— Patience, Emily. In due time.
SURPRISE DAY ISN’T A REAL holiday. Their mom invented it so that Emily and Lenora don’t feel left out when all the other kids at school get lots of new toys and clothes for Christmas. Of course no one has ever actually admitted that aloud; they wouldn’t be allowed to celebrate it if they did. Just like no one has to tell Emily not to mention Surprise Day in front of other brothers or sisters from the Hall.
Emily sits on the thick brown carpet in front of the coffee table, while Lenora lounges on the floor, leaning against her favourite armchair. Her arms stick to the brown vinyl and make a peeling noise when she moves. Their parents perch on either end of the itchy orange floral sofa. Across from the couch, the television is dark. Next to the closet, a gun rack hangs on the wall. Their mom complained so much about seeing their dad’s hunting rifles there, he put them just out of sight, in the front corner of the living room closet, and now they hang their coats and hats and scarves on the gun rack. He hardly ever goes out hunting anyway.
Each of them holds a gift on their lap. Emily likes the heaviness of her thick silver package, and she keeps lifting it up and setting it back down. She does this twelve times before her father tells her to sit still. She can hardly wait to tear the paper off and start reading.
For their father, Emily and Lenora helped their mom pick out some new ties to wear to the meetings; he’d been wearing the same three over and over. That was easy, but they’d argued over what to get their mom. They agreed on a necklace, but Emily wanted to get one with a pendant of the comedy and tragedy theatre masks, since her mom used to be an actress. Lenora thought that was a bad idea.
— You know Dad always gets mad when Mom mentions her past, before she was in the Truth. Then they’ll fight and it’ll ruin Surprise Day. You don’t want that to happen, do you?
Emily shrugged.
— I guess not. Her mom has a box at the back of her closet full of photographs and programs from plays she was in. It’s behind her old boots. Emily doesn’t let on that she knows it’s there. She loves to look through it when Lenora is babysitting her and on the phone for hours. Her mom wore all sorts of different costumes, from puffy Shakespearean dresses to silver princess gowns and even a black witch outfit. Emily tries not to look at that one, since witchcraft is Satanic, but she loves all the other pictures. Some are even from the newspaper, with her name in bold letters under a picture of her in Elizabethan costume: Juliet, played by Vivian Golden. There are even some from when she and Uncle Tyler were kids, like the one where they’re holding hands in homemade robot costumes.
Their dad never talks about her acting days and whenever their mom or someone else does, he always says something like that was then and this is now or that was a long time ago and that’s the end of that conversation. Lenora is right; they shouldn’t risk making their parents fight. They settled on a plain silver locket instead.
Emily doesn’t know what Lenora’s gift is. Her mom wouldn’t tell her. It’s wrapped in red and green wrapping paper that’s covered with fat, stripy candy canes. Her father runs his hands through his short salt and peppery hair.
— That’s not very neutral gift wrap, Vivian.
Everyone is quiet and Emily can hear the crickets outside. Seven chirps before her mother speaks. She shrugs her thin shoulders.
— It was on sale.
— That’s not the point. It’s inappropriate.
— There’s no Santa Claus or Christmas trees on it, it’s not that bad.
— It’s not what we discussed.
— Fine. Her brown hair bounces as she stands, and falls across her face when she reaches for Lenora’s present.
— Hey! Can’t I just open it and throw away the paper? Come on!
Her mom snatches the box, stomps upstairs, and slams the bedroom door.
Ten minutes pass and no one speaks. Emily doesn’t know what to do; she can’t open her gift when Lenora has nothing. They wait and wait, and avoid looking at one another, and then their mom returns to the living room and they all exhale at once.
— Here. She thrusts the same box, sloppily wrapped in plain red paper, at Lenora.
— Gee, thanks.
