by B S Steele
“You can’t do that. You can’t go live with your LOSER Daddy.”
“Why not? He loves me-” I started, but was stopped short, oblivious to the bullet she had loaded ready to strike me straight through the heart. She’d saved this round just for a moment like this, and I was totally unprepared.
“You can’t live with him, because he’s not your REAL Father!”
The words fell from her smirking lips like drops of lead in my ears, slowly absorbing one at a time. I was stunned.
“What?”
“You heard me. He isn’t your Father. He’s Emma’s Father, but not yours. You have never known your biological Father. You cannot live with him, because in the eyes of the law, he is NOTHING to you, unless I SAY SO,” she said smugly.
Tears welled in my eyes. I had always wondered why I looked nothing like him, but this was too much. Didn’t I have anywhere to turn?
“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! How could you lie to me all this time?!” I screamed.
She stood there, looking at me like I’d lost my mind, and then said acidly, “I should have held that pillow over your face just a little longer, all those years ago.”
I stopped crying, hardening my features, trying to understand the words she was saying.
“What?” I whispered.
She chuckled, “Oh stop it, that was a joke! You’re acting like a psychotic person, screaming that way! Why don’t you go get a cool washcloth, and clean yourself up?”
I looked at her in disbelief, hugging myself tightly.
“Aw, honey, come here. I didn’t mean to say that. If you would just learn to respect me, we wouldn’t have these problems.”
I caved as a fresh wellspring of pain escaped me. I fell against her chest letting out sobs while she patted my back soothingly. I was tired of fighting, and for now I’d accept whatever comfort I could get.
Not long after, it became quite clear to my parents that homeschooling wasn’t working. My Mother finally gave in, and let my stepdad sign us up for public school. The school was two miles up the road and held classes from Kindergarten all the way up to High school.
I hadn’t been to public school since sixth grade, and after years of ingrained teachings about the ways of worldly children, I was scared to death. I told my parents I’d resolved to continue to wear modest clothing and to keep my religious vows.
The first day of school, the country bus pulled up, and I stood waiting, my long skirt blowing in the wind. I carried my Bible with me, stacking it on top of my schoolbooks. As I sat down on one of the leather seats, a smiling boy with braces and radiant green eyes peered over the seat at me.
“So, you’re the new girl.” He said, smiling between his collection of colored rubber bands. I nodded shyly. Teenage boys at church would never approach a girl this boldly, but I was in public school now. I had to get used to it and learn how to speak up. I wished so badly my oldest brother were here to fill the seat next to me. But R.J. was attending Hyles-Anderson College. He’d escaped with big dreams of leading a church of his own. His visits were short and rare, and my heart ached from missing him.
“Can I sit next to you?” The boy asked.
I shrugged, not wanting to be rude.
At my old school, we had a six-inch rule between boys and girls, and we certainly did not sit together. His face turned bright red, but he smiled wider, amused. He noticed the Bible in my lap, and something in him seemed to understand.
“Well, I’m Noah. And that ugly fucker there is Gavin.”
He said, motioning towards a boy hunched in the seat behind him. Gavin had even lighter green eyes and light brown hair. He wore a men’s tank top, despite the chilly weather. His muscles were oversized for his age.
“And that’s Vance.” He said, motioning to another green-eyed boy, large and gentle looking, with dark hair.
“Well if you can’t sit with her,” Vance said playfully. “I will.”
My heart started to race. I didn’t want anyone to sit with me! What an awful impression I would make, all these boys crowding to sit with me!
Vance sat down anyway, plopping his large body next to mine, smelling of strong soap and hay bales. He looked at me curiously, while I looked at the ground. At least they seemed friendly, I’d been afraid no one would like me.
He stuck out his rough hand and said, “It’s nice to meet you.”
I shook his hand, and suddenly, I had friends. He told me a story about a baby duck he and his sister had saved on their farm and told that I was very pretty for a church girl. Noah piped in here and there, told me I was “hot,” whatever that meant. Laughing more than he talked.
