Per

Hi. Here's your story. Sorry it's so late, I expected to be done with it a week ago. So you better like it because it was hard. And you're not getting another one until at least Christmas. Despite all the work it took, I'm not sure if I like it or not. I suspect this happens because I will insist on writing about things I know almost nothing about. And in ways I'm not very good at. Thoughts?

This was inspired in part by a story by Katherine Mansfield, The Garden Party. And in part by a poem by Susan Elizabeth Howe. But it's not really like either of those.

Per is a Latin word meaning through. I'm not sure why it's the title of this story. It just is.

 __________

Per

        “Stephanie!” her mother called. “Stephanie! Come over here and hold these please!”

        “Mom, I keep telling you to call me Stevie!”

        “Just get over here.”

        Stevie put her book down on the bench and walked over. She grabbed the long sunflower stems in her mother's arms and held them upright.

        “Thank you, honey,” her mother said, tying stems to posts with twine. “These poor flowers were looking pretty sad after last night's storm. And as for your name, Stevie is a name for a little boy and you are a young woman. I named you Stephanie and that's what I'm calling you. That's good, thank you.” Stevie released the flowers, which remained upright, bobbing their heads cheerfully. “There. Now, take this bag, I want you to pick up all the fallen leaves and branches on the lawn while I work in the flowerbeds.” Stevie pouted. “Don't you look at me like that, tomorrow is Sunday and the garden's got to look nice for church. And don't forget the cemetery. Go on.” 

       Stevie pouted again but took the bag. There were definite downsides to living in your father's church, she thought, and this was one of them. At least she had been too young to help her father actually build the church. Although, she reflected, even if she had been older, she had enough burly male cousins for her rather old-fashioned father to build it without the help of his delicate daughter.

        Stevie caught a few hummed bars of a hymn from behind the rosebushes and smiled. She had put on the pout mostly for appearances; she really liked working in the garden with her mother. She began to hum along.

        After a few verses, Stevie had worked her way down to the bottom of the hill, out of range of her mother’s music. She hummed to herself as she pulled some weeds from around the iron fence posts. Suddenly she noticed a low rumbling providing a counterpoint to her soft soprano. She looked up just as it resolved into the roar of a motorcycle. It was a black-haired boy, a few years older than her, speeding past on a black motorcycle. He caught her eye and winked. She blushed. How odd, she thought as the noise of the bike faded. I guess he caught me staring.

        Suddenly the almost-silent rumble crescendoed. It was the same boy, and he rode back and stopped beside the fence, directly in front of Stevie. She gawked at him.

        “Hey,” he said. “What’s a cute girl like you doing behind a church fence on a Saturday afternoon, huh?”

        “Uh, no, I mean, we live here. M-my father’s the preacher.”

        “Yeah? Strict daddy?”

        “I – I guess.” She was blushing again. Who was this? Why was he talking to her?

        “So probably no boyfriend? No wild times?”

        “Um, no?” She barely knew what was happening. For some reason she was thinking about how unnaturally dark his hair looked against his pale skin.

        "So do you want to go out with me? I know a couple places that aren’t too crazy for a preacher’s daughter.” He grinned.

        “What?” Stevie thought her face might be on fire. She must look so stupid, she knew it.

        “Can I take you to dinner or something? You’re really cute. I like you.” A wisp of awareness drifted into Stevie’s mind. He was asking her on a date. He thought she was pretty. He was very handsome himself. He was exactly the sort of boy her parents would hate.

        “Oh, I couldn’t,” she said. “My parents…”

        “Come on,” he said, grinning. “You’ve never done anything your parents wouldn’t like? That’s part of being young! And I’m not such a bad guy. You might like me.” He did have a very likable smile.

        “Oh, I know, it’s just, uh – why are you asking me?” the question burst out unwanted. “You don’t know me. I’m just some random girl.”

        “Why am I asking you out? Well for one thing, sweetheart, you’re gorgeous. I’ve got a thing for blondes and you have the prettiest hair I've ever seen. For another, well, I don’t know exactly. You have something, I’m not sure what. But something. Like a star, you know? Stars are just dots, little yellow dots. It’s that something that makes them special, yeah?”

        “Th-thank you,” Stevie said. She didn't know what else to say.

        “Does that mean you’ll go out with me? I want to talk to you without a fence between us.”

        She almost wanted to say yes. Would it be wrong to say yes? “I couldn’t. I like – I mean, my parents – you’re – I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

        “Well, sweetheart – hey, what’s your name, anyway?”

       “Stephanie,” she said. ‘Stevie’ sounded so childish in front of him.

       “Stephanie,” he smiled. “I’ll see you around, Stephanie.” He started his motorcycle and roared away, leaving Stevie as breathless as if she had just finished a race.

        She came through the door and up the stairs much later, her mind still racing through each word he had spoken.

        “What’s wrong, honey?” her mother asked. “You look so flushed.”

