Twinkle

by Skyler Steele

  Samantha’s voice next to me brought me back to reality, when she talked to me.

  “He keeps looking at you, have you noticed?” she asked in a low voice.

  I turned towards her, I avoided answering, and also towards him only to see him turning around as if he had heard her words. His profile was perfectly outlined at the dim light which was coming from the window. He had a straight thin nose, clear lines and angles. He was holding the desk in front of him really tight, making a clear effort to restrain himself. He looked like he was ready to stand up and bolt out of the classroom. But he did not. He remained at that poise, giving the impression that he possessed a deep power of self control. If something was bothering him so much, and this had to do with me if I judge from his reactions, he must have had a very strong personality to be able to rivet himself on a seat next to me.

  Professor Scot was looking for volunteers to demonstrate something. I did not know what it was, since I had not heard anything all that time. I almost lied on my seat being afraid that he may mandate me for his presentation, since I could not see anybody willing to participate. I did not like the idea of finding myself standing in front of so many unknown people. My shy nature did not allow me adventures of that kind. He went around the classroom twice, looking and waiting for someone agreeable. Not a soul. He came near us observing me and I wished I had not been born. I closed my eyes when I heard him say:

  “You Miss, you are suitable. And the young man next to you, the blond. He is suitable as well. Come on, please”.

  Fearfully, I raised my eyes to make sure he meant me and that he was waiting patiently. I had no choice. I could not refuse something so simple. Help him proceed with what he had in mind. At least, I wanted to know what he was talking about... Before I got up, I saw a tall figure passing by me with stiffness and I, terrified, become aware of who the professor meant by saying ‘the blond’. I followed him to the main desk and waited, looking at the floor, trying to concentrate because of the short distance between us.

  I almost felt the warmth that his body was giving out. I clearly smelled this and only this, his scent, and I was hearing his discontent breathing. However, I would not dare raise my eyes towards his side.

  Professor Scot finally started talking after he had found whatever he was searching for on his desk. Precisely, he was reading an excerpt from Genesis.

  “And God made man like himself to his icon. He made him and made them, male and female[1]”.

  He stopped reading to address the rest of the class.

  “What do you see?” he asked pointing at us standing in front of him.

  “A male and a female”, a boy with copper hair answered.

  “Very nice” Mr. Scot approved. “And what did you hear?” he posed a new question.

  “That god created the humans, male and female”, I heard a girl from the back seats.

  “Very good”.

  He came and stood next to us pointing at us again.

  “Does what you heard match with what you see?”

  “Yes”, some students said hastily.

  “No”, I heard some voices.

  “Who has objections?” he asked.

  “I do”, said a boy and stood up.

  “What is your name, Sir?”

  “Tomas Glent”.

  “Well, Mr. Glent what is it that does not fit according to your opinion?”

  “He created mankind in his own image”, he explained.

  “Excellent, Mr. Glent. Thank you”.

  I wondered what he meant. Mr. Scot continued.

  “Who would like to tell us what “in his own image” means?”

  A boy with chestnut-brown hair and glasses in the same colour got up.

  “My name is Adam Atkins. I think it is not clarifying the picture. Which exactly is the image, the male or the female one? If it is the male image then how the female one comes along and, most of all, whose is it?”

  “Very nice. Thank you Mr. Atkins. Now, look at these two young people. Could they be the First humans, created from the first divine material?”

  I imagined us naked in Paradise living in absolute happiness. I turned and looked at him. His eyes were staring at me and his hands were two tight fists. Mr. Scot started reading again. “And God made the man from the dirt of the earth and blew at his face breath of life and man became in to live soul[2]”. Who wants to tell us what “from the dirt of the earth and blew at his face breath of life” means?

  I saw Samantha getting up.

  “Dust means soil. Maybe it is a figurative word for the material at which god blew the divine DNA”

  “Very well, miss…”

  “My name is Samantha Nouls”, she introduced herself.

  He turned to us to thank us and announced that the creation of humans would be one of the subjects for the first period’s project that we would devise in groups.

  “This specific subject is to be taken by the team of Glent, Nouls, Atkins and the two of you. Some more subjects are: the Fall of the Angels, God or human… The rest of you will come in the end to receive the names of your colleagues and of course, the bibliography”.