It had been so long since I’d made new friends, I felt like I’d entered a different world, one that had unknowingly been right outside my front door. Whatever I’d been told about worldly teenagers seemed to be a far cry from what I found at my new school. It left me feeling unsure of everything I thought I knew about the world I’d been sheltered from since I was twelve years old.
Chapter 20: Bigger Britches
As the days wore on, school distracted me from the troubles at home. My stepdad still took us to church regularly, but the world was opening for me. I learned that I loved chemistry, debate class, English and literature. I learned how to make people laugh and how fun it was to swap clothes with my new friend, Faith.
I joined the band, and my confidence began to grow. I no longer relied on my Mother’s every mood to tell me how I should act, or what I should like. She called it rebelling, but I called it independence.
I still liked to wear my pretty church dresses and I still took my religion very seriously. Even hosting a small soul-winning at a lock-in I went to later that year. I met a boy I liked, and slowly tumbled into puppy love. Despite all this, my Mother was still miserable. She didn’t seem fond of my new happiness, and definitely wasn’t interested in my new friends. I tried to ignore her and just live my life, absorbing myself with school. I drew posters of my new favorite song artists, Martina McBride and Tim McGraw. Listening to them over the radio gave me hope and filled me with love and passion for the future.
At the Christian school, worldly music was a giant no-no, and could get you expelled. Now a small part of me was waking up inside, as I heard music I hadn’t heard since I was very little. I started to feel alive. Some days I’d come home, and my Mom would be there, her eyes red-rimmed and she’d still wearing the same stretch pants she had worn for over a week.
I’d find my posters taken down and thrown away, or the buttons from my radio removed. Small things to remind me that she was still in control. I defied her more, feeling stronger than I had ever felt. I learned to dodge her games, but it only made her angrier.
When Prom came around, I was desperate to go. I’d lay in bed at night and dream about beautiful gowns and the perfect dance with someone special. My friends talked about it constantly.
“My Mom is taking me all the way to Pinconning to get a dress!” One would say.
“Well, me and my Mother are going to get mani-pedis the day before, just the two of us,” another would brag.
I thought back to the last time I’d had a special occasion at my Christian school. I was forced to wear a flowered, puff sleeved dress my stepdad bought at a garage sale.
My Mom didn’t have time for dresses and pedicures. We weren’t poor, but with five of six children still living at home, we didn’t have hundreds of dollars to spend on ball gowns and tiaras. I told myself if we had more money, my Mother would take me to Pinconning too.
I told myself that they did the best they could for me and tried to see the sweetness in that one act they had done, ugly secondhand dress or not. Still, it tore at my heart, wishing just once my Mother would take me dress shopping, even if we couldn’t buy one.
I daydreamed about how she’d talk girl talk with me and get excited about my first real date. I prayed that I’d find a way to get my own dress, but as the dance grew closer, I wasn’t even sure I was going to be allowe
d to go.
“Proms are where girls go to dress and act like whores,” my stepdad would say while my Mom snickered in agreement.
I didn’t want to be a whore. I just wanted a little magic in my life.
“So, can I go? You won’t even have to take me. I can get a ride. My friend Shawn can pick me up.” I said, ignoring their teasing.
“Who is this Shawn fella?” My stepdad asked.
“He’s just a friend, nothing more. He just offered to give me a ride so I can go.” I said anxiously.
“There’s no such thing as ‘just friends,’ between boys and girls,” he scoffed.
“Where are you going to get a dress?” My Mom interjected. “We don’t have the money for that kind of indulgence.”
I sighed heavily. I hated when she made me feel like I was a burden.
“It’s not a problem. I can borrow one from one of the girls at school,” I replied.
“Ha! With what these girls wear these days?” She laughed, turning to my Dad for approval.
