by C. B. Stagg
At church, my father preached the Word of God, but at home his sermons were different. “You are held to a higher standard than your peers because of my role in the community. Other parents may let their daughters dress like tarts and behave like whores, but I will not allow it. Everything you say—everything you do—is a direct reflection of me.”
I couldn’t even guess at how many times I’d heard versions of that sentiment come from my father’s lips. My mother was no help either. She took her role as ‘wife’ straight from the Bible, believing ‘submit to your husband’ meant she wasn’t allowed to have a backbone. So in my quest for a normal teen life, I was flying completely solo.
By the time I hit my teen years, I had become somewhat of an anomaly. I didn’t drink, I didn’t cuss, and fooling around with boys wasn’t even an option. I’d been labeled a ‘prude’ and a ‘goody two-shoes’ by the kids at school, and apparently I gave the impression I felt I was better than my friends because I didn’t attend any parties or bonfires. The truth was, I didn’t do those things because I wasn’t allowed. What teenage girl didn’t want girlfriends or boyfriends? But hampering my social development was of little concern to my father. His reputation was everything.
Isolated by my parents and ostracized by most of my peers, for a long time, my only real friends came from books. Until I started creating my own friends with paper and pen.
Part 2
“The thing worse than rebellion is the thing that causes rebellion.”
-Frederick Douglas
“Daddy, I don’t care what James Allen says. I didn’t do those things with those boys. That’s the only reason he’s starting these rumors in the first place… because I wouldn’t do it with him.”
I stomped back and forth, from one end of the room to the other. He had no faith in the daughter he’d raised, he never had, and that’s what hurt the most. “When, Daddy? When would this have happened? You never let me out of your sight!”
“I knew this would happen. Young lady, I will not allow you to bring disgrace upon our home or upon our family.” His normally dignified and somewhat attractive face lit up like a red tomato and sweat poured from his forehead as he paced back and forth across the laminate kitchen floor. He held his looped belt in one hand, slapping the other with it rhythmically, a ticking time bomb waiting to detonate.
“If you’d have been a boy, none of this would be happening. A boy would never put us through this.”
“Why can’t you just believe me? I’m your daughter! I’ve never lied to you! Why don’t you believe what I say?” I screamed, probably sending my mother straight to the whiskey she wasn’t aware I’d found stashed under the love seat, behind the towels in the bathroom cabinet, and even wedged between the wall and the dryer in the laundry room. Confrontation was my mother’s kryptonite, which I found odd since my father seemed to thrive on it.
“No daughter of mine will speak to me that way. You better get upstairs and into your room before I tan that hide of yours.” My mouth dropped open, having never seen the man get physically violent, but something was different this time. He’d snapped and I had no doubt if I pushed it, I wouldn’t just be on the receiving end of a quick swat to the thigh. No, I would feel the full wrath of the man who preached and firmly believed in spare the rod, spoil the child.
“I tell you what, girl. You won’t survive until graduation at this rate.” He snapped his belt, its pop echoing through the kitchen my mother kept spotless.
I flew up the steps as if exiting a slingshot at full force, reminding myself over and over, in less than two months, I’d graduate. Then I’d be gone, and he could kiss my ass.
In the meantime, if he wanted to accuse me of being a slut and sleeping with half the soccer team—an offense that had never once crossed my sheltered mind—maybe I needed to put a little more effort into living up to my newly acquired reputation.
Rebellious thoughts began to boil my blood, knowing that acting out was the only way to damage his most valued possession: his sterling reputation. On the contrary, if I did half of the things swirling around in my brain stem, I’d become the literal definition of daddy issues.
Shaking my head, defiance won over. I grabbed my phone and dialed. After half a ring, she answered.
“Wassup, hooker?”
“Come get me. I’m going to College Station with you tonight after all.”
