LiTTLE CHERiNE Book 01 - post007

A Love Written of by an Artist ***~*** Touched by Cherine's Gift

Previous Post 006

23

The next morning she was down earlier than usual, welcomed by an open door and a smile, but nothing was said about the previous day. I had to ask her. “What did your mum say about your sunburn? Did you tell her I put yoghurt on you?”

“No. She said I must not play outside today.”

“Are you still sore?”

“Yes. Are you going to put some more medicine for me?”

I found myself going out to the nearby kiosk and buying some lotion.

“Where are you sore?”

“Everywhere.”

‘Did she mean it?’ I asked myself, but quickly saw I was being stupid, she really is an innocent child and does not know what she could be implying. I treasure her innocent childishness and find I am very quickly, too quickly, getting extremely fond of her. Her outgoing nature, her naughty look when she is being impudent or cheeky, are all endearing qualities. I also found her solitary nature, her quietness, intriguing. It did not feel as if she has intruded within my inner world, becoming a part of it. Instead, it vaguely feels as if a previously dark and unknown part of me has been lit by a glow within me, enabling me to see her, there where she belongs, in a part of me which will always belong to her if I allow it, if I don’t do something incredibly stupid. As friend, I hope, forever.

Sometimes even I find the way I think odd, but then I am glad my thinking does not always flow along the same worn out grooves everyone else feels safe in. Is it any wonder I have so few friends? Perhaps a child can accept how I am without feeling critical, be just like a friend who likes me.

That day and in those that followed, I truly did not know or understand what was happening. I just knew that if I missed seeing her for a day, that day would be dull and I’d feel let down. Yet, I still miss and love Dominique. She also is a constant ache in my heart, neither of the two diminishing the other.

From then onwards, the shutters to my apartment would be opened once I was dressed and somehow Cherine timed her arrivals to the garden in time to wave to me with a bright smile and I would open for her. I always made sure she got enough liquid in the heat and put sun protection cream on her, while she in return brought some of her joy for life back into my heart - yes, joy, even if she deeply troubled me, confusing me with all I was learning about myself through her. I got to know her and I loved her childish generosity and trust in me. She was not really a spoilt little girl. She has always lived in an environment where money has value and must be used wisely. If she was spoilt in any way, it was by me. She knew ‘her’ cupboard always has her favourite sweets and chocolates. I bought games for her to play with me. I chose those I thought can improve her mind while entertaining her. I made sure I cooked good nutritional food for lunch as she does not often go up to her flat during the day.

Her nanny came down a few times, but Cherine became quite obnoxious, telling her to leave, to go away. It was obvious Cherine felt shamed by her bad manners, yet she refused to give in to her better nature, as if she had undertaken a plan which has to be carried out, whatever the cost - this has only become obvious to me through hindsight…the only kind of sight available even to the blind, though never to small-minded fools.

Finally, as I had dreaded, her mother came down to see me. I answered her questions and told her how Cherine passes her time while I work on my computer; I told her what I am feeding her (not a thing about the sweets though). I was surprised when her mother accepted what I told her without questions. We never saw her nanny at my door again and a few days later Cherine told me her mother had fired the old woman. The constant presence of Cherine each day, apart from the weekends, became a part of me and every plan I made for my immediate future; I was so used to having Cherine around I began to dread the end of summer when she would start going to school.

24

In a sense, she is not a very ‘cuddly’ little girl. She is warm natured, but too full of life to sit still for long. She is affectionate and always gives me a warm hug a few times each day, sometimes quite a sticky hug from the Greek sweets, chocolates and so on that I too liberally supply her with. It took me a few weeks to appreciate that she never does any of those little things people do that irritate each other. It did not make sense that any child could be so perfect, so I took the credit, telling myself that her sweetness has altered me, helped me grow into something closer to perfection than I had ever achieved before.

Usually, until I woke up at around ten in the morning and got dressed, she would spend some time in the sun or look through the magazines hanging from the kiosk and talk to the elderly woman who runs it. I made certain we bought all we could from the kiosk so that the woman would not stop Cherine from looking at the magazines, but I don’t think it was really necessary - it seems to me that anyone Cherine wants to be liked by, she is liked by.

Only once I was up and about would she come to the door and I would let her in for me to put the ‘medicine’ on.

“I like it when you rub me like this.”

“It’s called massage.”

At night, I would often spend hours sketching her face and body, the very act of sketching her so lovingly an occupation that troubled me, for my feelings were very unlike me and conflicted with how I think of myself. I was careful to burn the sketches every night before going to sleep, even though there was nothing indecent about them, for I thought of them as being labours of love and did not want to expose my feelings at this time.

