Black and white. That’s the story of my life.

I woke to it slowly as the soft ribbons of light peeped through the closed shutters caressing my face and shoulders. My eyes fluttered open wary and still drowsy, suspicious that maybe I was caught in one of those dreams where you think you’re awake, but you’re not. I decided to test it. I dangled my legs off my bed, leaving the alluring warmth of my bed as I slowly lowered my feet to the wooden floor. I gasped as the delicious cold shock sent shivers through the bottom of my feet and up my spine-definitely awake. While my eyes were still adjusting to the light that was beginning to sharpen the objects in the room I lifted myself off my bed. Walking over to the adjacent closed shutters I savored each step, as it sent an electric shiver through me. After unlatching the shutters I pushed them open letting the sun swarm into the room, momentarily blinding me.

This is what I loved about this place.

I inhaled the soft smell of jasmine and freshly cut grass, mingled from the crisp breeze whispering through the tops of the trees. The busy skittle of insects filled the air as they went about their daily practiced routine. From three stories high I had a view of it all. The gardens just below, the ever busy courtyard, the uniformly set out classrooms and the overbearing church. Since my room was on the Far East end of the dorm I could see what no one else in this dorm or even the teacher’s dorm could see-more. Past the school, church, ominous school gates and all the way to the gentle hills lingering on the horizon, promising me more. The different shades form here to the horizon varied like an artist’s pallet.

I remembered the first time I had pushed the shutters open and the mixed feelings of hope, reassurance and awe had filled me. It was like a story set out right before me, with the school as chapter one. Yet slowly, very slowly had I learnt that this story before me was nothing like reality. Just a tease of something so beautiful and never within my grasp, like the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden. This was my forbidden fruit. Except unlike Eve my forbidden fruit isn’t edible and is barricaded by schedules, rules, prayers and black and white. I realized that despite the invisible barricade and this story that made you ache just looking at it I have no solid idea of what I am being barricaded from, which makes me more determined to reach out and grab it. This is what makes my life here durable and a little bit more significant. Like on a concrete memorial slab, where the date of your birth and death are stated under your name with a small insignificant dash in between them. No one really ever notices that unpretentious dash, but that little dash represents all the significance that life ever held. This is my Dash I realize as my eyes sweep over the story laid in front of me.

The small jostle next door and the soft padding of footsteps outside my door told me I wasn’t the only one awake. I let my eyes greedily take in the campus and beyond one more time before turning my back on it and facing my room now engulfed by the morning sun. I let out a heavy sigh as I watch the dust flirt with the soft breeze catching the sun at every angle as it dipped and rose around my room.

I squared my shoulders, bracing myself for the day that lay ahead. I sat down at my dressing table and groaned at my reflection. I snatched up my hair brush and raked it through the tangled haystack that was my hair, wincing at every lash. I stared back at my reflection as my violet eyes shone back at me. I didn’t mind my eyes, but I did however mind the reactions I received: the blatant wide-eyed stares and the constant flow of questions like “Are those contacts?” and “Where did you get those from?” Right I went to the shop and purchased my eyes.

I wondered, like every other day where I got my violet eyes from. Maybe my biological parents were both form two contrasting ethnic backgrounds to which I owed my implausible violet eyes. I didn’t know or remembermuchof my parents only that they sent me here nearly 10 years ago and still pay a generous amount for my tuition; which is enough information for my comfort.

My eyes caught sight of the day calendar by the mirror. Glad for the distraction I reached over and ripped yesterdays date off it revealing today’s date and motto: 27th February.

"Yesterday's the past, tomorrow's the future, but today is a gift. That's why it's called the present."

~Bill Keane

I sat there reading it, feeling a sudden urge to rip off that page too, not knowing really why. I wondered who Bill Keane was and if he was still alive, so I could march right up to him and ask: “But what if today isn’t always a gift? Just another dash between when you wake up and when you close your eyes in slumber!”

I was startled by a light knock on my door.

“Come in.” I croaked, hoping that my stale morning breath wasn’t so noticeable.

Taking the invitation the door groaned open. Sister Marris, our Matron, walked in tentatively already in her habit-of course.

I frowned at Sister Marris’ obvious discomfort. Usually she would storm right in, tell you what was needed and then leave as swiftly as she came. Now, however, she was reticent, hesitating, lingering-something was wrong. Sister Marris looked out my window not meeting my curious gaze.

Sister Marris really was too young to be a matron and much too beautiful looking at her now. She had the beauty of a fire alarm: Loud and hard to ignore; despite her habit. Her livid eyes pierced whatever they touched; complimenting her untarnished ivory skin and high chiseled cheekbones. She put Marylyn Monroe to shame.