Corynne, whom I’d met my freshman year in high school, was my best friend and an always willing partner in crime. She’d planned a trip from Austin up to College Station and was going to hit Aggieland in style, meeting up with a few of her friends who’d already graduated. She’d invited me like she had every time her parents allowed her to go on a grand, unsupervised adventure. But I said no, like I did every time she asked, knowing I’d always be held to a higher standard within the community.
“Hell yeah!” she squealed, piercing my eardrum. “Someone’s about to let her freak flag fly! You called just in time. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“No, that won’t work for me.” I jumped up and ran to my bathroom, locking the door and running the water to drown out my voice. “Park by the gas station on the corner. I’ll meet you in ten. I’ll hurry, I promise.” Grabbing my purse, I shoved in deodorant, my toothbrush, and my makeup bag. I ran my brush through my straight, mousy-brown hair, grateful it was long enough to twirl around into a low, messy bun. Once that was done, I changed into yoga pants and one of Corynne’s non-church-related T-shirts that she’d left behind one time or another, and stuffed my bed to look like I was sleeping. Then, I closed and locked my bedroom door for good measure, creating one more barrier between my parents’ blissful ignorance and the discovery that their only child might be the whore they’d accused her of being for as long as she’d been wearing a bra.
A cool breeze washed over me as the sun set in a pink and orange sky, casting shadows, but not quite reaching the dark cloak that dusk would have provided. I knew leaving this time of day would be a risk, but it was one I was willing to take.
I smelled freedom on the wind.
Having no more cares to give, I crawled out onto the roof, securing my window behind me. A few well-practiced acrobatic moves later, I hit the ground and hauled butt to Corynne’s Grand Am, which I found dutifully parked where she said she’d be.
“So, ho, what brings about this change in the goody two-shoes persona you’ve honed so well over the last eighteen years?”
“Two words,” I huffed, holding up two fingers, before throwing my bag in the back and slamming my door. “My. Father.”
She whistled high and loud. “Doesn’t that man know the term ‘preacher’s daughter’ has a completely different meaning than the literal one for a reason?”
I shook my head. “Well, I’m ready to make it official.” Glancing her way, I raised my shoulders. “So what are you waiting for?”
After a quick Sonic run, we were rolling down I-35, headed toward 290, with the wind in our hair and Robert Earl Keen blaring on the radio. The road goes on forever, and the party never ends. Shaking any apprehension from my mind, I prepared myself to put his words to the test. For the first time in my life, I was experiencing the sweet taste of freedom, and so far it did not disappoint.
With red dirt country blaring the whole way, we wound up making the two and a half hour drive in less than two. This left us plenty of time to grab a quick burger for dinner, find her friend’s condo, and get all dolled up for our big night out—my first. Ever. Naive to all things hip or trendy, I didn’t even bother to pack clothes because knowing Corynne as well as I did, she’d have me covered in that department. I planned to suck this experience dry, not knowing when I’d ever get another chance to let go and be someone completely different for one night. But, as our speed limit descended, my anxiety accelerated. Was I ready for this?
“Girl, I think you need to check your directions again.” The view from the passenger side window was going from bad to worse, finally bottoming out j
ust shy of shantytown. “Are you sure this is where we’re staying tonight?”
I stared at the older, townhome-type shacks, eyeing the parking lot for body-shaped chalk lines, drug deals, or something worse. The structures were strewn with old couches on their front porches. The cars were old and rusty, the dumpsters overflowing, and the stray animals were picking and eating from the debris littering the ground. It all made me wonder if this was what the apocalypse would look like. People couldn’t possibly live like this, could they?
“Kaitlin, it’s time to pierce that bubble you’ve been living in and broaden your horizons. Life is not all brick houses, perfectly trimmed lawns, church on Sundays, and dates ending with chaste kisses on the cheek. This is reality. This is what people our age do. We hang out in hovels, chase hot guys, drink on the back porch, and smoke in the front. We act our age.” Corynne looked at me once she’d put the car in park. “Now that I’ve finally removed you from the womb, let’s cut the cord and have a little fun, shall we?”