“Would you like me to give you a real full massage madam? With nice massage oil, not medicine?” She nodded her assent. “You will then have to take off your top so that I can massage your back. This you are going to love.”

Being so young she had no reason to need modesty, it is usually just for the sake of emulating the grown-ups, I feel, that little girls wear tops at the beach. She lay on her back as I gently started to remove her top. She sat up for me to take it off then lay down again, staring at me with that intriguing little smile I cannot explain, but that fascinates me.

“You’ll have to turn over, lie on your tummy so that I can massage your back.”

It was so different massaging such a tiny body. I was careful not to use too much pressure. Actually, it was sort of weird, for the first time ever I could feel what was giving her pleasure, what was not. I had read in articles about the Far East of this, but was amazed that I was so sensitive to her. This added to my own pleasure in massaging her.

Once I had done her back fully I returned to her shoulders, tenderly kneading them, the back of her neck and up into her scalp. I massaged, gently pulling strands of hair through my fingers. Throughout I was very careful not to omit the smallest spot. From being massaged myself, I know that if a spot is left untouched that area seem to cry out to be touched; it is distracting and can spoil the pleasure of being massaged. I was being overwhelmed by feelings of tenderness for her, yet I could not see that she had done anything to give birth to these feelings in me. I explained it away by telling myself it is natural that I feel this way for a child, since children have always been special to me.

I then went down to her pretty feet, massaged each toe and gradually worked my way up the back of her legs. As I reached the top of her thighs, alternating from one to the other, she raised her bottom and pulled her shorts off.

“I’ve got my bikini on.” she murmured. I ignore her obvious wishes and started from her face, massaged her ears and went down to her shoulders again, massaging and pulling at her arms, feeling where to massage her muscles, the tiny bones. I got to her wrists and then to each finger, massaging around each tiny nail. She really loved that. She loved her palms being massaged. Then from her shoulders I massaged her chest, even more softly than I had done her back, knowing it does not have the same cover of muscles to protect the flesh over her ribs.

25

I reached her waist and rubbed her tummy. I gave a raspberry kiss to her tummy and she giggled. She was now oily all over, so I covered my bed with a beach towel.

After laying her on the bed I went and got cold drink and some chocolates. We sat on the bed, her loosely wrapped in a towel, eating and drinking, chatting a bit. I managed to get her giggling. When she’d had enough chocolate she lay down next to me. We lay like that for some time with my hands gently massaging her back and hair. I thought she was dozing when I felt her hands start to massage me also.

I needed to stop and just feast my eyes on her beauty. I turned her, and leaning over examined her face in detail. I wanted this heavenly moment to last forever.

Because it had been so intense for me, I felt I needed for these hours to be kept private, so I casually asked her to keep this day and how we had spent our time as a special secret for only the two us to share and know about. She promised and though she was such a young child, something deep inside me made me feel I have seen the future woman in her and I believed her.

What I just said, does it sound crazy or fanciful of me? Although I did not fully understand what was happening at the time, I must write of it honestly, with enough detail that my weakness for Cherine can be understood. What happened with us, the tornado of feelings that were beginning to torture me, I do not believe I could have reacted so strongly if it had been any other little girl. I have read enough to recognise that I am stunted, immature in some ways, though a bit wiser in others, but what I had and will always have, the special feelings of devotion, of my idealising her, I can now see, is a weakness for Cherine herself, because of Cherine being Cherine. Part of my problem however, was that I was also puzzled at how quickly she enslaved me.

Chapter Six

Developing at least a slight friendship between Marian and myself was an effort, but it was worth it, for it meant I could invite them out now and then and have some extra time with Cherine. On this day, I had taken Cherine and her mother out, to visit the church at the top of Lykavittos, where they could see Athens below them and the Parthenon partly shrouded in the smog which is eating away the marble treasures of Ancient Greece.

We then sat in Kolonaki Square, having ice creams and watching the high society of Athens showing off their Guccis, fancy cars and so on. Cherine had been a very good girl, hardly ever interrupting as her mother and I chatted. I tried to keep the conversation away from personal matters, but I was not really concentrating on it; I was distracted because I had an ulterior motive for inviting them today and choosing the patisserie I did, at Kolonaki Square. I was hoping Dominique would appear so that she can see me with an attractive woman. Definitely not my type - but attractive and mature. Every time Dominique had seen me I had been alone and I hated the idea that she might be feeling sorry for me - okay, I’ll admit I also hoped she’d feel a little jealous and realise I am not as pathetic a man as I see myself.

