My parents were all smiles at the ceremony and didn’t react the least bit, but rather made me feel special despite the big letdown. Once again thinking the best of me, they figured that public high school had been very challenging for me since I had been a “fish out of water.” They knew I didn’t curse, didn’t smoke, and didn’t have sex like most of my fellow students. They had never given me a hard time about my grades. And even though I would be spending my summer in school, my parents remained proud of me.
The following Sunday, Junior’s was bustling with people piling in from churches around the city. It was always open late, and they had the best cheesecake in New York City, displayed in a case to entice you as you walked in from Flatbush Avenue. The atmosphere was always charged, no matter how late at night it was, and our table from Brooklyn Tabernacle would often be the loudest crowd. My dad and mom loved to laugh and loved to be with people. Regardless of how tired they were at the end of a long Sunday, they would host friends and visitors regularly.
Junior’s was one of the backdrops of my life because I had been there just about every Sunday night since I was a little girl. I would fall asleep many times right at the table, and Dad would carry me to the car and then to my room. The sound of laughter and table discussions about ministry and what God was doing in people’s lives were some of the things that colored my world growing up.
This particular summer night, it was especially crowded, with people waiting in line at 11:00 p.m. for their orders. We were already seated and enjoying roast beef sandwiches, bagels and lox, hot fudge sundaes, and decadent strawberry cheesecake when I noticed a man from another table walk over and put something into Dad’s hand. Dad got up from his table and walked over to me.
“Chrissy, come here a sec. Let’s go outside. I want to show you something.”
“What is it, Dad?” I said, totally confused. He didn’t respond but starting walking toward the door, so I quickly followed.
As we were walking out of the restaurant, Dad passed the table where the man was sitting. Dad put his hand on the gentleman’s back and said, “Thanks so much for everything.”
We crossed to the other side of Flatbush Avenue and Dad handed me a set of keys. “How do you like it? It’s yours.”
There was only one car parked on the block—a shiny gray Mitsubishi Galant.
“What? Dad, you’re kidding . . . right?”
The man from the restaurant had joined us by now. “I gotta be honest with you,” he said, smiling at me. “It was really hard for me to sell this car to your dad. Not because I don’t love him, but because I love this car! It has every bell and whistle you could possibly imagine—power everything, a sunroof, and control buttons all over the steering wheel. Let me show you all the features.” All three of us got in.
I was stunned. Could this be mine? My parents don’t have a car this nice. It had to be expensive. My dad’s friend reminded me of a little kid showing off his favorite toy. I was sitting in the front passenger seat. I turned around, looked at my dad, and mouthed the words “Thank you!” When the demonstration was over, we got out and headed back into the restaurant. I gave Dad a kiss on the cheek, and before I could say anything he said, “You need a nice car. You’re my Chrissy.”
In the weeks that followed after the high of getting a new car, I went into a free fall of panic because my departure date for Bible college was drawing nearer. I was with Jaye incessantly, hanging on to every moment we had together, denying that I would soon be leaving him. The more time we spent together, the more I would make up stories, telling my parents that I was trying to see my friends as often as possible since I was going to miss them so much. What started out as one of the best decisions I had ever made had now become a smoke screen, drawing everyone away from how I was actually doing. The car was the last sign of how final my leaving home truly was—my parents’ assurance of my finding God’s plan for my life. But God’s plan wasn’t on my mind much now at all. Actually, I even found myself starting to belittle the way God had visited me that night as just something I must have made up. At this point nothing at all was worth losing Jaye for.
I was going through changes. We were spending so much time together, but instead of feeling the assurance from him that I was looking for, I left every date feeling more and more insecure about everything. He was still acting indifferent about my leaving, and it was like pouring fuel on a fire. My obsession to win his affection drove me to think about giving him more.
Our dates had been ending with kissing for the last month or so, and even then I felt guilty because of the sort of things that were going through my mind when we kissed. I was so naive, so inexperienced. Sure, I had desires like any seventeen-year-old, but I could feel my heart craving something more than any craving my seventeen-year-old body had. My greatest need when I was with Jaye was to know if I was good enough. I needed him to find me so special that he would never want to be away from me. One night I let go and did what I hoped might seal the deal. Jaye and I went all the way. We had sex.
It was 2:30 a.m. when I pulled into the driveway, and just looking at my house startled me. Everything it represented was everything I wasn’t anymore. I turned the lock with my key and slowly opened the front door, hoping that it wouldn’t creak on the hinge. I had never come home this late before; my parents probably thought I had been sleeping for the last three hours. I took off my heels and carried them as I tiptoed through the house to make my way downstairs. Every room was pitch black and the darkness accentuated how scared I felt. Yes, my heart had been growing colder lately, but not so cold that the little girl inside of me had completely disappeared. I felt more hypersensitive with every minute that passed since being with Jaye.
I walked into my bedroom and saw five outfits lying on my bed; I had tried on every one that night before getting ready to go to meet Jaye. On my vanity, my makeup and hair products and jewelry were scattered in a big mess. Pulling my makeup bag out of my purse, I stopped and slammed it on top of the pile, scattering its contents all over.
