by B S Steele
It was Natalya, standing there somehow still looking perfect in her snow clothes. I stood there, literally frozen for a second.
“Um, I guess,” I offered reluctantly.
I really didn’t want to, since I hated the way she looked at my brother, and I felt that this was probably a ploy just to get R.J. to notice her. Natalya sat on the front of the tube and I got on the back, rolling my eyes.
Oh well, I thought, if she wanted attention, she was about to get it.
I didn’t know if they had sledding in Russia, but I’d been sledding in the deep Michigan snow since I could walk.
“Hold on,” I said, a smirk darkening my face.
I pushed off the snow, steering for an icy patch I’d noticed, digging my heels in and launching us faster. Some of the girls shouted warnings, but I ignored them, laughing loudly.
“Stop!” Natalya shouted.
It was too late. We hit a mound of hard snow and our entire tube launched into the air. I was still smirking as Natalya’s body star fished midair, our tube smashing into a tree. I felt the weight of my body lift over Natalya and then come crashing down, landing straight on top of her. A few people ran to help as I rolled off her.
I dusted myself off, cooing sweetly, “Oh, Natalya! I hope you are okay!”
She rolled, over, frowning. “I’m fine,” she said, gritting her teeth.
I smiled brightly, picked up our tube, and said, “Oh, praise God. . . I think I’ll go again.”
Turning on my heel, I looked up and waved cheerfully at the crowd above, my brother smirking back at me from the top. Natalya still hadn’t learned from last summer. I wasn’t going to be her friend for her to snag some extra time with my brother.
I understood, since I liked going over to the twins’ house because that meant I would see Elijah, but I also actually liked Karrie and Becky. Elijah could kick rocks and I’d still go, because I genuinely liked his sisters.
When it came time for summer camp, I was reeling to get away from my Mother. She had become withdrawn from the church, and other than her friendship with Roslyn, she began sleeping through the days, getting up only to use the bathroom. Her eyes were usually red, her hair disheveled and she wore the same stretch pants for days on end. She’d always struggled with an under active thyroid and she claimed her medication hadn’t been working. She made doctor’s appointments only to cancel them hours before she was supposed to arrive.
As the dates of camp approached, she threatened us with not going if we didn’t behave. Eric had come to stay for the summer, and he irritated her in a way I never understood. We would all tiptoe around the house, hoping she would stay asleep until my stepdad got home.
Every day bled into the next, our chores never completed. There were chickens to feed and my stepdad was preparing to raise a calf for extra food next winter. The house was heated via a woodstove and come fall we would have wood to chop and stack in the basement for the cold nights ahead. It was costly for so many children to go to camp, but our church family had a fund to help families afford the cost.
My Pastor reassured us that we would be able to go. Things were tense between my parents and the Pastor. My Dad was a political man and didn’t agree with the Pastor’s auction style bidding for donations to build an addition for our school. He wanted to become a Deacon, but since he was a divorcee, he was not considered a Godly candidate for church office. My Mother hadn’t found her niche, and sneered at the Pastor’s wife, thinking she was an uppity snob who thought her son was too good for me.
Elijah and I had been forced to grow apart when his Mother noticed his affection for me. We had an end-of-the-year sports award banquet, which was our only activity where we could secure a date. I’d been practicing my sewing skills and gotten a pattern and some cheap satin to make a modest version of a prom dress.
I worked late into the night, sewing and snipping. I wondered if Elijah would ask me to the banquet, picturing the matching corsages we would wear. Everyone from our competing schools would finally see that I was Elijah’s special girl. We’d been seen sitting close at a few basketball games, and many of the boys and girls whispered about us, wondering if we were dating.
On the way back from one such game, he had leaned over in his seat, right in full view of his sisters, and tried to kiss me. Kissing was a definite no-no, and I’d looked down at the floor, turning my lips away from his. It wasn’t long after that when I heard that his Mother had been making him pen pal with a missionary’s daughter, a friend of mine named Joanie.
