Fiction

My Story: She Just Grown Up Young…

She Just Grown Up Young…
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Natasha had cycled home after seeing Vinay at the small lifeless hamlet where he lived, and entered the kitchen of her parents’ house by the back door, where her mother was preparing lunch. Her mother moodily gazed at her, stopping the preparation of lunch.
Where have you been to? Her mother asked. Out cycling, Natasha replied, wanting to move on and up the stairs to her room.
Where did you go? Her mother said, eyeing her daughter over with a critical eye. Out for a ride in the fresh air to see the countryside, and not be cooped up here, on a sunny day, Natasha said, wanting to be done with the conversation such as it was.
Wearing that short black dress? Cycling? Her mother said, I’ve told you to put it away, it is too short for you now that you’ve grown. I like it, Natasha said.
It shows too much, her mother said, leave it out, it will fit your younger cousin. They stared at each other.
Natasha said, is that all? Can I go now?
Her mother stared at her daughter.
If I spoke to my mother like you speak to me, I would have got a good hiding, her mother said, sighing, looking away from her daughter, gazing at the kitchen wall where a clock had tick-tocked.

Sorry, Natasha said, I shouldn’t speak like that, but I’m on and it makes me moody.
Rearing of teen agers who are stepping forward towards adolescence is far more difficult for parents. One cannot let the completely free and can’t even control them tight.
Do you want lunch? Her mother said, turning away from the clock, and gazing at her thirteen year old daughter.
No, I’m not hungry, Natasha said.
Silence settled between them like a dark curtain.They stared at each other. Natasha walked off up the stairs. Her mother sighed and settled once more to prepare her own lunch.
Natasha opened her bedroom door, went in and shut the door behind her, and leaned against it. Third degree each time I go out. She walked to her bed and lay down, her shoes on the eiderdown, which her mother always told her not to do; it was her little bit of defiance, little bit of saying: up you.
Children in this age don’t wanna be in hard discipline, that doesn’t mean that they hate their elders but need to live alone with their curiosities and charm.
Vinay hadn’t wanted to. She thought he might have weakened, but he hadn’t. They’d been to the small Mandir on the hill top again; she had hoped he might have agreed to have sex with her this time on one of the narrow benches, but he didn’t. She sighed.
Waste of her morning sitting in the boring worship hoping he might. He had stared around the Mandir. She had wanted him so much she burned. She thought the second time round might be lucky, but no, he was determined not to as she was that they should. They didn’t.
She had even put on the short black dress for him. She had put her leg against his, his thigh touching hers. God’s house he had said the time before.
We can’t be here, he said.
Where then? She had asked.
He didn’t answer. That bloody Jane girl is behind it. He fancies her. The bloody virgin queen.
He won’t get into her knickers.
Iiiiisshhhh…….
Adolescence, the age of stones and storms where the one end of age is still very young and the other end is just touching the feel of being grown up.
The body is showing changes and the mind is like playing on a trampoline, hopping and flying high without fear and without any stress.
Natasha could hear the radio from the kitchen playing some Classical stuff. Her mother sings along with Asha Bhonsle on the radio.
Natasha in her room, talking to herself: God forbid. The sex book that my classmate had lent me and I had given it back after mom found it in my bag. But fortunately I had finished it. The pictures were fascinating.
Her father never saw the book, but her mother had and was fuming about it. The pictures her mother had said were disgusting. Gone now. Given back.
Natasha turned on her side and gazed at the window and the view beyond.
She wanted Vinay on the bed. She had almost that time she met him in town, and brought him back, and her mother was out shopping, and he had almost, but at the last moment, he had not, he went and she was left hot.
Birds flew in the blue sky. The tree in the garden swayed slightly, its branches waving.

She again went deep in her thoughts, If he was here now, what then? If she had managed to get him past her hawk-eyed mother, what would he have done this time? Nothing, I suppose.
But what if he had said yes? More chance of being in love, that intense love….. uffffff.
She turned onto her back and stared at the white ceiling.
The pink flowery light shade was her mother’s choice. She wanted purple.
Anyways, If he was here now, would he? She raised her legs up, her dress slipped to her waist and bare her legs.
She could pretend he was there. Beside her. She laid her hand on the eiderdown beside her. Him there. She patted the bed.

Her mother’s voice hung in the air on a high note. She imagined he put his hand on her left leg. She put her hand there. Touched. Gentle. Closed her eyes. He would lift her dress hem. She fingered the hem and lifted it. She almost had him that day. She had undressed before him to seduce him into action. He had just started after removing his shirt(or she had removed it). No like this he had said. Yes, like this she had said. He had dressed and handed her clothes to put back on.
Her mother’s voice had stopped singing.

Silence…….

She opened her eyes. Vinay was gone. The bed beside her is empty of him. Hard to pretend. He will the girl at school had said he will weaken. He hadn’t. That virgin Jane has him in her purity power.

Music began on the radio again. Her mother’s voice sang along with the singer again.

Natasha kicked off her shoes and they fell to the floor with a clunk. She lay there moody. Legs down straight. Eyes staring at the pink flowery light shade. If only he would. Here or in Mandir or in the hay barn or in his bedroom (where she had been once when he had shown her his birds’ eggs collection and fossils in a glass tank).
If only he would. If only he. If only. If. It would be good…..

©Raman
#Adolescence#self_love#parenting#MyStory#ShortStory

Hello Readers, I’m a mommy blogger, I like to write on a wide range of topics. I'm an intense writer and a vigorous blogger. I write ideological scripts in the form of Poems, Short Stories etc with feel & purpose. Venture: SHE INSPIRES or प्रेरणा is a magazine where we women encourage each other and help to proceed further towards her dreams and happiness. That's all for now.. Hope you enjoy reading here in pearlsofwords.com Regards Author

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