by Robin Brande
My mother gave my fingers a quick squeeze. I smiled shyly at her. My father studied the crowd, searching out past, present, and future clients who would no doubt congratulate him on such a special day.
A line of sweat had formed on my back, and another one above my lip. My heart was doing something funny, picking up a beat it hadn’t had before. Until that moment I hadn’t realized how I would feel. Maybe I had purposely not imagined it. But now the event was speeding by, and soon I would be called upon to make a choice. And please, God, I didn’t want to.
“ . . . You have borne witness to Julie’s pledge. Does anyone know any reason why. . .”
Six more people to go.
I have a policy about my prayers. I never lie to God. What’s the point? He knows everything about me, before I even do it, so why would you ever bother to hide anything from Him? And so I prayed what was true. I prayed what He already knew.
“Adam Gosshall, do you take Christ as your Savior . . .”
I tried to catch Tessa’s eye. I think she wasn’t looking at me on purpose. I made a little noise, a cross between a chirp and a cough. She glanced in my direction. I asked her with my eyes. She didn’t seem concerned.
Why hadn’t I thought about this before? I could have done something. What kind of friend was I?
“ . . . or forever be silent.”
“We do not,” the congregation answered.
Sweat gathered in my armpits, darkening the rose fabric to red. My mother noticed the pinched look on my face. “Everything all right?” she whispered.
I didn’t know what else to do but nod.
Three more people.
I cleared my throat again. Tessa met my panicky eyes. I lifted my eyebrows, signaling she should do something, but she blinked lazily and went back to studying her nail polish.
Finally I was out of time. Pastor Mills stood in front of me. He laid his hand on top of my head.
I burst into tears.
I don’t know how brides can stand it—all those people staring at them while they say vows that come so deeply from the heart. How can you look into your almost-husband’s eyes and say how dearly you love him and how you will always be faithful to him, and not just cry your guts out? It’s like watching the best romantic movie you’ve ever seen in your life, only you’re in it. Cry, cry, cry.
“Do you, Elizabeth Aimes, promise yourself, your parents, and the Lord Jesus Christ . . .”
Yes, yes, yes!! With all my heart!! Thank you, God!
I felt something—something I had read about in the New Testament but never quite understood.
You can be intellectual all you want—study the Bible as literature—but sometimes an experience touches you, and you know you’ve finally felt the hand of God. Not theory, not mystery, but an actual, true connection.
I don’t know how else to explain it: the Spirit of God was there, inside me. Maybe it was like the early apostles, feeling that rush of wind as the Holy Spirit filled the room and made them all start speaking in tongues. It was like someone reached down my throat and clutched my heart in her hand and gave it a good squeeze to prove to me she was there. Maybe it was my guardian angel. Maybe it was God himself. I could spend the rest of my life trying to understand it.
My mother held my hand while my father slipped on the ring. It was platinum band with a platinum rose in the center. I ran my finger over the ridges of the flower petals. My father gave my hand a gentle squeeze. I have never seen my parents more proud.
And then.
My moment of grace was over. Now it was Tessa’s turn.
Pastor Mills placed his hand on her head. Tessa adjusted her shoulders and stood taller, ready to accept the blessing.
I heard Tessa say, “I do.” Watched her parents put on the ring. Watched them hug her and kiss her and stand happy beside her ready for that one final step.
“Does anyone know any reason why we may not accept this child into the body of Christ?”
“We do not.”
And that’s when I raised my hand.
My Secret Life
[1]
I’ve always thought the scariest movies are where something totally innocent-looking turns out to be demonic.
Like the newborn baby whose joyous mother holds him in her arms, and the camera zooms in on his sweet little baby face, and suddenly
EYES.
That’s it. The eyes popping open, looking straight at the camera. And maybe a subtle smile, too.
I FREAK at that. I scream. I have nightmares. Can’t get it out of my mind. Because you know right then that cute cuddly infant is Satan. And that his parents won’t find out until it’s too late.
So when Tessa faced me in Pastor Mills’ office, and her parents and my parents squeezed in there to see why I had disrupted the ceremony, I knew—KNEW—I was about to give myself nightmares with the look on Tessa’s face.
It was a combination of perfect innocence and perfect evil. Her face was smooth and relaxed, like she didn’t have a care in the world. Like she had no idea why her best friend had just betrayed her like that.
But her eyes. Her eyes. They aren’t even brown, they’re black. And when she looks at you a certain way—
If a baby’s eyes popped open and looked at the camera like that, I would have wet all over my chair.
“Elizabeth,” Pastor Mills demanded, “what’s this all about?”
I turned from Tessa’s eyes. My own filled with tears. “Nothing—I don’t know.” I covered my face with my hands. This was too hard. I knew I wouldn’t be able to go through with it—why had I started anything?
“‘I don’t know’ isn’t good enough, young lady,” Pastor Mills said.
“You ruined our daughter’s day,” Mrs. Blake said. “What on earth were you thinking?”
“Lizzie,” my mother tried, “tell us, honey. What’s going on?”
“Nothing!” I cried. “Nothing. I’m sorry! Can’t we just go back out?”