  The superb stranger, who I would soon be acquainted with, moved a bit to let me pass by first. I felt his eyes staring my back, burning me. This was only a small recess. We kept sitting on the same seats. I was looking at the professor without seeing him and he was looking at me not knowing if he was seeing me or something else on me. At the end of the lecture, before I had the time to think, the stranger got up and rushed out of the room almost running. This, of course, was in accordance with his behaviour and his poise during the lecture. But why? A huge “why” was penetrating my mind. We got out of the classroom holding the bibliography and introduced ourselves formally.

  “I am Thomas Glent and I suggest going to lunch. We must get to know each other better”, the boy who answered first the professor’s questions proposed.

  We all agreed and went out of the building, heading to the dining hall. The rest of the group seemed to know the area better than me. I followed them. The stranger had disappeared. I searched the corridor, I looked outside but he was nowhere. I was walking with the rest of the students when suddenly I saw him turn up and stand next to Tomas whom he seemed to know very well. During the walk he looked cogitative, having his hands in the pockets of his black jacket. I could not resist looking at him secretly while Samantha was talking to Adam. Tomas let him walk ahead and came next to me as I was a bit behind. He started talking to me about the weather trying to approach me using the English way, I guess. In Italy the boys never talked about the weather.

  “Where are you from?” he asked me.

  With the corner of my eye I saw him slowing his pace and looking towards us, as if he was trying to hear our conversation.

  “From Florence”, I answered.

  “Well, Italian. I should have known by your hair colour. You speak English fluently…” he commented because of my accent.

  “Yes”, I explained once again. “My mother is from Edinburgh”.

  “I suppose you would come here during the summers”, he said and straightened a red strand of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. Tomas was a representative of the English appearance. He was tall, slim, with especially transparent skin and plenty of freckles which gave a cute touch to his face. His hair colour was amazing. The one all the women are trying to achieve, spending hours at the hairdresser’s. It was copper-red with a bright glare. Unconsciously, I compared him with the stranger. This was unfair. Nobody, at least from those I knew, could be compared with him.

  Along the way he did not speak at all. Not even to introduce himself. He was walking, always a little ahead of us, lost in his own thoughts. When we arrived at the dinning hall I could not believe my eyes. This was far from a college’s dinning room… It had wooden panelling on the walls where very large paintings were dominating. The ceiling, which had decorations made from plaster, looked more like a castle’s dining hall. At the
far end, a large window was distinct covering the whole space. Every vacant wall was covered. The tables were placed in long rows and were accompanied by wooden amber coloured chairs.

  The stranger sat facing me and after he introduced himself to Samantha, who was sitting next to me, he extended his hand towards me. “I am Camen Ariel”.

  “Nice to meet you”, I whispered because of the agitation caused by the direct contact with him. “My name is Adriana Primi. My friends call me Adrian”.

  I let my hand fall, feeling it burning. He kept looking at me prolonging my agitation. I draw my attention to the rest of the group who were already talking joyfully like they knew each other for a long time. They seemed to like each other. They were talking and laughing, without realizing my agitation at the curious atmosphere that Camen had created between us. At some point, I saw Christine at the opposite table looking at me. She smiled and winked at me. I lowered my head embarrassed, believing that she did it because I was sitting with Camen Ariel. A group of girls next to her were looking at him very enthusiastically, whispering among themselves, glancing at him with eyes full of admiration. He seemed not to pay attention to them. Again, he turned himself to me. Why? I asked myself again. I stirred my food unwilling to put something in my mouth. I was feeling him observing me.

  “Don’t you like the English cuisine?”

  I raised my eyes from the table.

  “I beg your pardon?” I said surprised.

  His style was very serious like he was talking about the most important thing in the world.

  “I see you are not eating. From your name I assumed you are not English. And judging from the way you are twisting your fork, you probably prefer the Italian food”.

  Very nice! The whole morning he did not take his eyes of me, not even out of politeness or discretion, while the disturbance I was causing him was obvious, although unjustified. And now, like everything is normal, he is commenting that I like the Italian cuisine.

  “I really like the Italian. Although my mother was very often cooking food similar to this”

  I showed him my plate.

  “So, is your mother English?”

  His face looked relaxed a bit. I knotted affirmatively.

  Tomas looked towards us.

  “Adrian is from Florence”, he explained.

  “The city of Renaissance”, Adam added looking at me smiling.

  “The artists of that period painted a lot of angels. They had an obsession with them”. I remembered, in one of my trips to Florence I had found a shop where all its items were depicting angels. I guess Adrian is from the city of angels”, Samantha barged in and gave me a big smile.

