She felt dry, from the inner core of her being to her clenched fingertips. She face felt stretched and sore, too much pretending; her shoulders were tight and knotted from sleepless nights, and her ears rang from the constant advice and comments she got. It was almost too much to handle, she felt like she might scream the next time someone mentioned marriage or Matthew.
Mary stood looking out her bedroom window, the sun was setting making the rain sprayed grass glisten. Everything, every tree branch, every blade of grass, everyone stone was doing what it was supposed to do, doing it's duty, everything was effortlessly perfect.
She felt a mixture of envy and love for what she saw.
The beauty of this place, her home, was not something she noticed often, thought it happened more after the death of Pamuk. It's when you might lose something you realize how much you value it. How many times did she have to learn this lesson?
Mary knew what everyone was thinking. Why didn't she marry Matthew? Why didn't she say no if that's what she wanted? It was just Mary calculating again. "Mary, Mary, quite contrary."
She left out a sigh of frustration, it wasn't that simple. Actually at the heart of the issue she knew it was simple. Mary was scared. No, not scared, terrified. She wanted to be happy, why was life not simple?
She had grown used to the knotted, sick feeling in her stomach.
Some of her fears were small. Would she make her family happy? Would her father be happy? Those could be lived with.
Would he love her enough to forgive her dreadful mistake? Would she only open up and be honest only to be discarded like rubbish?
Mary did not open up. Mary did not let others in. Mary didn't let others see what was inside, her true self. She had learned as a small girl, that only got you hurt.
Matthew made her want to open up. But was it worth it. Surely she could be happy with someone else who did not require so much of her.
There was a soft knock at the door and Sibyl opened it up,
"Mary, dinner is ready."
Mary turned, flawless smile in place, "Thank you dear, I'm coming."