“Exactly, and you have a church function that night until after the dance starts, so you won’t be able to go.” He seemed to gloat at this thought.
“I never wanted to go to that stupid ice rink thing for the church. That isn’t fair.” I said crossly.
“Ah, teenagers,” my Mom said, smiling at my stepdad. “Life’s not fair, sweetie.”
I stood up from the table, slamming down the fork in my hand.
“Sit down right now, young lady!” She screeched. “I don’t know who you think you are these days, but with this attitude, I’ll be taking you out of that school before the next semester!”
Fear squeezed the breath out of me, I felt like she had just punched me in the stomach.
“You wouldn’t!” I cried, tears welling up in my eyes.
The room began to spin as I thought about the days that blurred together, no contact with any other human being other than those in my home, the hours dragging from one to the next.
She smirked at me. “Oh, don’t kid yourself, missy. You keep up these little charades, and you’ll find yourself back here where I can keep an eye on you.”
The color drained from my face, I looked to my stepdad for support. I knew he had insisted that we needed to be back in school.
He avoided my eyes, threw down his napkin, and snapped at me. “I agree. That’s just about enough of your foolishness for one day, I think.”
Suddenly, I felt angry. The fear melted away, looking into their hateful and selfish faces, I wanted to throw up.
“You can’t take me out of school,” I said acidly.
The sheer shock of hearing my tone left them staring at me.
“Oh really?” My Mother replied sarcastically.
“Really,” I said confidently. “There’s this thing I learned about. It’s called truancy. I have a right to a solid education, and unless you are prepared to prove that I have a real reason to be homeschooled, I’m old enough to make the decision to go to school.”
My Mother was stunned, but only for a moment. Her face quickly melted into disgust.
“Oh la-tee-da Ray, look what we have here, a rebellious little witch who thinks she can disrespect our rules.”
My Stepfather drew himself up to his full height, which was much taller than my 5’ 3” frame.
“I see that,” he glowered.
“I think it’s time to spank that attitude right out of her,” my Mom offered, standing up next to him.
“Go ahead,” I said evenly, keeping my gaze locked on them.
My Mom reached for the top of the refrigerator, pulling down the plank of wood they used for corporal punishment. I’d had a few good spankings in my life, but it never made me feel much more than resentment after the age of ten.
My Dad took it from her, the wood making its familiar dry sound against his hands. I straightened my shoulders, and walked into their bedroom, and bent over on the edge of their bed. I felt humiliated, but my anger stung far worse than the blows. I refused to cry, which only made it last longer. My stepdad hit hard, but he always stopped.
I was thankful he was spanking me, and not my Mother. She would not have let me leave until she saw tears.
When we were finished, I stood up, ignoring the welts, and looked him straight in the eyes, and said flatly, “It must be awkward, spanking a young lady who’s grown in her pubic hair.”
I turned and walked away, past my Mother, who was looking especially pleased with herself, until she noticed my dry eyes, of course. My stepdad stood with his back to us, frozen from shock.
“Ray! She needs another one!” She protested as I walked away. “Her attitude hasn’t changed a bit!”
She sounded desperate as I shut out her caterwauling behind my bedroom door. I’d never said anything so disgusting to my Stepfather. I felt gross for what I’d said, but it also felt good to finally say something to him. To stop pretending I was okay with the mind games he now readily joined.
I sat on my bed and sobbed. I didn’t understand why they hated me so much. Was I that bad of a child? Did I ask for too much? All I wanted was to be allowed to grow into a young woman, and to be treated with love and respect. I fell into a fitful sleep, wondering what retaliation my Mother would plan against me.
The next morning, my Mom seemed to forget about the fight we’d had, and surprisingly, she let me go with my friend Faith and her Mother to look for prom dresses. I didn’t have any money, but I was excited to see Faith and get to at least try them on and pretend that I was able to buy whatever one I chose.