I’d be lying if I said I was anything but petrified… not only at what Corynne had planned for our big night on the town, but at what would happen when my parents found out. Because getting caught was inevitable. My best friend’s words resonated with me, though. The seemingly idyllic setting in which I’d been raised wasn’t the real world.
In a few months, I’d be away at college and out from under the watchful eye of the congregation and living independent of my father’s iron hand, so this was research. I’d been telling myself that like a broken record, though the words did little to ease my nerves. This was rebellion in its purest form, but my plan to research the life of college students seemed legitimate. Soon enough, I’d no longer be a preacher’s kid in a small town.
“So, what is this place?” My smile didn’t quite reach my eyes. Corynne looked a little surprised at our accommodations, but smiled brightly, which did nothing to quell the uneasy feeling happening in my stomach. I was going to blame that feeling on the unsavory neighborhood and not the poor life choices I was contemplating.
“Oh, I have friends who live here. Josh and Jake, my hot neighbors from my old neighborhood. You remember me talking about them right?” I didn’t, but nodded to keep her story moving. “Anyway, they’re attending school at A&M. Sophomores. They have another roommate too, I think, but I don’t remember his name. Anyway, someone is turning twenty-one, and they’re taking us along to celebrate.” She lifted up a few dead plants, and finally grabbed a key before letting us in.
“So, I guess you and the twins are pretty close since you can let yourself in and all?”
She smiled. Once we stepped into their home, we were met with clean carpet, freshly painted walls, nice leather furniture, and décor bordering on Frat House Chic—but much better than apocalyptic—so that was reassuring.
“Yeah, I’m like their little sister.” Rolling her eyes, she added, “Unfortunately. But tonight’s the night. I’m in town to get out of the friend zone and into, well… ” She shrugged.
“Well, what?” I raised my eyebrows. Regular boy/ girl relationships still remained a mystery to me.
“Well, let’s just say, after tonight, ‘little sister’ is the last thing they’re gonna think when they see me. I don’t care what it takes.”
Contemplating what she intended to do with two boys was too much for my little brain. It was one thing, talking about it, joking even, but surely she was just wanting to have a little fun and not take it that far. “Corynne, you’re planning to have sex tonight, aren’t you?” My eyes were wide.
“Oh my God, Kaitlin, of course I am,” she chided as if I’d asked if she planned to wear clothes to the bar. “The boys are already at Northgate,” Corynne commented, checking her text messages. “So get moving. Let’s hurry up and get ready to go before the bus stops running and we have to call a cab.” She stopped short. “You know, I’m not sure they even have cabs in this little town.”
What’s Northgate, and what does she mean by bus? “Why can’t we just drive?” I’d never taken public transportation in my life and wasn’t about to start now, but I kept all concerns I had for Corynne’s half-baked plan to myself for the moment. Let loose, my inner voice screamed at me. Live a little.
“Well, for starters, there’s no parking. Think of it as a smaller version of 6th street.” Sixth Street was blocks upon blocks of bars in Austin, and while I’d never been there, folklore painted a startling picture of sin and debauchery.
“And second, I plan on drinking, and I plan on you drinking even more, which means no driving. That’s where the shuttle bus system comes in handy. Plus, I don’t know my way around town too well.”
Alcohol had never graced my lips. Not even Nyquil. Drinking was a huge no-no in my home, and while my hypocritical parents made efforts to hide it, I knew that in this particular case, they certainly did not practice what they preached. Maybe it was time I learned what all the fuss was about.
Much to my dismay, Corynne only brought two outfits with her for this particular night on the town. She poured herself into a little black dress—a skin-tight Calvin Klein little black dress—which she’d accented with strappy black platforms any stripper would covet. I was left with a turquoise, boho-style peasant dress. I paired it with cowgirl boots embroidered with turquoise thread and a matching blingy leather belt. It was less formal, and less formfitting… but no less sexy. I let my hair fall from its impromptu bun. I ruffled it with my fingers for a minute, letting the mess I’d created cascade, resting an inch or two past my shoulders. I’d gone against my father’s wishes and let a girl in my high school’s cosmetology program streak my hair with chunky blonde highlights. As a last-minute addition, I slipped on a pair of Corynne’s tortoise shell dummy glasses. They punctuated the boho chic/ hippy statement I was going for.