Sister Marris cleared her throat, but still didn’t even glance my way.

“Sister Paton requires you at her office, immediately.” Sister Marris requested her voice low and inexpressive.

I hesitated. Now? Strange. I got up and started to rummage through my draws since Sister Marris showed no sign of leaving. I started to undress conscious that sister Marris was there. I chanced a glance over my shoulder at her to find her starring out my window. Strange. I zipped up my pinafore and tucked in my white cotton blouse, while negotiating my feet into my shoes. My palms were sweating and my throat was sorely dry. What could I have done? Ideas raced through my head. My hands were shaking as I frantically did up the buttons of my blouse and nearly jumped back at the sight of someone else’s hands pushing mine away and redoing the buttons.

“There’s no need to give yourself a brain hemorrhage,” Sister Marris sighed. “You’re not in trouble. Sister Paton just needs to speak with you about a few…pressing issues.” Her voice was a soft murmur, I had never seen Sister Marris so undecided with her words; adding to my paranoia.

I wanted Sister Marris to elaborate, but she turned abruptly and left without another word.

Pressing issues? I felt my palms sprout new beads of sweat and I could tell other parts of me were too. I let out a long exasperated sigh before following Sister Marris out. I tiptoed past the closed doors, not wanting to wake any late sleepers. Then when out of ear shot I sprinted down the marble steps and out onto campus. The breeze caught me by surprise, but I kept walking taking the shortcut over the grass, still wet form the morning dew. I gave an involuntary shiver as I walked under the trees drooping over like candy canes, with lush green leaves littered among the branches. The promise of summer and blistering heat tinged the air. I regretted that I couldn’t take all this in, the campus really was beautifully well kept, but my mind was elsewhere.

‘Pressing issues’? I raked my brain for and thing that would hint at anything ‘pressing issues’ related. Maybe…

“Addison?”

My head snapped up to meet the concerned eyes of Sister Carry.

“Oh, Good morning Sister Carry.” I mumbled in reply, oblivious to how I got here in the front office so fast.

Sister Carry answered with a warm motherly smile before waddling off down the corridor.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding in and continued to walk to my death hearing the low clack-clack of each step echo down the corridor, decorated with Crucifix’s and pictures of Mother Mary.

I paused outside the door and quickly knocked on the door, before I had the chance to back out.

“Come in Addison,” Sister Paton’s voice invited.

I reluctantly opened the door to Sister Paton’s office. Her office face North with tall north-facing windows to catch the morning sun. The eastern wall was covered self over shelf with books, which I highly doubted Sister Paton had all read. The Walls were paneled with a light wood that gave this room a sharp dean’s touch.

I was about to enter when I froze foot midway between the corridor and Sister Marris’ office. There sister Marris stood facing me next to her huge varnished desk with Father Ash standing behind the desk with his hands behind his back, like an erect soldier. This meant something serious. Father Ash was only ever seen at mass and devout related activities.

I felt all my muscles tense as I assessed the situation. This could not be good. Pressing Issues flashed through my mind.

“Come in Addison,” Sister Paton asked me gravely.

My eyes frantically shot between Father Ash and Sister Marris trying to see if they would reveal a small hint.

I walked in slowly. Careful not to close the door behind me; in case I needed to make a run for it. Idiotic and coward that may seem it proved to be some what comforting.

“Close the door Addison,” Sister Paton added exasperated.

Father Ash met my gaze and tried to give me a reassuring smile, but it didn’t seem right.

I closed my only source of comfort and faced them head on; ready for battle.

“Addison,” Father Ash spoke slowly. “We know your properly wondering why you’re here at this early hour so we won’t beat around the bush”

I nodded dumbfounded, swallowing against the lump in my throat.

“Addie,” Sister Paton said this time. “We would like you to meet someone.” Sister Paton indicated with her eyes and hands to me.

Meet who? Me?

After a second a low, hinting cough sounded behind me. My eyes widened and I stood fully alert. I slowly turned on my heels, unwilling, but obligated under the circumstances to come face to face to a tall opaque man. I felt my eyes widen and my mouth drop. Not because of the sight of a man clearly not a member of the church in Sister Paton’s office or the fact that the ebony suit he wore screamed designer material. But at the piercing violet eyes that held mine.

“Addie, I would like you to meet Sir Westwood…” Father Ash said his voice low and rough.

“…Your Father,” Sister Paton whispered.