        “Oh, nothing. It’s just hot outside.” Her mother’s eyebrows lowered slightly. She rinsed flour off her hands and then pressed one to Stevie’s forehead.

        “I think I’d better pick the tomatoes myself. You don’t look very well and if you got heatstroke from working in my garden your father would never forgive me. Go take a shower and lie down until dinner.”

        Stevie obeyed. The cool water slowed the feverish pace of her mind until she was able to separate the facts from her own strange feelings. There had been a boy. That was definite. A stranger. Stevie realized she didn’t even know his name. He had asked her on a date. He found her attractive. That was what had happened, she knew. By itself, was that so strange? What was it about those few minutes that had made her feel so strange? Perhaps it was fear. She didn’t know that boy – man, really – he could have been anything – a rapist, a murderer, any number of terrible things! What if she had said yes, and left with him that very minute?

       But, Stevie found, she was not afraid of that boy whose name she did not know. She found him handsome and charming despite his intimidating strangeness. She had never met anyone who looked or spoke like him. Maybe that was part of the reason she liked him. Was it the only reason? Stevie felt a jump in her throat; she had just admitted to herself that she liked the nameless boy. She felt a second one as she realized that she had no idea why.

        “Stephanie! Come and eat!” Stevie got up and walked to the kitchen automatically. She wondered for a second where the black-haired boy lived, and doubted very much whether it was anything like her home.

        “Father’s still in his study, probably still working on his sermon, so it’s just you and me tonight,” said Stevie’s mother, piling pasta and salad in front of her. “You look a little better. Are you sure you’re not feeling sick?”

        “Yes, I’m sure,” Stevie said. She took a few bites. She wanted to ask something, but wasn’t quite sure what to say.

        “Mom,” she said, “how old were you when you met Father?”

        “Oh, let’s see. I was nineteen, and he was twenty-five. Didn’t I already tell you this story? He was the reason I started coming to church.”

        “But where did you meet before then? Did you just… see each other?”

        “Oh, I guess you could say that. It was at college. My roommate was his little sister, and so I saw him every once in a while. She told me he was studying to be a preacher, so I started going where he was preaching. And it’s just gotten better from there,” she finished with a smile.

        "Ok… but did you have any… boyfriends, before that?”

        “Heavens, yes!” Her mother laughed. “Not that I want you following my example. What’s the sudden interest in my love life?”

        “Well, I don’t know. It’s – I guess it’s just that I’m seventeen and I’ve never been on a date or had a boyfriend. I’ve never even really met any boys my age. And just seeing a few of them at church once a week isn’t the same.”

        “Stephanie, if you feel like you need more of a social life, and want to switch to public school, I completely understand.”

        “No, I like being homeschooled,” Stevie said. “And I do have friends. But is it normal… I mean, am I…”

        “Stephanie, if you’re worried because you think it’s weird that you’ve never had a boyfriend at your age, let me tell you, you have nothing to worry about. Teenage years are not the time for serious relationships. You're just not ready for that yet. There will be a time to go on dates and meet boys, but it isn’t now.”

        “I know all that,” said Stevie. “But, I’ve been here all my life, and then I’ll go to college, I guess, and I was just wondering… what am I going to do with my life?”

        Her mother looked at her with a soft smile. “I don’t know, Stephanie, but whatever it is, it will be your choice.”

        Stevie shut her bedroom door behind her and sighed. Beneath her, she could still hear the low murmur of the last few people shaking hands with her father and leaving the church. She had noticed that many of them were congratulating him on his excellent sermon, but she could not seem to remember what it had been about. She had been thinking about the nameless boy and his offer. She still had not figured out the strange feeling he gave her. However, she knew instinctively that it was of the utmost importance, either a terrible sin or a high and holy calling. She thought that if she only knew what it was, she could make her choice. Was it really love? It felt nothing like the love she had for her parents and friends. Still, maybe romance was different. Rebellion? It might be, she thought, but if it was, it was a very strange rebellion indeed. Fear? Frustration?

        Stevie sighed again. Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself. What makes you think it’s that important at all? What does it matter what I think about him? I’ll never see him again anyway. I should just forget the whole thing. Feeling slightly better and quite a bit worse, she sat down on her bed and began to unbutton her dress.

        “Hey, looks like I got here just in time.”

        Stevie jumped to her feet and whirled around at the same time, tripped, and fell backwards. There, perched on her windowsill like a black bird, was the boy who had talked to her yesterday. His black hair was wild and had somehow got feathers in it. She only managed to avoid screaming by virtue of the fact that she was shocked speechless.

        His bold grin faded into a look that was almost sheepish. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He leapt down and stretched out his hand to help her up. He was not wearing the jacket he had yesterday, and Stevie saw a large tattoo of a tree spreading its branches over his forearm. She scrambled to her feet without touching it.

        “How the – how did you get in here?” she demanded.

        “Came through the gate, didn’t I? It’s not exactly locked.”

        “You – are in – my – room!” If her father knew he would be furious.

