Artwork by Trevor Brown
Dmitri and Stephanie Lair felt like crying upon hearing that their baby girl was healthy. Nolita, a fine peaceful neighborhood in Manhattan, was freezing that fine December evening when Mrs. Lair was rushed to the hospital for an early labor. They named their little girl Noelle.
Mrs. Lair had a difficult pregnancy, and as the doctor said, Noelle was a "miracle baby." Being the only child Noelle was treated as the Lairs' most precious gem. She grew up to be a happy and bright child. At five she convincingly faked a fever and when she turned eight, sweet Noelle told her parents she wanted to be a theater actress.
When she was old enough to wear a bra, Noelle woke with blood stains on her pajamas. She came rushing to her mother, crying.
"Oh my child," said Mrs. Lair with a ringing laugh as she taught her daughter how to use tampons.
The beautiful Noelle - freckled nose, rose-blushed cheeks, golden hair and soft gray eyes - earned the admiration of men and the envious looks of women in Nolita. Yes, she did enjoy all the attention from her, as she puts it, adoring fans.
The afternoon of March 26th smelled of petrichor. Mrs. Lair was out for a friend's birthday party, and Noelle was in her room sketching costumes for a school play. Dmitri Lair was sweating hard and looking uneasy when he came to his daughter's room. Slowly, he locked the door.
***
"This will be our little secret," said Mr. Lair. With her body aching and her soul crumbling, Noelle accusingly stared as her father put back on his pants. She didn't cry when her father left, but sleep was elusive either. She was hugging her knees and her eyes were blank - paused in a tableau of disgust and disbelief. She felt completely and horribly alone.
Her mother never knew about her and her father's little secret. Mrs. Lair died, a year after, believing her husband was the perfect man and the perfect father. But Noelle knew, of course, that her mother's vision fogged with lies and illusion. With his wife gone, Mr. Lair would sneak in to Noelle in bed or at times even in the bath. Oddly enough, Noelle never grew numb from all of these; it always felt like the first time. It terrfied and sickened her to the pit of her stomach everytime her father would kiss her neck, carress her breasts and touch her all-over with his calloused hands.
On October 21st Mr. Lair came home drunk from playing poker with his drinking buddies. Noelle took paraphins and matches from the kitchen and burned their house to the ground. She walked away, never looking back. She left Nolita, and spat on the church she happened to pass by on her escape.
***
Noelle did become an actress. She would clutch on the sheets and fake moans and orgasms for men she didn't know and who didn't even bother knowing her. Instead of standing ovations she earned a lot of lustful looks from men, a few free drinks and a lot of penises.
A few years later, a huge wooden crucifix looked down on Noelle as she laid on her coffin adorned with white orchids. Her face was weary and wrinkled with age but it was still beautiful. Yes, she was beautiful.
Oh sweet Noelle of Nolita, forgive the world and its cruelties. Requiescat in pace, Noelle.
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Noelle of Nolita by KASH
