Bluestocking

Oh! Knobs and nuts in nuns’ knickers! I mean really! I’m such a wuss! Here I am, standing outside Trinity College, freezing my tits off on a miserable Dublin afternoon when I could be snuggled up in my college rooms writing that overdue essay.

And what am I doing instead? I’m watching a petite, nut-brown Asian girl sitting on an artist’s stool. I mean, I don’t even know the girl’s name. Jesus! How many days have I been doing this? Eight? Nine? Over a week, anyway.

As Wilde’s Lady Bracknell might have said, once is unfortunate, but eight or nine times? Beyond careless.

And listen to you muttering to yourself, Romaine. Why do you always do that when you’re nervous? Oh come on, you’ve got to give it a try. Just because you seem to be to boys what a pin is to balloons, well…that doesn’t mean you’ll have the same effect on other girls. At least it’s worth a shot.

I know you’ve never been attracted like this before, but there’s always a first time, isn’t there? Look… Get real, Romaine. This girl is a little goddess and I’m just… Yes. What am I just?

It’s weather for woolies, yet my little goddess seems oblivious to the sharp winter evening. Perhaps I should dress more like her, short tartan skirt over black tights and skimpy white sweater. But that sweater clings so tight to her breasts it shows the outline of her nipples. I just couldn’t be seen like that. Poor little thing must be freezing cold. She’ll cop on to Irish weather in the end, either that or die of exposure. One of the two.

Blow out hard to release a few nerves. Breath mists in the cold air and hangs in front of me. Piss off! You’re spoiling my view.

This can’t go on. I simply have to pluck up the courage and introduce myself. Trouble is there’s not much courage to pluck. Never has been. But today I’ve a little more than usual, haven’t I? Bloody well hope so. It’s liberation day, because this morning my dental braces were removed. So today, just to celebrate, I’ve also liberated my waist-long red hair. I’m not wearing it tied back as normal, but left it to cascade where it wants. Hands are trembling slightly. Wish I could say it’s because of the cold. Take off my glasses and hide them in the pocket of my coat. I can see perfectly well without them. Only wear them to discourage others. Not today though. Today I don’t want to discourage my little goddess. It’s liberation day. Got to be.

I know what I can do. I can just walk by her and say “hello” in passing, in a nonchalant sort of way. Be cool. Dignified. Then… Well, that would be a start, wouldn’t it?

Hordes of students pass me without a word, heading in through college arch toward lectures or study, or out toward lodgings or pubs. They don’t notice me—they never do—but several stop to say hello to my little goddess. Bastards!

A curly-haired student with dimples and spectacles comes in off Dame Street and walks up to her. Bends over and whispers in her ear. She laughs and shakes her head, says something to him and he walks away, clearly disappointed. Sent packing, no doubt. Good enough for him. Don’t want anyone around her right now.

The first spatter of sleet curls on the wind and hits my face. My little goddess looks up at the lead-weary sky, puts down her sketchbook, and picks up a small rucksack.

Okay. Don’t panic. She’s about to leave. It’s now or never. Go for it, Romaine. If only my heart would stop thumping in my throat. Makes it hard to breathe. Lurch forward in a half run. Slow down, you twit, you’ll trip over yourself. You and your long legs. “Gangly,” my Aunt Emily calls me. The mean old bitch! “So lucky Romaine has brains,” she says, “because she’ll never get a husband.” Double bitch!

Halfway there. My goddess is still sitting on her stool, packing up her things. She probably won’t even notice me. And so? Then she’ll be no different from anyone else, will she? But she is different, so very different. Getting close. Still moving too fast. Say it now, Romaine, or you’ll end up saying it to thin air.

“Hello.” Turn my head toward her and try to smile. Oh God! That was stupid. Really stupid. Just a nervous twitch of the mouth. My goddess looks up. Probably thinks I’m some sort of weirdo. Past her now. What a fucking disaster. Not what I planned. But at least it’s done. I can go back to my rooms now and warm up. That’s some relief.

“It’s Bluestocking, isn’t it?” Light, precise Asian accent behind me.

Stop, manage not to trip over myself, and turn. “Oh! R-R-Romaine…actually. Though people do call me Bluestocking, I b-believe.”

My little goddess stands, slings her knapsack over her shoulder, and walks toward me. She moves like a tigress. So what am I? Dinner? Shit! What have I done? I should have left well alone. Well it’s too late now.

Silver goddess smile. “Romaine… Sorry. When I asked who you were, I was told you were called Bluestocking.”

“You asked who I was?” Jesus! She noticed me? Why? I hardly notice myself most days.

That smile again. Close to me now. Too close. “Yes, I did. I told someone I thought you were very pretty, but you’re not, are you? You’re beautiful. Especially now you’ve got rid of those braces.” She reaches up and touches me on the side of my mouth.

Didn’t realize it was still open. Close it quick. She’d even noticed I’d had braces? When? Hope I’m not blushing. Of course you’re blushing, Romaine, you’re always blushing.

Mumble through closed lips. “Sorry. You must be confusing me with someone else. I’m neither pretty nor beautiful.” God, I sound pathetic. I am pathetic.

My goddess pauses but doesn’t take her hand from my face. Oh, so disconcerting. Feel like putting my hand onto hers to hold it there. But if I did I’d probably burst into tears. She’s so much smaller than me, so much more fragile, yet right now she could knock me over with a flick of an eyelash.

“Those braces must have been a nightmare, Bluestocking. May I call you Bluestocking? I like the name.”

“If… If you like.”

“I like. And your hair is much better like that. Where are your glasses?”

“I lost them.” God! What a stupid lie. She can see it too. I’m sure she can. “Well, actually…I don’t really need them. It’s just…”

“No. I didn’t think you did. Just a disguise, right?”

Look at my boots. When did I get that scratch on the left one? Dammit! I’ve only had them two weeks. Whisper. “I’m not beautiful.”

Little goddess hisses in impatience. Oh tish! I’ve upset her already. Brown almond eyes narrow and lips part. Such sensuous lips. I want to kiss them. Oh for God’s sake, Romaine, get a grip. And such neat white teeth. Little gap between the two front ones. Someone told me once that that was very sexy. Sexy. Stop that immediately, Romaine. Think of something else.

“Excuse me, Bluestocking, but I think you are beautiful. I really do. When I first saw you I felt you might well be an angel in disguise.”

Manage a nervous little laugh. Look around. Anyone watching us? Any way of escape?

“Hardly,” I reply. But it was nice of her to say it all the same. No one has ever said anything like that to me before. Yeah! She can say it again sometime if she wants.

Goddess flicks a strand of long black hair away from her eyes. “I could paint your portrait, Bluestocking, but I doubt you’d believe what I paint. However, I am also a very good photographer. The camera doesn’t lie. Would you do me the honor to come to my house someday, perhaps this weekend? I’d like to take your photograph. Then you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”

Nobody invites me anywhere, probably because I always insist on bringing my brain with me. Now don’t say any—

“Oh! Okay. If you like.” Too late. What an idiot! Why did I say that?

“I like.” She scribbles something on a piece of paper. “Here’s my number. And everyone calls me Kali.”

“Oh! Really? How strange. Like the Hindu goddess?”

“Yes. Though sadly I don’t have nearly enough arms to be her. Why do you find it strange?”

Look down at boots again. “Um… No reason really.”