Joanie was beautiful with long red hair and a deep southern accent. To top it off, she could play the Mandolin and sing like a bird. Her family was a more respected family than mine, and her Mother and Elijah’s Mother were already plotting their first date.
“Elijah said he’s going to ask Anne to Banquet,” Danielle boasted to his sister, Becky. She rolled her eyes, looking at me with slitted eyes.
“Well, Elijah has already been told he is still too young to have a date and he isn’t allowed to ask anyone until next year.”
It stung, because I knew that it was more than that. Mrs. Swanson just didn’t think I was a good match for Elijah. I didn’t come from the right family, no matter how good I was. I felt comforted that at least he wouldn’t be taking anyone else in my place. By next year, I was sure Elijah would be able to make up his own mind, and we would go together. His parents would have to come out and tell him I was unfit, and I didn’t doubt that Elijah’s affection for me would win out in the end. He was smitten by me, and Elijah didn’t care about things like church status.
A few days before the banquet, Shiloh came to me with a vindictive smile on her face. Shiloh and I clashed, and we would do anything to rub the other the wrong way.
“Hey Anne, guess who Elijah is taking to the banquet?” She taunted.
I acted un-phased, and replied, “No one. His Mother said he is too young.”
She snickered, “That’s what she said? How funny that Joanie is coming all the way from another state, just so Elijah can take her to the banquet.”
I was stunned. Joanie and I had been writing each other for a while and I was sure she knew how I felt about Elijah. I’d thought she was my friend.
“Yep. I hear she’s having a dress especially made. Her parents want her to have the experience. You know, missionary kids don’t get a chance to do these types of things, so it’s the charitable thing for Elijah to invite her,” she continued, watching my every expression.
I looked at the floor and shrugged. “I guess if that is what he wants.”
Inside I was screaming.
How could he do this to me?
I would be so embarrassed, seeing him arm in arm with another girl, watching them laugh and talk, sharing a special meal together. In an instant I hated his Mother, who was supposed to care about me as her Sunday school pupil. She knew that this would hurt me, and it put Elijah in an awkward position. We were all so close, not one person in our church didn’t know that Elijah and I had been sweet on each other for over a year. This was a blow I wouldn’t soon get over. In that moment, I determined I would make myself as beautiful as I could, and that if Elijah was going to be so weak and hurtful, I would talk to the other boys at the banquet and make him forget all about Joanie.
The day of the banquet, my brother drove us to the church, my stomach turning into knots. My dress had turned out pretty, and I had taken extra time with my hair, curling it just right. When we pulled in, I scanned the crowd. Everyone looked handsome and excited. Some of the dresses were simple, and others looked quite beautiful. I spotted Joanie within seconds. She looked absolutely gorgeous. It was clear her parents had not spared any expense to make this night magical for their little girl.
She was wearing a tailored dress made of long flowing blue organza that made her green eyes stand out. This was the one night our modesty standards rode every possible line we could get away with, and every inch of Joanie’s dress tucked around her curves without
one millimeter of fabric to spare. In fact, she’d gotten away with much shorter sleeves and a neckline that was just a bit too low. I gritted my teeth, knowing this was only because of who her Father was, and because she was the guest of Pastor Swanson’s son. If I’d tried to pull off that dress, Mrs. Swanson would have marched me back into the Sunday school office and handed me a thrift store cast off from one of our modesty bags and demanded that I change, or risk being sent home.
Joanie’s strawberry hair looked flawless. Her soft red curls were pinned back with baby’s breath. She had on silk gloves that went up to her elbows, and dainty white high heels that made her look taller and more grown up.
Suddenly, I didn’t feel so confident. I looked at the light beige satin of my own dress, and realized it probably looked like a bad curtain in comparison. As usual, Joanie was smiling, her cheeks flushed pink and softly laced with freckles.
Joanie’s Mother and Elijah’s Mother were fussing over the two of them like two hens fighting for the last grain of corn. Elijah smiled for the camera, looking handsome in his tailored suit. He looked my way as R.J. and I joined the group. A brief look of shock and regret crossed his face, but he composed himself quickly, turning away to shake hands with Joanie’s Father.
