age, no matter what her position in life was. Could be because I was on the younger side of the curve and I made him feel comfortable.
I lowered my brow and gave him a incredulous stare. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, well...” he smiled. “...you’re so young, you know?”
“Okay, go on...”
“I can relate with you...that’s what I’m trying to say, I guess.”
E’tienne’s neck was sunken into his tense shoulders and he placed the rigid, interlocked fingers of his large hands on the table.
“Is there something wrong?” I asked.
E’tienne tugged on the collar of his pristine, Adidas-brand T-shirt. “It’s hot in here, do you mind if I ask you to take a walk with me outside?”
Once again, I looked at the table with Father Anton and Sister Janice before getting up. They were entranced in conversation. My heart began racing uncontrollably and I felt my blood pressure rising, but in a good way. You know, the type that flushes your neck and your cheeks and gives you a slight euphoric rush.
“Okay, I’ll step out with you—but just for a little bit. I need to get to sleep soon. Sister Janice told me I have to be awake at five in the morning to help build another bungalow,” I reminded E’tienne.
We both stepped out of the dining hall. I didn’t realize how loud it was in there until we exited into the quiet, temporarily vacant village. A bluish hue blanketed the village as it absorbed the glow coming from the remarkably large full moon.
E’tienne kept his hands in his pockets and walked with a submissive, hunched posture. He looked like a puppy dog, with his sagging brows and the constant licking of his pursed lips. I kept looking over my shoulder; paranoid over the possibility of someone seeing us and letting their imaginations run wild.
“E’tienne, what’s the matter?” I asked. “It seems that there is something eating you alive.”
He looked over his shoulder as well and then took another sharp glance behind the last bungalow before we walked into a wide open yard which the missionaries set up as a soccer field.
“I have a confession to make, Sister.”
“Did you go to Father Anton about this?”
“No, I can’t..,” he said, shaking his head.
“Why me?” I said, with slight worry. I wasn’t comfortable with deep-seated confessions, because I wasn’t comfortable with the skeletons in my own closet.
He stopped mid-gait and turned to me. “You cannot tell anyone, ever, okay?”
Here was a chiseled athlete, a well conditioned warrior who was instantly vulnerable. Few men on earth possessed his confidence. But there he stood in front of me, seemingly with the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. His unguarded stance; arms swinging gently at his side; his blue eyes welling with liquid anguish. Through his thick, soft lips arose a voice which was an octave above a whisper. His revelation fluttering into my ear. “I purposely fixed games, big games.”
“How do you fix games? Like with a wrench?” I asked, perplexed at the jock vernacular.
“You don’t know what fixed means?” he asked. “Maybe my English isn’t good.”
“No, it’s just that I don’t follow sports, so I don’t know what you mean. I think I might have heard it before.”
“I manipulated events in the game to make money for myself and people who bet on a certain outcome of a game.”
I immediately stepped away from our overestimated comfort zone and gasped. “You what?”
“Please sister, help me. It’s eating me inside.”
“Why would you tell me this, how can I fix something like this? The children...the children that look up to you. What if they found out?”
E’tienne turned around and began pacing the field with his arms crossed and his head transfixed on the stars above. I shook my head and had no clue how to handle such a revelation. Was it possible to lie with your body? He didn’t lie with words but rather with the play on the field.
“Why would you do this,
I lowered my brow and gave him a incredulous stare. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, well...” he smiled. “...you’re so young, you know?”
“Okay, go on...”
“I can relate with you...that’s what I’m trying to say, I guess.”
E’tienne’s neck was sunken into his tense shoulders and he placed the rigid, interlocked fingers of his large hands on the table.
“Is there something wrong?” I asked.
E’tienne tugged on the collar of his pristine, Adidas-brand T-shirt. “It’s hot in here, do you mind if I ask you to take a walk with me outside?”
Once again, I looked at the table with Father Anton and Sister Janice before getting up. They were entranced in conversation. My heart began racing uncontrollably and I felt my blood pressure rising, but in a good way. You know, the type that flushes your neck and your cheeks and gives you a slight euphoric rush.
“Okay, I’ll step out with you—but just for a little bit. I need to get to sleep soon. Sister Janice told me I have to be awake at five in the morning to help build another bungalow,” I reminded E’tienne.
We both stepped out of the dining hall. I didn’t realize how loud it was in there until we exited into the quiet, temporarily vacant village. A bluish hue blanketed the village as it absorbed the glow coming from the remarkably large full moon.
E’tienne kept his hands in his pockets and walked with a submissive, hunched posture. He looked like a puppy dog, with his sagging brows and the constant licking of his pursed lips. I kept looking over my shoulder; paranoid over the possibility of someone seeing us and letting their imaginations run wild.
“E’tienne, what’s the matter?” I asked. “It seems that there is something eating you alive.”
He looked over his shoulder as well and then took another sharp glance behind the last bungalow before we walked into a wide open yard which the missionaries set up as a soccer field.
“I have a confession to make, Sister.”
“Did you go to Father Anton about this?”
“No, I can’t..,” he said, shaking his head.
“Why me?” I said, with slight worry. I wasn’t comfortable with deep-seated confessions, because I wasn’t comfortable with the skeletons in my own closet.
He stopped mid-gait and turned to me. “You cannot tell anyone, ever, okay?”
Here was a chiseled athlete, a well conditioned warrior who was instantly vulnerable. Few men on earth possessed his confidence. But there he stood in front of me, seemingly with the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. His unguarded stance; arms swinging gently at his side; his blue eyes welling with liquid anguish. Through his thick, soft lips arose a voice which was an octave above a whisper. His revelation fluttering into my ear. “I purposely fixed games, big games.”
“How do you fix games? Like with a wrench?” I asked, perplexed at the jock vernacular.
“You don’t know what fixed means?” he asked. “Maybe my English isn’t good.”
“No, it’s just that I don’t follow sports, so I don’t know what you mean. I think I might have heard it before.”
“I manipulated events in the game to make money for myself and people who bet on a certain outcome of a game.”
I immediately stepped away from our overestimated comfort zone and gasped. “You what?”
“Please sister, help me. It’s eating me inside.”
“Why would you tell me this, how can I fix something like this? The children...the children that look up to you. What if they found out?”
E’tienne turned around and began pacing the field with his arms crossed and his head transfixed on the stars above. I shook my head and had no clue how to handle such a revelation. Was it possible to lie with your body? He didn’t lie with words but rather with the play on the field.
“Why would you do this,
Similar Books
