Under the Harvest Moon

A short story about a shy tomboy going on a first date

Rebecca’s bedroom was devoid of mirrors. She was a typical tomboy, with no interest in her appearance, unless concerning choices over her footwear or which sweatshirt she might wear that day.

 

Tonight was different. Her sister Tara had carefully removed the mirror from her own dressing table and brought it to Rebecca. They sat in front of it together, Tara carefully applying a thin layer of mascara to Rebecca’s eyelashes, who batted them defensively, rendering Tara’s job impossible. 

 

“Will you quit?” She giggled at Rebecca. Rebecca smiled back, finding it hard to engage in too much joviality.

 

“Stop worrying,” Tara reassured her, “You’ll be fine. He asked YOU, remember?”

 

Rebecca nodded, further disgruntling Tara, who removed the mascara wand and waved it in the air like a white flag. 

 

“Honey, you’re on your own! I just hope he loves them pale-faced and interesting!” Tara sat on the bed, cross-legged and began flipping through a magazine.

 

I just hope he likes me, thought Rebecca. Seventeen years old and my first date. How pathetic!

 

“What is this crap?” asked Tara incredulously, throwing down Rebecca’s October copy of National Geographic in disgust.

 

When Rebecca didn’t respond, Tara turned towards her. “We’re so different, you and I, do you know that?”

 

“Don’t you forget it,” Rebecca quipped.

 

The younger of the two, Rebecca felt she was the ugly duckling of the family. Tara was tall, curvaceous and extremely feminine. Blessed with platinum hair; Rebecca’s had always been a dull shade of brown. “Nondescript”, she always replied, if ever asked to describe herself.

 

Tall and awkward, she had not inherited the fluidity of movement for which her sister was renowned. She hated her clumsy and boyish frame. Hell! She could even get away without wearing a bra! She laughed this off, making jokes about not being able to offer a safe hiding place to a pencil. However, sometimes behind the laughter, she felt inadequate. And she often felt ashamed.

 

She was obsessively tidy and loved to read, particularly National Geographic and Readers Digest, storing back-copies in pristine condition, alphabetically or in date order. She didn’t care much for fiction or romance, preferring to read about places, people or documented adventures. It was important for her to know that there were wonderful things out there in the world; things that were real.

 

She hoped to travel one day, although hadn’t figured out how this would fit into the direction her life was taking, fearing her loner tendencies would make for few opportunities. Her weekends were often spent hanging around at home with Tara when she was available. Any of her plentiful spare time was spent in her room, lost in her books or daydreaming. She didn’t have any friends, as she felt that she held no interest for others her own age. From previous experience, she had found that they simply didn’t “get” her. She had never had a boyfriend. There had been far too many times that she had started to feel a connection towards someone and they had dismissed her completely and headed in Tara’s direction. It was simpler; more self-preserving, to ignore the opposite sex.

 

She had shocked herself with how completely out of character it was for her to say “yes” when asked out by a complete stranger. The stranger’s name was Robert and he had ridden into her life on a bicycle. And crashed into her. 

 

He was red-faced, stammering and full of apologies. She had taken a long time to assure him that she was ok, and that nothing was more bruised than her ego. He had insisted on taking her to the nearest store to ask for a glass of water and to get her to sit for a moment. She didn’t argue as she was finding it hard to speak, shuffling alongside him awkwardly, feeling a little vulnerable and in complete awe of his size. He was significantly taller than her. She jumped when he protectively took her arm as they crossed the street. She felt as if she was in a dream world with this new man in her life called Robert. Concussion?

 

The dream continued as she lay on her bed that night, clutching the precious piece of paper he had given her, the letters scrawled hurriedly in hand-writing that could have been that of a doctor. “Robert - 0893 763992, Saturday, pick you up at 8”.

 

And here she was, 8.01, feeling nauseous. She sat on her own in the kitchen, drumming her fingernails on the kitchen table, trying hard not to clock-watch. Tara stood in the hallway, peeking out from the curtain and searching the road outside for any sign of life.

 

His arrival at 8.03 was signalled by Tara’s squeal of excitement. She propelled a terrified Rebecca out of the front door and into blinding headlights, somewhat fittingly as Rebecca already felt dazzled and confused.

 

They drove to a local Chinese restaurant with Robert chatting casually for the whole journey. She was grateful for the loud music on the stereo preventing her thumping heart from being heard. The sun had long since set when they arrived and Rebecca, unable to recall the last time she had stayed out past 7, felt as if she was occupying someone else’s body.

 

As they walked across the street to the restaurant, he put his arm gently around her shoulder. She was surprised at how natural the gesture felt. Suddenly, when they reached the side of the road, he swung her around, as if leading her in a waltz and then he took up position behind her.

 

“Take a look,” was all he said.

 

Hanging low in the sky before them, the giant harvest moon smouldered in glittering fires of amber and vermilion, almost touching the horizon as if trying to awaken it for an embrace. She had never remembered anything so breath-taking. They stood in silence; the only thing that mattered was the beauty of the moment; enhanced beyond imagination by the wonderful feeling of his warm hands on her shoulders.

 

Dinner passed in a dream. She listened to Robert’s conversation intently, not wanting to miss anything. It was only halfway through the meal when he expressed curiosity as to why she wasn’t talking more. Through his direction, she found herself opening up to him. At first, in response to his direct questions, but later, in the subjects that she chose. She was thrilled at how easy he was to talk to and found she was stepping outside herself a little and observing. She liked what she saw. A laughing, animated seventeen year old girl, story-telling and confiding with a very good-looking young man, with beautiful eyes of blue-grey. She was unable to look away from those incredible eyes. She wanted to jump into them, losing herself completely.

 

Skipping coffee, they took their fortune cookies and drove to the top of a hill just outside the town. As he parked the car, the lights of the town twinkled before them and the buildings were bathed in a tangerine glow, highlighting angles, sloping roofs, pylons, spires and trees. It seemed surreal.

 

In contrast to the chattiness in the restaurant, they had hardly uttered a word in the car. When they arrived, she had stood watching him patiently, as he took a blanket from the back seat of the car and carefully laid it on the uneven ground. Her heart-rate was steady.

 

They lay beside each other on the blanket, fingers entwined. They unwrapped their fortune cookies and read the contents aloud to each other; “Divine Love” and “Immeasurable Beauty”.

 

Then, with fortunes disclosed, they made love on the blanket.

 

Later that night, after Robert had driven her home, she lay naked on her bed with the window wide open. The light of the moon suffused her body with a warm, apricot glow. She looked down at her body, expecting to feel annoyed at her disappointing breasts and her insignificant curves.

 

Tonight, however, her body felt different, it felt like that of a woman; a goddess.

 

She wondered why she had given herself to him so easily.

 

And as she lay there, bathed in light, on this, the most beautiful night of her life, she felt something different. For once, in all her seventeen years, she felt no shame.

Reviews

[Tim H]

I think you did a great job of capturing that teenage angst and the sibling rivalry between sisters. I particularly liked the ending with the growth of self confidence in Rebecca. The dialogue between the sisters seemed very natural and moved the story along. Perhaps revealing the back story and details about Rebecca through dialogue might provide a more impactful experience for the reader. You write dialogue so well I think you should use it more.