Mrs. Swanson had noticed the brief paling of her son’s face. She paused to turn and look behind her. Instantly, her face puckered. She looked up and down at my homemade gown, a smug smile forming on her face. I squinted my eyes, erased any trace of defeat on my face, and walked right past her, greeting Joanie with a hug.
“Joanie!” I exclaimed. “How good you could come! And look at that dress! You look so beautiful.”
She hugged me back, and I melted. I knew it wasn’t Joanie’s fault. She was a genuine person who just wanted a “prom,” like any other teenage girl. Elijah came up to us, his corsage matching the flowers he had given Joanie. He looked at me with a sad look in his eyes, but a smile on his face.
“Hey Anne. What a beautiful dress,” he said sheepishly, trying not to move his eyes obviously over my body.
I’d developed since the last formal dress he’d seen me in. He blushed despite himself and tried to look away. I cleared my throat, looking him straight in the eyes, smoldering him with my own fake smile.
“Thank you, Elijah. I hope you and Joanie have a wonderful time.”
He started to speak, but I shouted a greeting to the rest of my friends behind him.
“If you’ll excuse me.” I said curtly, glancing at his Mother.
She’d been boring holes into the back of my skull since I’d arrived. I shot her a self-satisfied smile as I joined the group of single boys who were nearly busting out of their dress shirts for a moment of my attention. Elijah stood there speechless, nearly turning green when one of our other classmates commented on how grownup I looked.
Danielle came to my rescue, and the rest of the night we laughed and flirted, sitting as far away from Joanie and Elijah as we could. Boys from the surrounding churches made awkward conversation and seemed more interested in making spit wads than admiring the pretty girls. I couldn’t help but steal looks at Joanie, laughing and sitting at the table filled with the older, more mature crowd.
After we ate, I decided I’d just chum it up with Danielle and a few other dateless girls. I did my best to forget Elijah for the rest of the night and focused on sharing a good time with my best friend. After the banquet ended, Elijah stood leaning against the pine railing of the church, looking nostalgic. Most everyone had left, and we were awkwardly alone as I waited for R.J. to finish fooling around inside the church. Elijah looked at me, unsure of what to say.
“My parents made me go with her, you know,” he said, without looking up.
I stood there silent. I deserved better than that, and he knew it.
He met my eyes. “You know I would have chosen you, if I would have had a choice. I don’t like Joanie like that.”
I nodded, but something had changed for me. It was something I couldn’t easily forgive.
“You could have said no, Elijah.” I said stiffly, opening the church door, and disappearing inside.
***
Two weeks later, on the morning of summer camp, my Mother was in a rage. She had us all scrubbing the kitchen, screaming that we were going to be late.
“You kids don’t pay attention! I’m the only fucking one who is responsible for this shit?! And your Father doesn’t know what it’s like, he doesn’t deal with this day in and day out,” she shouted.
Eric’s face had gone pale, the way it did whenever she fussed. He walked timidly around the kitchen, sweeping the corners, staying as far away from her as he could. We didn’t have all our things packed and Mother was frantically shoving food into bags for our lunch.
“Anne, you didn’t wipe out the sink!” she yelled, pulling me by the arm to the sink.
“Now get it done right, or you won’t go!” she hissed. I hardened my face.
I hated when she touched me that way. She grabbed the broom from Eric.
“Is this how we sweep?!” she screamed, mocking his sweeping.
Eric flinched.
“What the hell are you flinching for?! I’m not going to hit you!”
Eric looked at me, his blue eyes full of fear and questions. I shrugged and turned to clean the sink.
“Emma!” She shouted again. “Where did you go? You think you don’t have to help?! Get your ass in the living room and finish putting away that laundry!”
Emma scuttled by us, my Mother eyeing her.
“Who has seen Ben?” She spat.
“He’s outside,” I said robotically.
“Well go tell him I said to come in,” she said.