Standing on the edge of the bathtub, one look in the mirror had me praying I didn’t drop anything or everyone would get a sneak peek at everything God gave me. And while my insides were a quivering bowl of jelly, from the outside, I looked like I fit right in, walking along the streets in this big city with its small town, country-roots feel.
After taking a sinus-clearing shot of Jägermeister—another in what would be a long list of firsts for the night—we were able to catch a TAMU shuttle bus to University Avenue, easily spotting the strip of bars commonly referred to as Northgate. Our first stop was the Dixie Chicken, where we met up with Josh and Jake, twin Greek Gods with hair black as the night sky, eyes like perfectly polished onyx stones, and thick, dark eyelashes for days. They were way too pretty to be boys, but I considered myself lucky to be seen with them in public. We moved up on the food chain being in their presence, and by the way their eyes drank both of us in, head to toe, it was clear we were all on the same page.
“Well, look what we have here. I think we’ve got the hottest dates in town.” One glance around the crowded, wood-paneled bar told me they were lying fools, but I took their compliments with a smile and an introduction.
“Hi, I’m… Lynn.”
Corynne shot me her angry eyes as I offered only the second syllable of my name to the boys, along with my right hand. I used my left to pinch her upper thigh. I’d never see these people again after tonight, and I certainly didn’t need it getting back that Kaitlin Weston, daughter of evangelical preacher Jonathan Joseph Weston, had been out barhopping with older men while underage and underdressed.
“Lynn, nice to meet you. I’m Josh, this is my brother Jake, and… ” he scanned over the tops of what had to have been a hundred heads before nodding in the direction of the actual bar, “that’s our buddy Wade over there.”
I aimed my eyes in the direction his finger pointed and saw what had to be at least forty guys, ages eighteen to fifty, gathered around that general area. I smiled and nodded, pretending I knew exactly who he was talking about as the shot of alcohol I’d consumed not twenty minutes earlier started bleeding into me, warming me from top to bottom.
“Here—for
you,” Jake said, handing me a beer. Or was it Josh? Who could tell and who even cared? Either way, I took it. “Now, you can drink that because I poured it, but do not set it down and do not take a drink from anyone other than Josh, Wade, or me, got it?“
I nodded, directing my terrified eyes to the bottom of my cup and took a gulp from the lukewarm substance. The boys stifled a giggle, telling me my face must have mirrored my taste buds.
Corynne stomped on my toe and whispered, “Stop acting like you’ve never left the convent, okay?” She brought her almost-empty cup up to block any would-be lip reading. “You’re messing up my game.”
Nodding again, I drank the rest of the beer, making a conscious effort to mask the fact it tasted like room temperature urine.
“Can you believe I didn’t get ID’d? What kinda shit is that? Every other time I get ID’d, but on the day I’m actually legit? Nope. She hands me the pitchers and shoos me on.”
I met eyes with a guy who rivaled the twins in size. He was pale, almost pink, and his hair—what little I could see under his Houston Astros baseball cap—was a long and wavy dirty blond mop. His strong jaw was adorned with a dirty blond beard, suggestive of Ryan Gosling in The Notebook. I had to physically sit on my hands not to reach out to confirm it was as soft as it appeared. His eyes were the only thing I wasn’t too sure about, remaining hidden under the shadow created by the carefully shaped brim of the baseball cap he wore low on his head. I struggled not to stare, but the alcohol was showing its dominance with each sip. It was a fact I wish I’d been sober enough to make note of before my control ran away from me like a freight train.
“Ahh, there’s the birthday boy.” Both of the twins stood and beat the man on the back, nearly causing him to spill his pitchers of beer all down my front. “Wade, let me introduce you to our friend Corynne and her friend Lynn.”