I undressed to take a shower and felt more naked than I ever had before. I turned on the water, and stepping into the stall, I could see myself in the mirror through the glass door. As the water ran over my hair and down my face, my layers of black mascara began to bleed down my cheeks and onto my lips. I took the soap and a washcloth and started scrubbing. I didn’t want to do it this way! I feel so dirty!
I toweled off and put my pajamas on, looking at the mess I needed to clean up. A tidal wave of emotions came upon me, and I didn’t know what to do with them. I was alone and still felt naked even though my body was covered. Lying in bed, the numbers on the clock radio seemed to be screaming at me to turn on the music.
I didn’t want to hear it. For just a few minutes, I didn’t want to be the girl in the song.
EVERYTHING CHANGED IN THE MORNING. I woke up needing to hear his voice, needing to know where he was, needing to know what he was doing at that very moment. I had given myself to Jaye, and now I was his. I didn’t know that along with being intimate, I would also be giving him my heart. I didn’t realize that they were attached, a package deal. As he was going about his morning as usual, Jaye probably didn’t have a clue about what was going on inside of me.
I would usually call him from our home phone when no one was around or when I was absolutely sure that my parents wouldn’t pick up the phone to make a call. Today I wanted to speak to him badly enough to take new risks, so without checking, I sat on the edge of my bed and dialed his number. Immediately my pulse quickened, and with each ring I got more excited to hear his voice. I could only imagine what he was going to say this morning, the passion that would be in his tone.
After several rings, he picked up. We talked for a few minutes about general stuff and my anticipation began to subside. It seemed like our conversation was business as usual, almost as if I were talking with someone I barely knew. Maybe I was just naive, but I thought it would somehow be really different today. Tha
t Jaye would be more loving and tender toward me. There was none of that. Actually it felt as though our conversation was more shallow than it had ever been.
I didn’t know how to bring up my concern, so I asked, “Where do you want to meet later? I can pick you up.”
“Wherever you want,” he said.
“Okay. I’ll pick you up at the train at six. Um . . . love you,” I said, not sure I believed what I had just said. I waited for him to end the conversation.
“Chris!” I nearly jumped out of my skin at Dad’s voice. I heard him running down the steps to my bedroom. “I’ve got to hang up.” Click.
Whew. I didn’t even know Dad was home. He could have easily picked up the phone. Oh no! Does he want to talk to me because he knows what I did last night?
The thought paralyzed me for a moment, as the horrific idea sunk in. Dad knocked on my door. He knows! What will I say? What will he do?
“Chris, can I come in?”
“Sure, come in, Dad.” In the two seconds it took for him to open the door, I felt my life passing before my eyes.
“Hi.” He smiled at me with the sweetest, most gentle expression. No doubt my face was two shades whiter.
“Hi, Dad.” I leaned over and pretended to make my bed so I wouldn’t have to look him in the eyes.
“Hey, I thought we could go to the department store today and buy you some things for college. Would you like that?”
I propped up the pillows on my bed, wanting to burst from sheer relief, but I smiled instead, holding my breath. “Uh, I would love that.”
“Then get dressed! I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes. How’s that sound?”
“Great, Dad.” I walked over to my closet, still averting my eyes. He started to leave the room but then came back in. “Oh, and I thought we could go to that place you love for lunch if you’d like.”
My eyes began to tear up as I pulled a blouse out of my closet. “I would love that, Daddy.” As soon as he closed the door behind him, I completely broke down.
I came upstairs, dressed not for my shopping trip with Dad, but for my dinner with Jaye. When Dad came into the kitchen, he said, “Wow, Chrissy, you look so pretty in that outfit! Hey, you think we could buy Mom something like that today?” Guilt assaulted me. Dad always makes me feel like a princess, like the most perfect girl in the world.
“Carol,” he shouted upstairs. “I’m going with Chrissy; we’ll be back soon.” As we walked to the car, I realized that I was still shaking from the scare downstairs. Dad and I had not been alone like this in a long time, and today I carried a secret that would devastate him if he knew. The whole trip to Macy’s, I did everything I could to act normal and not fall apart. His love and tender affection toward me was piercing my heart. After we arrived and parked, then Dad quickly jumped out, heading to the store entrance to open the door for me. “Chris, what do you think you want to wear at Bible college? Casual or dressy clothes?”
“You know, I haven’t thought about that yet.” I smiled at how thrilled he was to be with me.
Dad grabbed my hand and held it as we strolled through the store. He squeezed it three times and I glanced at him. I love and admire you so much, Dad. He was my security. When my hand was in his, I always knew I was safe. When I was with him, I never once doubted his love for me. Makeup or no makeup. Pretty clothes or just wearing my pajamas. I knew there was no changing his heart for me.
I could tell by the direction we were going that he was taking me to my favorite department. He knew from the time I was a little girl that one of the things that delighted me most was a beautiful pair of shoes. There they were, the summer’s newest arrivals—bright sandals and heels in vibrant colors. The seats were all filled with women trying on stacks of shoes while others were analyzing their selections in the full-length mirrors throughout the department. There was usually nothing that could cheer me up quite like a pair of shoes, but today I wasn’t interested.