I peeked. I shouldn’t have. Tessa opened her eyes just wide enough to create a border of white all around her black pupils, making them look like a pair of bullets shot into a wall.
“Yes, Lizzie,” she said calmly, “what’s going on?”
I shook my head and wiped the back of my hands under my eyes. “Nothing. Forget it. I’m sorry.”
Pastor Mills moved from his chair to sit on the edge of his desk. I wondered if the desk could hold him. He has a belly the size of a beach ball. “Lizzie, I want an answer right now. Why did you interrupt my ceremony? Why did you raise your hand?”
“She obviously just wanted attention,” Tessa said. Then she sniffled, and pretty soon was able to work up a good cry. “Why did you have to do that?” she wailed. “Why did you have to ruin my day?”
I stood up. “Forget it. Let’s just go.”
“It’ll look pretty silly going back out there,” Pastor Mills said, “don’t you think?”
“I’ll apologize to everyone,” I said, desperate to make amends. Desperate to just get out of there. I was afraid of Tessa. I wasn’t sure what she would do.
“First apologize to me,” Tessa said. Her mouth was small and tight.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Please forgive me. Now can we go?”
“Do you know some reason why I shouldn’t bless Tessa’s pledge?” Pastor Mills asked. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
“No, sir. I don’t know why I did that. I’m very, very sorry.”
I stole a glance at Tessa to see if any of this was appeasing her. Her eyes were narrow dark slits. Please don’t ever show me a baby like that.
“She’s crazy,” Tessa said. She calmly folded her hands in her lap. “Pastor Mills, I didn’t want to have to tell you this, but now I feel Lizzie’s given me no choice.”
My back broke out in a sweat. What was she doing now?
“Lizzie’s been a bad, bad girl,” Tessa began. She shook her head at my parents. “I’m sorry to have to tell you, Mr. and Mrs. Aimes, but
Lizzie has been leading a double life.”
[2]
We did have a secret life. That much was true.
But I was just the audience. Tessa was the performer.
She told me everything: about smoking pot. Trying coke. Trying worse. Drinking from her parents’ liquor cabinet until she made herself sick. Going out with high school boys when she was still in seventh grade. Giving them oral sex like it was as simple to her as French kissing. Losing her virginity at thirteen. Sleeping her way through the high school boys at church—at least a dozen of them by the time we were fourteen.
I listened—it isn’t a sin to listen, is it? And I admit I couldn’t wait for the next installment. It was better than reading Cosmo. It was better than sneaking into an R-rated movie. Because Tessa gave me details. She told me everything, from how she touched them to how they took off her clothes to how it felt to have them inside her to how she cleaned up the evidence afterward so her parents wouldn’t find out.
But on the outside? Sure, she looked a little wilder than the rest of us with her black-dyed hair and her dark vampish makeup, but her parents thought it was cute. They saw what they wanted to see. They’d drop Tessa off for youth group, she’d wave goodbye, then run into the bathroom and change into the clothes she had hidden in her backpack, and emerge ready for whatever boy won the coin toss that night. Seriously—that was how she decided.
And I’d be there, Miss Goody Two-Shoes, with my Bible under one arm because I actually liked those evening Bible studies, and maybe Tessa would come back from her adventure in time for us to talk for a few minutes before her parents showed up again, and I couldn’t wait to hear every single word. Forgive me if that’s wrong, but I’m trying to be honest here.
And I swear, it was her—not me.
[3]
The first thing my father did when we got home was race into my bedroom and upend my top mattress.
And there they were. Just where Tessa had told everyone they would be.
As festive as party favors. String after string of colorful condoms.
Red ones, blue ones, any-kind-will-do ones.
Ribbed, smooth, glow-in-the-dark, camo, polkadot, striped, flavored, scented.
And not only that.
Pamphlets:
Do You Have an STD? Know the Warning Signs
Contraception Options for Today’s Woman
Condom Use Saves Lives
And a few other popular titles from the women’s clinic.
And some of Tessa’s paperbacks she had asked me to hide because she was sure her parents tossed her room whenever she wasn’t home.
The Always Willing Wife
School Girl Orgy
Suck Me, Hurt Me, Please Me
Teacher’s Pet
I wish I could have set fire to the whole room. I wish I had never met Tessa Blake. I wish I were a stronger person and had never agreed to hide her stuff. How stupid can you get? She pointed out that my parents were more trusting than hers, so it was best for me to hide it.
Best for her.
My father stared at all this bounty as if he had just uncovered a pile of naked boys handcuffed to my bed. If he had stroked out right then and there I wouldn’t have been surprised. I’ve never seen him so horrified by anything in my life.
I just stood there. What else could I do? The evidence was all laid out, just like Tessa knew it would be. I had already defended myself as well as I was ever going to in Pastor Mills’ office—I told them over and over it wasn’t me, it was Tessa—but they all believed her. I was the vixen. I was the slut. She was the one always trying to talk me out of it. What could I say that I already hadn’t? And that was before all the evidence was laid out in front of them. One look at my parents’ faces told me I had no chance now.