Cherine was sitting facing me. She gave a sudden audible gasp and even beneath her suntan I could see her face pale. She made as if to say something to me, her eyes suddenly smouldering, then took a quick look at her mother and kept her mouth shut. Some instinct kept me from turning round. I found something to start talking about in what I could sense was an over animated manner when Dominique walked by, next to us, with Nicko. They stopped and Nicko came to me, with Dominique trailing behind him, looking nervous. It was obvious she was not nervous about seeing me, for she darted looks around her and I realised she was afraid her new love might see her with me. I almost wished he would, but I also felt sorry for her.

I introduced them to mother and daughter, with Cherine in particular as my ‘special friend’. Cherine refused to shake hands with either of them, which got her mother upset. I immediately put my arm around Cherine and held her tightly. I knew Dominique loves kids so I was surprised when she ignored her coldly. Hoping to cut short the moment of awkwardness, I asked Nicko in Greek to meet me for supper later as I have to take the two ladies home first. I must have hashed up the language a bit, for he grinned as he said okay.

26

Nicko shocked me that night by bringing up the subject of my ex relationship with his sister. “You know it was your fault that you lost Dominique?”

I felt my indignation swamp me. “My fault? What the hell are you talking about?!”

In a serious manner, he told me, “You were too soft with her. You let her twist you around her little finger.”

His air of sophisticated superiority angered me, “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

He grinned. “You made the biggest mistake any man can make, with any woman, especially with a spoilt Greek girl.”

“And that is?” My tone was openly resentful, but he kept on grinning and ignored it.

“You showed that you loved her too much.” He paused, serious for a moment. “Why do you think my family did not object. We all saw it coming for a long time, I think before you even realised you loved her. We saw how much you loved her and how good you were for her.”

Sarcastically I threw at him, almost as an accusation, “I thought you wanted to marry her off to the son of some wealthy Greek family.”

“Ahh Robert,” he grinned, “you really do not understand us Greeks. Of course we wanted her to marry well. It would strengthen our family and her children would benefit. But we also want her to be happy. If she had loved you, we would have been happy to see you get married.”

“What do you mean if she had loved me? She did love me, not for long I know, but she did!” I was determined to cling to my belief and was angered by his observation.

“No my friend, she never loved you. You were just too dear a friend for her, she could not bear to lose you, that is why she tried to love you as a man. You should have played it cool, made her a bit jealous, maybe then she would have loved you.” He took a sip of his wine thoughtfully. “Didn’t you notice today how cold she was to that little girl? She was jealous of your friendship with her. But not, you noticed of her mother?” I sat silently thinking about it. He rested his hand on mine in easy friendship. “Robert, I wish she had loved you. You are a good man and you would have treated her well.” Again he give that special child-like grin of his. “And that way we would have kept it in the family!”

I grinned also as I recollected what he was referring to. At school, when we were both new and strangers to the culture we had been thrown into, we became friends. One day I took out my penknife, nicked myself and told him to do the same. We then swore we would always be blood brothers. Behind my grin and memories though, and my gratitude for his honesty, which I knew had been difficult for him, was a dark knot of pain which threatened to overwhelm me. I drank my glass to the bottom and re-filled it. Nicko laughed sympathetically and taking his hand off my arm, picked up his glass.

“That’s right. Let’s both get totally sozzled. Cheers.”

I don’t remember going home, Nicko must have seen to it. I woke up already sweating from the heat, my mouth tasting as if I had been using it to vacuum the carpet and my left cheek was very itchy. I realised I had gone to sleep on the floor. With a moan I remembered the previous day and night, my conversation with Nicko. Definitely not what I wanted to spend another day doing. I felt the pain and bitterness rising in me. It felt too strong for me to handle. I thought to myself, how do I stop this pain inside me. As if the thought came from someone else, I told myself, maybe if I hurt myself on the outside I will not feel the pain inside so much. It made sense.

I struggled to my feet and stood for a moment undecided. Should I go to the kitchen? No, I decided I’d go to the bathroom, a razor would be much sharper. I know I am a coward and I might not find the strength to cut myself with a knife. Then I thought, why not get in the bath. If I am lucky enough, I just might manage to cut myself deeply and bleed all my blood out and the pain will all go with it. An added benefit was, that way I would not make a mess of the flat for other people to have to clean up. Even at such a time I cringed at the thought of making others have to clean up my unpleasant messes for me.

Next Post 008

Being early days, during the first part of the book, Robert is still very much an artist and it strongly affects his thinking.
Though Cherine and her gifts change him, and his responsibilities vastly increase, weighing ever more heavily on him, till the last of my books that follow their lives, Robert in essence remains an artist.
Will this fact help him as a leader of a people who must break away from the past and find a new way to live?

I hope you enjoy reading this story of fantasy, adventure and love. Yes, most of all, always of empathy and love.