Athénaïs's P.O.V.-
I've been especially sensitive to my hands being touched. That's because my first experience with a man grabbing my hand was nearly traumatizing for me. I was fourteen years old; my father and I were taking the train across Germany to France. The train stopped for crossover in Stuttgart; a feat that would take roughly two hours or so. I don't remember what we needed at the supermarket, but Daddy told me to go fetch something before our train departed.
I remember the store being busy and I had a bit of trouble finding whatever it is that I needed; something tells me it might have been sunscreen. But I can't be sure. Whatever it was, I joined the queue; it was fairly long but moved fast. This older man was the teller at my checkout. I didn't think much of it at the time, but he was smiling at me an awful lot while he scanned my item. The price rang up and I pulled out my wallet to dig around for the correct number of euros.
Money in hand, I proceeded to place it down on the counter for him; I don't know why I didn't just give it to him directly. To my unspeakable horror, he didn't take the cash but my hand instead. This man who looked to be in his late twenties, early thirties draped his wide, dry hand overtop mine. His fingers clenched affectionally, keeping me firmly in place for a second. And he flashed me the greasiest of grins- it was the first time I witnessed lust in anyone's expression while looking straight at me.
This was only made worse by the person's reaction behind me in line. She was clearly annoyed that I was taking so long, and what's more, she scowled at me like it was my fault. The nasty teller got no bad looks but I was the sole target of scorn- me, an innocent, fourteen-year-old girl. And no, I wasn't wearing anything revealing; of course not. Not only was I wearing a long-sleeve shirt and pants- in May, I might add- but I also had a zipped-up jacket on. I couldn't have dressed or acted more conservatively, and the people behind me were still treating it like I was the instigator.
Frightened and disgusted out of my mind, I yanked my hand away; I almost forget to take my bag, I was in such a hurry to get out of there. I arrived back at the train station almost in tears- almost. I put on a brave face and acted like nothing was wrong in front of Daddy, who bought my act entirely. I never told anyone about the incident either; it was too humiliating. That day taught me two things. One, there are predators in this world and I have to be extra-careful. And two, it doesn't matter what you are wearing or how old you are- so long as you're not a very young child. If you're a girl, there'll be those who'll blame you for any male attention of the sexual nature. It made me furious.
That's why I was so stunned when Raphael took my hand that night at the festival. It was the first time a male has touched my hand without malicious intent. I'd guarded my hands closely since that layover in Stuttgart; the last thing I wanted was a repeat of that terrifying scene in the supermarket. But Raphael showed me the other night….. not every man who wants to take my hand wants to harm me. I was saving hand-holding for my boyfriend anyway, who I knew I could trust. But if someone besides my future beau had to hold my hand, Raphael wasn't a bad contender.
"And then he said "you owe me that at least"." "No! Seriously?" "Yes! He actually had the audacity to put his arm around me. I can't believe what a creep Craig is." "Me either. I can't believe he'd treat you like that. No, wait; I can, actually." I chuckled, giving my head a small shake. "Lucky for me, I had some help out of the situation; otherwise who knows what he would have done," my mouth stated without first thinking. "Really? So you didn't go alone then?"
April's question gave me pause. Wait, what did I just say? Did I just admit I went to the festival with somebody else? Oops. Well, it's not that big of deal anyway. I'm positive that April has no idea that there's an over-sized, mutant turtle roaming about New York City; him and his theoretical brothers. Still, I had to be tactful in my description of Raphael going forward. I sat down on the edge of my bed with my phone still pressed up against my ear.
"I went with a friend. You wouldn't know him; he uh, doesn't go to our school." "Oh, reeeeeeeally? So he's "just a friend", is he?" I detected the teasing in her tone. It made me grin; I simply adored April and her playful spirits. "Yes, "just a friend". I think he'd be annoyed if I ever suggested that he was more." "That so? What's he like?" She prodded interestedly. "Oh…. he's um…. well, he's temperamental, to say the least. But he's pretty sweet, once you get to know him." "Cute?" My dear friend giggled. "In a sense. I think he's cute, but I guess it's all a matter of preference," not every woman is going to be attracted to an anthropomorphic reptile. "Do you have a picture?" "No, actually. It never occurred to me to take one," I replied honestly. "What's his name?" "Raphael," again, I found no reason to lie; she'd never meet him anyway.
The moment I said this however, there was a bang coming from April's end of the phone. "Are you ok?!" I asked, afraid she might have tripped and hurt herself. The sound of shuffling could be heard, followed by April's frantic voice. "S-Sorry! Dropped my phone. What was that name again?" "Raphael? Like the Spanish "Raphael"." "O-Oh, yeah! Yeah, sorry; it's nothing. I just thought…. But never mind; I'm just being stupid. It's impossible….. Sorry." "Is something wrong, April? Do you know a "Raphael"?" I pondered, not too concerned since I knew she couldn't have meant my Raphael. Maybe it was an old human friend of hers or something. Or a boy she used to have a crush on. "Nah, it was just something I thought of. Forget it."
Taking a page from her book, I let the topic drop. I then let out a sigh and glanced over at my bookshelf. "So what are you gonna do now?" "Just watch some Dragon Ball Z. You?" "Mmmmm, I was thinking of starting a new book. And very good choice of anime, by the way," Dragon Ball Z was one of my childhood favourites. I heard her yawn tiredly; we'd been talking on the phone for over an hour now. "Oh, you finished Candide?" "Yes, and now I need some new material." "Whatcha gonna read next?" I considered for a minute. "I think I'll read "The Sorrows of Young Werther"." "The what what?" "It's a German novel, written by the same guy who wrote "Faust": Johann Goethe." There was a pause. "Why don't you read normal books? Or at least books that weren't written three hundred years ago?" "Why have "Twilight" when you can have Voltaire?" I laughed. "Who?" "Never mind. Have a good night, April." "You too. Have a good sleep; enjoy your Werther. See you at school on Monday." "Thanks! See you then. Bye!" "Bye bye!" Click!
After plugging my phone in, I went to fetch the book from my shelf. This version was in German, but I found an English audiobook on YouTube. I liked reading books this way; it helped me work on my English while reading a novel I love. On the video went and I laid stomach down on my bed. Ah, life doesn't get better than this; the happiest grin drew across my lips. It wasn't a perfect translation, but it was still very, very good. Plus it's free; can't beat that!
[Book One. 4 May. How happy I am that I am gone. My dear friend; what a thing is the heart of man. To leave you, from whom I have been inseparable, whom I love so dearly, and yet, to feel so happy. I know you will forgive me. Have not other attachments been specifically appointed by fate to torment the head like mine? Poor Lenora. And yet, I was not to blame. Was it my fault that whilst the particular charms of her sister afforded me an agreeable entertainment, a passion for me was engendered in her feeble heart? Any yet, am I wholly blameless? Did I not encourage her emotions? Did I not feel charmed at those truly genuine expressions of nature, which, though but little mirthful in reality, so often amused us? Did I not….? But, oh. What is man that he dare so to accuse himself?]
I nearly fell off the bed at the window suddenly and quite unexpectedly opening. My head shot up to see a familiar figure climb into my room, wearing a mildly annoyed expression. He's annoyed? It was just getting to the good part of the chapter!
"How many times do I have to tell you to lock this thing? And what's that boring dribble you're listening to?"