        “Oops, sorry about that.” He hopped back onto the windowsill. “Didn’t mean to be improper.” His grin was back. Stevie’s thoughts were muffled by a confusion so intense it was almost anger. Maybe it was anger, maybe she hated this boy who had pushed himself uninvited into her life.

        “How did you get in here?” Her voice sounded as if she was close to tears.

        “I just climbed the tree. And –”

        “Mom’s pear tree?” There was a definite quiver in her voice now. “That’s her favorite tree, if you broke anything she’ll kill me, I’m barely allowed to touch it…”

        “Relax, Stephanie.” He smiled as he said her name. “I didn’t hurt it. I did, however, knock this down. Accidentally, of course.” He produced one golden pear and held it out to her. She didn’t take it. He smiled again and set it beside him on the windowsill. “So, would you go out with me today?”

        “No! I can’t!” Didn’t he get it?

        “Why not? Your parents? I bet they’re not so bad as you think. They wouldn’t let you go on one date? I’ll introduce myself and ask your dad’s permission and everything! I can be a real gentleman, and you are worth it.”

        “I don’t think so,” she said slowly. “Besides, it’s not just that.”

        “Come on,” he said. “I really like you. I think you like me.” He winked at her. “And I bet you never leave this hill.”

        “Yes I do!” she interrupted. He smiled at her in a way that melted her anger like snow.

        “You got to live a little. Get out, have some fun. It’s good for you, I promise. Not even preacher’s daughters can live in a church forever. I’m just asking for one date. One night. If you don’t like me after that, you’ll never see me again.” He held up his hand as if he was taking an oath.

        “I know,” she said, “and… I do like you.” She blushed. He grinned. She took a step toward him and looked into his dark eyes. “I’ll think about it.”

        “That’s all I want. See you, Stephanie.” He smiled at her one more time, then jumped from the window and slid sinuously down the pear tree.

        Stevie watched him go. Apparently he was not a problem that would simply disappear. She would have to make a choice.

        It galled her that so much he said had been right. Rarely did she leave the church and its grounds. The friends she had were all from church, and they weren’t the type to “get out and have some fun.” She did have the feeling that she was somehow missing out on what life was supposed to be. However, she knew he was wrong about one thing. Her parents would never let her spend one minute with this boy, no matter how politely he introduced himself. If she wanted to be with him, it would have to be secretly.

        Did she? Yes, she admitted, she did. And was it really so important? Like he had said, it was just one date. It wasn’t like he was asking her to marry him. Stevie had a brief, absurd vision of children with black-and-gold striped hair like tigers. She giggled. Was she taking this whole thing too seriously, she wondered? It was no big deal, really. And yet she could not help thinking that it was – not only disobeying her father, but seeing that boy again at all. She felt deep within her a conviction that if she went on one simple date, it would certainly lead to more serious things – whether good or bad.

        She walked over to the window, shut it, and locked it. Then she picked up the pear that he had left. It was smooth and perfectly colored, an even gold almost the color of her hair. She held it in both hands, feeling its gravid weight and shape. She took the pocket knife on her dresser and cut the pear in half sideways, and examined the delicate five-pointed star formed by the seeds. Perhaps a minute passed. Then she carefully picked out the seeds and placed them in a line on the windowsill. She would plant them in her own garden, later. She sliced the pear and ate it as she stared out the window, past the gate and down the empty road.

        When he came the next day she was waiting for him at the bottom of the hill. He stopped his motorcycle and smiled at her through the fence.

        “Hey there, Stephanie, sweetheart, star,” he said. “Will you go out with me today?”

        “Yes,” said Stephanie, “I will. But my parents can’t know.”

        “A rebel, huh? I like that.” His eyes sparkled. “How about midnight, then? I’ll pick you up, have you back by morning, your daddy will never know.”

        “You’ll have to come to my window again. My mother will hear if I open the door.”

        “No problem. Makes it a bit more romantic, doesn’t it? Stealing away through her window, off to see a forbidden love…”

        “Just once,” she said.

        “Of course. But I hope you’ll reconsider after tonight.” His eyes and his smile gleamed.

        “Tonight? Wait – ”

        “I’ll see you at midnight, Stephanie,” he said, and roared away.

        When midnight came Stephanie was ready.

        “You look beautiful,” whispered the boy. He carried her gently down the pear tree. “Let’s go.” When they reached the edge of the cemetery Stephanie stopped. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

        “It’s so dark. Do we have to go through the cemetery?”

        “Ok, is there another gate? Another way around?”

        “N-no.”

        “Well, then, don’t be afraid. You live here. You’ve gone this way a hundred times before.”

        “Never in the dark.” It looked so very different from the garden it was in the sunshine; the graves threatening, the shadows inscrutable. He held out his hand. She took it, and walked close to him until they reached the gate. He lifted her onto his motorcycle.

        “Ready, sweetheart?” he said.

        “Yes,” Stephanie answered, and they rode away into the darkening night.