I left the sink and went to find Ben. Mom had been asleep all morning, but I figured it was the baby making her tired. She had recently found out she was a few months pregnant. I was about to become a big sister again at the age of sixteen. The day she found out, I can remember the awe as we all examined the little pink and white stick with two lines that told us we were a growing family. Everyone seemed excited about it, but the pregnancy was going to be hard on my already ailing Mother. As far as summer camp went, I really wasn’t sure we would make it.
Getting out the door on time was usually a task left to my stepdad. Whenever we went somewhere as a family, my Mother was religiously the last person to walk out the door. This was a rule that she enforced, yet also resented. She didn’t want all 5 children under foot at the last minute, but as it turned out, we never completed our tasks quite to her standards. Like kids do, we left lights on, doors unlocked, and food on the kitchen table. Someone always had to pee, or worse, take a long poop right before leaving.
Ben always forgot to wear socks with his shoes. Emma didn’t brush her teeth and had to be consoled because R.J. told her she had bad breath. Then there was Eric, who had left the TV on, and me who would say some sarcastic remark and piss her off even further. Ten minutes after our projected departure time, she’d be yelling and throwing bags blindly into our van, usually impaling one of us directly in the face.
I’d bust out laughing when a random oversized tote bag knocked one of my sibling’s square in the face as Mom stormed back into the house, disappearing for another 20 minutes.
My stepdad would eventually beep the horn for her to hurry up, which was instantly followed by her yanking open the front door and screaming for him to get off his ass and come help her. Like clockwork, he’d eventually get out of the van and usher her out the door 45 minutes late. An argument always followed, with my stepdad angrily speeding down the highway while she furiously brushed her hair, throwing the loose hairs out her window, still going on about how irresponsible we all were.
A few times I can remember her yelling while her head was stuck out the window, using 60 mile an hour winds to dry her hair. I had to try hard not to laugh as her lips would flap in the breeze, doing double time to keep up with her nagging. Most of the time I felt sorry for her. She seemed so scat
tered and anxious, and I’d learned not to let her screaming penetrate my emotions. It was only when she became violent that something inside me would snap.
I can remember a time when Ben sat on the stairs, his head down while she screamed at him. She had a broom in her hand, waving it around. I watched from the kitchen sink, slowly doing the dishes. When I saw the broom handle come down on his back with a loud CRACK! I dropped my dishrag and ran towards her. It came down twice more before I was able to grab it from her, my eyes blazing with anger.
“You can hit me all you want, but you keep your hands off my brother,” I said coldly.
It would mean hours of punishment for me, but I could take it. The little ones couldn’t. I might be forced to sit and write Bible verses for hours, or she might scream at me until spit hit my forehead, but I didn’t care.
With those thoughts reeling in my memory, I had learned not to get excited about making it anywhere until we were there. Summer camp was no different, and I wasn’t allowing myself to feel even the smallest bit excited until I was on the bus, heading away from town. I just kept picturing us pulling into the church parking lot and all the buses being gone. My Mother would turn around in her seat, glaring at every one of us, and tell us how it was all our fault. I wasn’t as young as the others, and I had figured out that my Mom felt guilty about her perpetual lateness. She wasn’t trying to disappoint anyone, and I don’t think she thought it was her children’s fault. I think she just had more than one woman could handle.
Finally, Mom told us to drop our chores and start loading into the van. We tried to hide our eagerness; afraid she’d change her mind. It was an hour-long drive to the church, but once we were on the buses, we could leave her in the dust and have a full week of freedom. Upon arriving at the church, my Mom put on her smiley face and sent us off with hugs, acting as though she hadn’t just spent the last four hours screaming.
I slumped in the bus seat next to Danielle and let out a sigh of relief. She looked at me, knowing full well what I’d just been through. Thanking God I had a whole week away, I waved at my Mom from the bus window. Camp was filled with a lot of wholesome fun. I shot a .22 rifle for the first time in my life, as well as went swimming, played soccer and made loads of new friends. We had contests for the cleanest cabin, and Danielle and I rocked out the decorations winning first in line at lunch for our group.