Scar Red

41: The Turning Point

It took a while before my eyes could concentrate on the material waving before my face. Inhaling sharply, I blinked severally, my grasp tightening on my book.

Her head was cocked to the side as she took in the aftermath of my dazed state. She had seen me in a most vulnerable condition; spaced out and I couldn't help the visceral feelings of uneasiness that encompassed my being.

"Miss Carina, did you look like that because you were lost in your book?" Anaïs inquired slowly. She had finally decided to start addressing me with 'Miss'.

Normally, I wouldn't mind being addressed without any titles but Anaïs found it hard to talk to her elders without them—apparently, that was how the nuns trained them.

I watched the girl's brows furrow as she was in serious thought before she spoke, "When I see Sister Beverly with a book she has a different look though... And if I came towards her she would look up immediately but you didn't even know I was there."

I said nothing. Sometimes her little ability was annoying yet I was impressed by how she could tell the subtle differences in what she perceived.

"Sometimes Momma was like that, she would look into space and whenever I asked her, she said she was thinking about something very important…"

My hard expression softened at the mention of her deceased mother, inducing me to bite my lip guiltily.

"But I knew she was always thinking about my daddy."

"You really thought so? She could have been thinking about something else too. Something that wasn't your daddy." I mused.

"No," she asserted stubbornly. "It was my Daddy. I've never seen him before but Momma said he went on a very long journey but I'd get to see him soon." Her countenance went downcast all of a sudden.

"Poor girl, never got to see her father."

I was lucky to have my parents even though they were highly impossible sometimes. I remembered what Maureen told me before, concerning Anaïs's background and more pangs of guilt seared me.

"But maybe he's not forgotten me and he will come to see me soon." She continued, her face now radiant just as before.

I nodded encouragingly at her. "Yes, he'll probably come."

I was now seeing how she struggled to cope despite the obvious fact that her apparently non-existent father had abandoned her.

"Do you still have that locket? Can I have a look at it again?"

She rummaged through her pockets before producing the trinket she'd shown me earlier, about four months ago. Taking it, I flipped it open to really peruse the picture.

The woman was quite the beauty yet there were more differences than similarities between Anaïs and her—I struggled to see the resemblance that she claimed I shared with her mother—for example, the woman possessed a miniature mole stationed somewhere below her nose and above her lips which she didn't have.

"I'd appreciate it if you stopped using your eyes to burn holes in the side of my face, Anaïs," I said, closing the locket.

"Sorry." She placated, smiling sheepishly. "Your hair is pretty. Pretty colour."

"Right," I replied, narrowing my eyes at her.

She was weird sometimes and this was one of those times. I figured that if she was throwing compliments at me randomly, she was probably up to something.

"I've always liked your red hair and your eyes. My friend Joan has them too but you stand out." She continued.

The wind picked up a bit and I blew a few strands out of my face. "And why is that?"