placing a serviette between the pages of the book and placing it on the floor.
"I would say you are conservative. You ramble and talk more when you're comfortable with people, but you put all of your efforts into meeting everyone else's expectations, no matter what. You prefer dogs over cats because of their engaging personalities, and you plan to be a mother because that's what your upbringing led you to believe you should do. Would that be right, darling? Anything I missed?" Evangeline giggled at the nickname, her shoulders exposing her discomfort.
She didn't express it – proving me right in that aspect – and continued laughing about each of my observations. Then, through the small giggles, she roughed out, "My turn? I promise I won't use anything my Mum already told me,"
I nodded along, giggles bubbling up from her constant laughter. She collected herself slowly, anticipation growing as I admired her fringes curls, dancing across her forehead.
"Okay, so you're not a people person. You prefer books and animals rather than a person, but when you meet someone who you connect with, you completely open up. You enjoy going outside, so when you have to be inside a building, you prefer to stay near a window or door. Because of that, you idolise birds, since they're free to do what they want in the real world. You value freedom, so I'm guessing you can't be yourself around people."
Her accuracy left me breathless, her hands reaching through my chest to grasp my heart. Most people just label me as quiet and reserved before pushing me past my limits to find a sharp tongue hiding away.
But instead of explaining the mess that was my relationship with my parents, I shook my head exhausted, huffing out a harsh chuckle with a small "wow." Evangeline and I just sat there gazing at one another for a moment, coming down from the high of our conversation and resting in a gentle, silent lull.
Evangeline fell into a conversation about how God judged each person and built them to be understood, saving people from useless endeavours of mistrust. Stories of her parent's expectations and everything their church would say filled the air, but there was one thing hanging on my mind.
God is a man so ignorant, he may see a man who risks his soul and names him a sinner for his love.
Evangeline's soft voice fell and faltered, noticing that I had lost focus through her rambles. Her hand reached out to touch my knee, the touch sending a shiver up my spine.
"Evangeline… You talk about God a fair bit. Are you Catholic?" Shifting the topic gave me some control back, and moved the focus from just me to Evangeline. She nodded, straightening up and sitting back against the wall more as she told me which church she went to. My head shook solemnly, fear washing over me at the possibility of a disagreement. People were rarely fond of my disbelief of overarching powers – particularly deities.
But she shocked me.
"I am Catholic, but the whole idea seems a bit silly, don't you think?" Her eyes glowed with a passion that drew me closer, her muscles eased and her smile welcomed me to the conversation she could sense I was hoping to have. "A man in the sky, watching over us and judging every decision we make? Sounds a bit like Santa Claus, doesn't it?" We both giggled at the absurdity of the connection, a significant starting point for the endless questions that were bound her way any minute. And the conversation streamed on from there, her religious insight contrasting my philosophical questions wonderfully.
She would ask me questions and answer appropriately when I proposed my own, the both of us bouncing off one another's ideas like our friendship dated back millennia. Her hand would rest on my shoulder or knee and my arm would sling across her shoulders like a less-fantastical feather boa. Everyone ignored us, leaving us to our little corner of paradise for another hour or two, weaving around us like cars around traffic cones - that was before Mrs Belle came around to interrupt our fun.
"Evvie? Darling, are you somewhere around here?" Evangeline's head perked up, her hands falling back into her lap, just as mine slipped away from her shoulders, pulling into my stomach. "Oh, there you are! Oh, this must be the lovely Anastasia I've heard so much about. You are just as beautiful as your father said you were." Mrs Belle's hand reached towards me, waiting for a handshake, but sometimes messing with people a little is better. So, instead, I stood up and kissed each of her cheeks, a smile stretched from ear to ear as the same flush that coated her cheeks earlier dusted them again.
"Lovely to meet you, too! Evangeline speaks so fondly of you. You sound like a wonderful mother," I pulled away sharply, reaching for Dr Johnson and excusing myself to return it to the shelf. They murmured to one another as I walked away, which left a smirk cracked in the curves of my cheeks.
A feeling washed over me that left my skin cold. I could almost tell, from that feeling alone, that the time Evangeline and I will spend together will be magical.