  Camen looked at me so intensely that I thought his eyes would talk to me. Finally, he turned his eyes to Samantha.

  “Isn’t it logical to have this obsession with angels? At that time, there were not collectors of art works. Their main market was the church. They decorated too many and I suppose they were pulling their topics from the Bible. The angels look alive”.

  He turned to me again saying those last words.

  “Yes, I guess you are right”, Samantha answered.

  I took the courage to ask.

  “What do you think about Cappella Sistina? Have you seen the frescoes of its ceiling?”

  I brought my dream back to mind.

  Samantha’s face brightened.

  “We should include Renaissance works of art in our project. Perhaps they are hiding something about the creation of humans”.

  “What do you mean? What can they possibly be hiding?” Tomas asked.

  “Well, I was thinking… so many people who were occupied with Biblical writings, in order to be inspired for their projects, may have discovered something and then illustrated it on their creations”, Sam explained.

  Tomas did not look convinced.

  “Do you believe there are hidden messages in the Testaments?” he answered back.

  “Why not! A quick study, without even the need to analyze them, will clearly demonstrate to you that everything is very complicated”.

  “Supposing that there is a chance the secret of “Humans’ Creation” to be hidden in the art of Renaissance, how exactly will we find it and, mainly, to which artist’s work will will be searching?” Tomas presented his concerns.

  “I think Cappella Sistina is ideal”, Camen answered looking at me.

  “It is not a bad idea”, Adam agreed.

  This was quite convenient for me. Studying of the frescoes would maybe lead someone else to see beyond what I was seeing. Perhaps the studying would help me understand the meaning of this proposal.

  Tomas took responsibility of organizing our meeting at the library the same afternoon. Samantha suggested that we go together. I agreed. Camen, although more relaxed than before, he looked thoughtful and concerned. He stopped staring at me. Now he was just taking quick looks of me, always with the same indiscretion.

  A tall girl with light-blond curls which were fluttering at each step and amber coloured eyes approached Camen. The familiarity between them was obvious. A tightening in my stomach made me feel sick, all of a sudden. Sam next to me, looked like she had sensed it. Perhaps I had become paler than I normally was and she asked me if I was all right.

  “Yes, I am all right”, I rushed to disprove her concerns.

  “You look sick”, she insisted.

  “No. I feel fine. Perhaps I am a little tired from my trip. I need some time to settle in here”, I responded.

  “From which British area do you come from?” she changed the subject.

  “From Edinburgh”, I answered trying to show I was well, something that was not true.

  “I am from London. You have been there, I imagine”.

  “Yes, when I was younger. I liked it very much”.

  “Would you like to visit me a weekend in the future, to show you around if you want”, she proposed.

  Surely, Samantha’s proposal was tempting. I would really like to visit London. But for now, all my attention was drawn to Camen, who was talking to the unknown goddess. I tried to listen to their conversation but I could not manage it because they were talking softly. Samantha was dealing with me and also there was noise coming from the dining room. But why did I care about their conversation?

  She was leaning towards him, smiling and beautiful, with the certainty and self-confidence all the beautiful women have. I admired her. She was wearing a white pullover and a short checked skirt which had the English style, looking more like a model rather than a student.

  He said something to her and she frowned having an expression of both disappointment and anger. Camen turned and looked at me making me feel bad. It was one of the many times today that he caught me observing him. What would he possibly be thinking? He must have had very serious reasons to be so insistently looking at me. I was sure I was causing feelings of distress to him, it was something unspecified. However, I was feeling dizzy because of his appearance, his angelic face, his graceful body moves, and it was quite obvious”.

  I turned to Samantha.

  “This would be very nice. Thank you for your invitation”, I answered.

  Tomas and Adam were having a conversation and I tried to draw my attention to them, avoiding turning to the other side. At that moment, Camen announced an invitation to a party.

  “Next weekend Cindy will celebrate her birthday at her house”, he turned towards her: “You do not mind, I imagine, if my friends will come along! You already know Tomas. This is Adam, Samantha and Adriana”, he made the necessary introductions. Cindy, the blond, made a greeting gesture as she was pulling herself from Camen, however, without taking her hand from his shoulder. Her face showed that she was surprised; she did not expect this development. She took a long look at me, stern for a moment, however politeness required that she should repeat the invitation herself.