The first thing my father did was pry the Promise Ring off my finger and fling it out into the hall. Next he stormed off and returned with a screwdriver. He removed my doorknob, lock and all. It would be at least a month before he installed a new one, this time without a lock.
What could I do but take it? No one would believe me, at least not right away.
[4]
The problem with ratting out your condom storage manager is that the next time you need one—like, say, the very next day—you don’t have it.
And if you aren’t very bright—much like Tessa turned out to be—you go ahead and have sex anyway, and figure it won’t matter just this one time.
There’s no such thing as a freebie.
She would have gotten away with it if it had been with any other boy but Matt Kirksdale. But Matt actually has a conscience, and even though he’d given Tessa the money she needed for an abortion, he just couldn’t stomach keeping it a secret. He broke down and told his parents, and that was that.
So.
I, who had been booed when we returned to the sanctuary so that Pastor Mills could complete the Ceremony and declare Tessa pure—
I, who had been banned from the church because I was a bad influence—
I, who had faced two full weeks of the silent treatment from my father—
I, who was told by one of the women at church I would never be able to have children because I had treated my body like a sewer—
I nothing.
No apologies, no “oh, my God, you were right,” no new lock on my door, no “how could we ever think that?” no public vindication, no invitation back into the bosom of the church.
But, there was just one thing.
Right outside my door one morning, nearly hidden by the white carpet, my Promise Ring, just lying there, no note, no box, no nothing.
I returned it to its rightful finger and my father never said another word about it until that night when he accused me of sleeping with Jason.
My father had believed me, hadn’t he? And now he was using Tessa to prove me a liar.
I guess all was not forgiven after all.
This Whole Fable
Samuel Greaves grinned at me so smugly.
I hurried to tell my side. “All that stuff was hers—not mine.”
“My question is do you know Tessa Blake, yes or no?”
“Yes, but you don’t understand—she lied—”
“Maybe you’ll help us with that in a moment. First, would you tell the court who she is?”
I swallowed hard. “A girl I used to know from church.”
“A girl you knew very well, correct?”
“Correct.”
Toni Margress did not look happy. Hadn’t she warned me she didn’t like surprises? Well, guess what? Neither do I.
She rose from her chair. “Your Honor, this is all very interesting I’m sure, but I don’t see what relevance—”
“Did you and Miss Blake purchase condoms?”
Toni Margress remained on her feet and shot me a look of confusion. I felt outnumbered and helpless. Why did Tessa tell? Why did my father let her?
“Can we have some foundation?” Judge Beacons asked. “When are we talking about?”
“This would have been when you were what, Lizzie, thirteen?” Samuel Greaves said.
“They were Tessa’s. I swear.”
“Uh-huh, and you went with her to a women’s clinic, correct?”
“Yes, but—”
“Where you both received counseling in birth control and prevention of sexually transmitted diseases, is that correct?”
The heat on my cheeks had reached my eyes by now and I used them to try to burn a hole in Greaves’s face. He was so pleased with himself. He laid down his legal pad and folded his arms across his chest and tilted his head down to study me over his glasses. “Would you agree with me that the purpose of birth control is to prevent pregnancy?”
“Yes—”
“And that only the sexually active would be concerned with pregnancy?”
“No! I was a virgin—except for my father—” I stammered, “and I wanted to stay a virgin! I still do.”
“Well, condoms and other forms of bir
th control don’t preserve virginity, now do they?”
“No, you don’t understand—”
“So to summarize, at the age of thirteen you purchased condoms and sought counseling in the prevention of pregnancy and STDs.”
“I was doing it for Tessa!”
“Your Honor,” Toni Margress tried again, “none of this is relevant to today’s proceeding. We’re here on a child custody matter. Counsel is simply trying to harass this witness.”
“Bring it home,” the judge told Greaves. “Does this have a point?”
“The point is, Your Honor, this witness has not been truthful with the court. She has been sexually active since she was at least thirteen—”
“No, I haven’t!”
The judge held up his hand to silence me and Toni Margress caught my eye and shook her head. Why wouldn’t they let me tell my story?
Greaves continued, “—since she was thirteen, yet she claims she’s a virgin. What else is she lying about? Maybe this whole—” He waved his hand in the air. “—fable about sexual abuse is really a cover for her promiscuity. It won’t be the first time a sexually active girl has done that.”
“Objection!”
“You’ve made your point,” the judge said, “for whatever it’s worth. Move on.”
Toni Margress seemed satisfied by that. She sat down again.
Greaves shrugged and made a face and shook his head as though he were the victim of some clear miscarriage of justice. Asshole. He went back to his notes while I sat there drowning in a soup of my own sweat.
I recognized the questions for what they had been—a game, a way to rattle me—and I hated myself for letting it work. I was finished. A shattered, shaking liar up on the stand with nothing better to say for myself than my name and what grade I was in. Maybe what Greaves had said wasn’t relevant in the judge’s eyes, but the asshole lawyer hadn’t intended it that way. He was speaking just to me. He wanted me to know that my father wasn’t afraid of me. He also wanted to remind me I was lying.
Samuel Greaves laid down his legal pad and announced, “No further questions then.”
“You can step down,” the judge told me. Easy for him to say.
I felt sick, weak, completely used up.