We went to store after store and I watched as Faith and her Mother bantered back and forth about different gowns, arguing about slits and boob cups. Things I’d never even mentioned to my Mother, Faith was freely laughing over with hers. I tried to just be happy for her, but I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy.
“Here, Anne, try this one,” Faith insisted, handing me an awful purple dress that I’d never wear.
“Okay.” I said, taking the purple dress, along with a handful of others into a dressing room.
As I zipped and pulled, I let myself forget about my parents and the fight we had. Instead, I focused on the fact that someday, I’d be able to buy my own dresses. Any one I wanted. Maybe I’d be a famous country singer and I’d never have to talk to either of them again. Maybe I’d have so many gowns, I could even sleep in them. Gowns made of taffeta and chiffon, and the finest silk would be at my fingertips, and no one would tell me I wasn’t worthy again.
“Come out now!” Faith exclaimed. “I want to see!”
I walked out in a ridiculously poufy light blue ball gown with white orchids appliquéd down the train. It was the most beautiful dress I’d ever seen. When I walked out, for a moment, they sat in awed silence.
“What?” I said, feeling self-conscious. “It’s ridiculous, I know,” I said shyly.
“No! Oh my God, you look so gorgeous!” Faith squealed.
I smiled and felt like if I could blush, I would have. Her Mother agreed, saying that maybe my Mother would come buy it for me.
I looked at the price tag, my eyes widening when I saw that it said $500.00.
Laughing, I said, “Oh no, this one is way out of my budget.”
I tried to hide my disappointment, but Faith’s Mom sensed my sadness. I turned away quickly, blinking away tears, muttering about wanting to try on a different one. When I emerged in my regular clothes, I went back to the racks, and looked blindly through the myriad of gowns, the sound of Faith’s squealing ringing in my ears. I felt Faith’s Mom watching me and turned to smile at her. She was looking at me with pity, which was worse than any hatred I’d ever felt.
“Hey, you know, I think I saw a sparkly gold one that would look nice on you, she said softly. “It’d be perfect for a first Prom.”
“Thanks,” I said, “but I think I’m all shopped out today.” I said politely.
“Here, she said, taking it off the rack and gently pushing it into m
y hands. “Just try it on, for me.”
I groaned, then smiled, and begrudgingly went and put it on. It made me feel like a movie star, with its form fitting material and small slit in the front. It sparkled from every angle and set off my blond hair. When I stepped out of the dressing room, they were both waiting for me, and smiling at each other.
“It’s really pretty,” I said. “Thank you for today.”
Faith’s Mom got teary eyed, and laughed, “Oh, honey, we aren’t done yet!”
“And I’m buying you that dress. There’s no time to wait for your Mom to drive back down here to get it, and all the good dresses will be gone by then.”
My heart skipped a beat.
“Oh no, I can’t. I shouldn’t ask. . .”
She interrupted me, “You didn’t ask, and this is my treat, okay? You’ve been a good friend to Faith.”
I don’t think there was a girl in the world with a bigger smile than me that day. I had a dress to wear to the Prom, even if that meant hiding it from my Mother until the very last five minutes.
Chapter 21: Off Like a Prom Dress
The ice was cold and uneven, my skates catching inside the grooves from hundreds of other skaters before me. My laces weren’t tight enough despite my best efforts, and my ankles kept buckling, making me feel like a baby deer that was just learning how to walk.
My Grandma taught me how to skate when I was barely seven years old. She’d take me to the outdoor skating rink where the plow truck would pile snow on the sides as a bumper for the little kids who needed a soft place to land. I would skate as fast as I could, letting myself slam into the fluffy mound, collapsing into a heap of snow pants and mittens.
I remember the day she bought me my very first pair of skates. They were white with double blades to help me balance, looking much too small for my feet. Grandma said that they were supposed to be tiny enough so that my feet didn’t have space inside to wiggle around, a small white lie she told me to make me feel normal. Like any little girl, I dreamed about being a Ballerina, or a Figure Skater someday.