Freya Maria
Freya Maria
† Ӎax Șinclair †
For all intents and purposes Lea Maxine Sinclair, most often referred as Maxine by her parents (to differentiate her from her mother) had an idyllic life. She was the perfect child in her parent's eyes and in the eyes of the community around her. A role model. What other “good” folk wanted their little girls to be. She'd grown up wealthy and the daughter of a business man turned pastor and a mother who came from what she supposed could be entitled “old money”. She'd been in ballet, figure skating, music lessons, art lessons, had taken private lessons in other things as well. Her parents had been big believers in the idea that a busy child was one who wouldn't and couldn't get in trouble.
Her family lived on a plot of land large enough for a stable and pasture, the house itself from the colonial age of slavery. Of course those were the old days now, something to be forgotten. Max knew the history of the property. Had seen pictures of it in textbooks in a slavery course she'd taken the year prior. Being the dream child she apparently was, the petite blonde girl attended university full time and had earned nothing less then solid A's in her four years of study.
She was taking courses in everything this year, filling up her electives since she'd done most of her required courses- a course in Art History, two music courses to accomodate the years of lessons that couldn't go to waste, a course on the history of the Bible and a general English course on Victorian literature. She didn't really have the need for a serious job, her parents always told her. She'd find a nice young man, maybe a lawyer or doctor, and be the trophy stay at home wife raising a bunch of kids. How could she be anything less? Her eyes were a bright sky blue and framed with long lashes, her hair was long, blonde like an angel's and had soft curls towards the tips. Her mother had said as a little girl she looked like a doll and now as an adult she'd be irresistible for the right man.
It should have been ideal.
It wasn't.
Even at her age, when most were free from their parents, Max was not. What she wanted deep down didn't matter to them.
Somewhere between high school and now she'd deep down come to realize she didn't like men as much as she should have. Never found anyone attractive enough to catch her fancy. The thoughts were frightening, she wouldn't even admit to herself she was anything short of straight. Admission of anything less was a one way ticket to hell. Her parents would shun her, probably condemn her. They'd raised her to be God fearing-and fearing of them. Transgressions were punishable in however they say fit particularly for an offence they felt violated the “honour thy mother and father” commandment. It only put even more pressure on her to be nothing less then perfect.
For them.
And so on that crisp fall morning she took a seat in one of her courses and pulled out a notebook waiting for the lecture to start. She wore a cream colored dress with lace overlay that was knee length and a blue denim jacket. Her ballet flats were also cream colored with little gold ribbon bows on the top of each. Nothing she was wearing was very cheap, that was evident. Her parents paid for almost everything Max had and would continue to do so as long as she played the game of being the perfect good girl they'd always wanted. She sipped the cup of tea she'd brought with her in a travel mug, blue eyes glancing at the time. She had twenty minutes. Twenty very long minutes to wait and no friends in this class. Unfortunate for her.