“Do you like any of these?” Dad asked, picking up five different shoes. His expression was so hopeful.
“They’re really nice, Dad.”
He motioned to the salesperson. “Would you bring these out for my daughter in an 8½?”
I felt beads of sweat prickle on the back of my neck; my nerves were starting to fray. “Dad, please . . . you don’t have to do that.”
It was too late; there was no stopping him. The cashier rang up two pairs of shoes, and Dad smiled as he handed me the bag. Without saying anything, he took my arm and led me to the ladies’ clothing section.
All of my favorite brands were there. “Chrissy, find some things to try on,” he said. “Pick some outfits you really like.” My heart ached because I knew that for my dad, giving a gift was one of his ways of showing me how much he loved me. It was coming from a deep place within him that was hopeful and pure.
Grabbing the first things I saw on the racks, I headed for the fitting room. “I’ll be right out,” I told him. When I looked back to see if he’d heard me, I saw him browsing the racks for Mom. I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. I pushed open the door to one of the fitting rooms, dropped the clothes on the floor, and collapsed next to them, sobbing bitterly. How can I secretly hurt someone I love so much? What has he done to deserve this?
Looking at myself in the fitting room mirror, I was disgusted not only by the clothes, but by the person staring back at me. I took some foundation out of my purse and smeared it under my swollen eyes, but the tears kept running. I grabbed a garment lying on the floor and wiped my face with it. I hated myself. If only there were a way to turn back the clock. There’s no way he can know that I’ve been crying in here, I thought. What reason could I give? If I tell him the truth, it will crush him. If I tell him a lie, it will crush him too.
I came out of the fitting room with a few things that Dad quickly grabbed and took to the cashier. I didn’t want any of them. I had a knot in my stomach and wanted to run away at that moment . . . if only I could. As I looked away, trying to hide my face from him, a couple walking down the aisle caught my attention. They were both good looking and were flirtatiously joking with each other. I studied them as they came closer. She was dressed provocatively with such an air of confidence about her. And the way he looked at her! He seemed absolutely crazy about her, evident in the way he touched her and how he gazed at her.
At that moment, thoughts began to ricochet through my mind. This is what I want, what I live for. I wonder how Jaye and I appear when we walk down the street. Does he have that look in his eyes for me? Perhaps my clothing is too modest. My mind had shifted so fast to these thoughts, I almost forgot I was with Dad. I looked down at what I was wearing. It’s all wrong. I need to be more like her. Especially because I’m going to see him tonight.
“Chrissy, are you okay?” Dad asked, looking slightly concerned.
Oh no, maybe he can tell that I’ve been crying.
“I’m fine Dad. I was just thinking about the shoes you bought me, and how much Mom is going to love the things you’re getting her.”
“Okay. Are you sure?”
“I’m fine.”
“Well, let’s get lunch then,” he said. As he placed another bag in my hand, I gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you so much, Dad. You shouldn’t have done all this.”
“Hey! Don’t tell me what to do,” he answered in his typical fun-loving way. He grabbed my hand again as we left Macy’s and walked to my favorite lunch spot.
At the table I tried my hardest not to show it, but I couldn’t get the image of that couple out of my mind. The way he looked at her. He was totally mesmerized. I thought I knew what it was to feel insecure because I had been battling with it for so long now. But the imprint of that scene and the feeling the day after losing my virginity made me feel like I was becoming disconnected from everything and everyone I believed in. I could tell I was unraveling and starting to lose myself. I wasn’t sure if I knew anymore how to be Chrissy.
“MOM, YO
U WON’T BELIEVE HOW NICE THESE DORMS ARE!” I paced back and forth, pulling on the long phone cord and admiring my new room. “I really love it here.”
“Chris, that’s wonderful! I am so thrilled that you like it!” I could sense her excitement through the phone. “How do the different things we bought look in your room? How’s the comforter set? Does it fit?”
“Everything’s perfect, Mom. And the campus . . . it’s incredible! It’s gotta be the nicest and best-run Christian school in the country, I think. Oh, and the students are just great! They’re so friendly. Several of them have reached out to me and have really made me feel at home. When I introduced myself, they knew about you and Dad and the church. I guess there’s no escaping, huh?”
We laughed together. “And they’ve commented on how ‘New York’ I dress and carry myself. One guy, with his strong southern accent, said, ‘Girl, there ain’t no way you come from anywhere near Baton Rouge, Louisiana!’ I didn’t know I had a sign hanging around my neck. It was pretty funny.”
“Chris, are guys checking you out already?” Mom said teasingly. I could tell she wanted the full scoop.
“The ones who have introduced themselves to me, yeah, I guess, but they’re not my type.” Anytime my mom brought up the subject of guys, I couldn’t help but get nervous that somehow the door might open about Jaye. In an attempt to change the topic I asked, “What’s new with you? How’s everything going there?”
“Everything’s fine—just really busy as usual. You know, today I’ve actually been thinking that I might start a new album project. I’m leaning toward putting a few of those songs I played for you on it—what do you think?”
Girl in the Song Page 9