FIRST TIME - PART TWO

That following morning, my mother took the day off from work and drove us to the commercial district to do some shopping. We were on a quest to find the most becoming and flattering dress a young maiden could wear—and of course fill.

By noon, we had already found what we needed. It was a single piece black dress that reached all the way down to my feet. From there, openings on each side ran up my leg to the point just below where the hip meets the thigh. The piece was simple in its appearance, but it fit me in a flattering way, accentuating the measly curves of my adolescent body. Once I was enveloped with the snug cloth, both my body and the dress gained such richness in detail that the image in the mirror seemed quite surreal in my eyes. We also bought a pair of high heeled shoes to match, and then made our way back home.

My mother had a plan for me that she had yet to fully disclose, and while I found her actions a tad disconcerting, I also trusted her implicitly. Therefore, I followed her every instruction to the letter. Even when she prepared the largest breakfast I had ever seen on our table and proceeded to make me eat the entire thing. And from then on, things only got worse. I was thrown into the world of high heel walking with no useful experience whatsoever and a belly full to the bursting point.

Even though the task proved to be more challenging than anything else I had attempted to date—grueling even, if I were to have my saying in the matter—I had to thank the Goddess for making me a quick enough learner. In just a matter of a few of hours, I had mastered the skill of walking on high heels. Of course, anything beyond the slowest walking speed I could muster would send me tumbling down to the floor, but I still felt a degree of pride in myself.

While I tried to push the limits of my slower than slow walking technique, my mother left the room for a moment. When she returned, she was carrying in her hands two of the items my sisters and I greatly coveted. Her makeup box and her bottle of expensive perfume. The former was merely forbidden to us, but the latter was an item that had an almost fabled quality to it, since it was only seen in those rare occasions when my mother attended certain social gatherings. It was no secret that my mother disliked the pompousness of the social gatherings where—in her own words—the supposedly foremost matriarchs of Thessia converged. Therefore, she barely attended any of them.

My eyes were glued to the bottle of perfume, and I barely took notice of my mother's words. "Of my three daughters, you are the one that most resembles me, Mirala. I am certain that this perfume will suit you just as well as it suits me."

It was not until I felt my mother's hand caress my cheek that I finally looked at her face. She smiled and gazed at me tenderly, her eyes full of concern. "If you are unsure of this, perhaps we could find a different way."

Noticing that she had misunderstood my childish fascination with her bottle of perfume for fear, I quickly tried to amend the situation. "No, it's just that you brought the expensive perfume."

She looked at the bottle for a second and then her eyes returned to me, her expression of concern now replaced by what I could only describe as mischief. "Is that so?" She asked in a playful tone. "Well, if you prefer, I can bring the cheap one instead."

"No!" I practically snapped at her while trying to clumsily seize the bottle with both hands.

After struggling for a short while, my mother began laughing heartily, something she rarely did nowadays. Finding the amusement rather infectious, I could not help but laugh at the—quite frankly—ridiculous battle taking place between us.

It was my mother who finally broke the merry mood a minute later. "Mirala," She called. There still was a faint smile in her lips.

"Yes, mother?" I replied between barely controlled chuckles.

Right then, before any word even left her mouth, the seriousness that replaced her amused expression silenced every remainder of my amusement. "You do know that I love you, correct?" She asked.

I replied without hesitation. "Yes, of course I do."

"Do you trust me?"

I simply nodded my response. Of course I trusted my mother with absolute conviction, or at least I had up to this moment. The strange line of questioning and the expression on her face gave pause to my conviction for the first time in my life.

While staring into her piercing blue eyes, I suddenly felt as if this were one of those life changing events they mentioned in romantic vids. I felt as if I were standing—as the stories often went—at the very crossroads of my life. This was where everything I had come to know would change for better or for worse. The point of no return. As irony and its very special brand of humor would have it, not an hour later I would be proven to be quite perceptive.

My mother pulled a chair close and sat down on it, then she placed in front of her the small table that was beside it. Patting the top with her hand, she smiled. "Come here."

Once I had taken my place in front of her, she opened the makeup box and began appraising its contents. She then regarded my face for a second, and without any other preamble, she set to work on it.