Their father says a long prayer about thankfulness and obedience and forgiveness. Emily thinks he’s going slowly on purpose, to make her wait even longer, but then feels guilty for criticizing her dad’s prayer. She’ll ask Jehovah God to forgive her later, when she says her bedtime prayer. Together they murmur “Amen” and it’s finally time to open presents.
— Youngest first! Youngest first!
— Okay, okay. Her mom smiles a little and Emily is relieved.
— You go first, and then Lenora.
Emily rips the paper off as fast as she can and throws it behind her. It’s her book! It’s Circus World, five hundred glossy pages of elephants, trapeze artists, jugglers, tigers, and her favourite, the tightrope walkers.
— Thank you thank you thank you! Emily hugs the book to her chest and grins.
Lenora opens hers neatly, not shredding the paper like Emily at all, then folds it up and gives it back to their mother to reuse.
— All right! Lenora cheers when she finds her very own Walkman in the box. She pulls the headphones over her dark blond hair, switches on the radio, and closes her cat-like green eyes.
— I’m going to open mine later.
Their mother sets her gift aside and looks straight ahead, jutting her pointed chin toward the window. Their father sighs.
— I guess that means it’s my turn.
He smiles at Emily and Lenora, but it’s a fake smile. It doesn’t look like he’s paying attention to what he’s doing, and he sneaks glances at their mom when he thinks Emily isn’t looking. Their mom isn’t interested in opening her gift at all; it sits beside her untouched as she stares out the window and swishes the rest of her coffee around the bottom of her mug. Their father holds each tie up and admires it in turn, but Emily knows he’s still angry about the worldly wrapping paper. She’s glad they didn’t get their mother the theatre necklace after all.
4
SNOW FALLS IN THICK SWIRLS, and Emily tilts her head up, smiling — winter is her favourite season, even though it contains Christmas. The cold and snow simultaneously calm and thrill her; her whole being overflows with a buzzing peace that no one but her can understand.
She’s walking home from school by herself, amid the shouts and the snow angels of her worldly classmates, though Lenora is supposed to meet her at 3:30 every day. Their parents set up this arrangement at the beginning of the school year, when the bus routes changed. The Morrows’ house is on the edge of town, and used to be the first stop on the after-school route, but as the town grew, Emily’s family and their neighbours were no longer considered rural. The walk takes about half an hour, and Emily enjoys doing it alone, it makes her feel more grown-up. A couple of weeks ago, Emily made it all the way home without Lenora, even though she walked as slow as she could. Lenora got in big trouble when she showed up half an hour later.
— She’s just a little kid, what were you thinking? She could have been kidnapped or run over!
Lenora claimed she’d told them she needed to stay late after school to use the library, but their mother didn’t believe her.
— I’m not that little.
Emily knows how to walk on the side of the road and move over for transport trucks, she isn’t stupid enough to get hit. As for the kidnappers and the child molesters, she would fight them off, she would wail as loud as possible and run away, she would scream like they teach the women at the Kingdom Hall. Jehovah would protect her, she would pray out loud, she would shriek, and also grab a stick and poke out their eyes. They wouldn’t be able to see her and that’s how she would escape.
Screaming, however, is most important. The elders won’t believe you if you don’t scream, because if no one hears you, ther
e won’t be any witnesses, and you need a witness to prove to a Judicial Committee what really happened. Some sisters have said they were attacked, but there was no evidence that they fought anyone off, so everybody knows it was just an excuse to commit immorality. They have since been disfellowshipped, and no one in the congregation is allowed to speak to them.
Lenora was grounded for two weeks for not walking Emily home from school, and after dinner that night, she cut out the last page of one of Emily’s Trixie Belden mystery books and chopped it into a thousand pieces.
— I told you to always wait for me! Snarling, scissors held above her head, Lenora shredded nouns and verbs and adjectives and they floated to the floor like terrible confetti.
TODAY SHE DOESN’T MIND THE walk home alone, and she catches snowflakes on her tongue, kicking at the powder already accumulating on the ground. Her mom would tell her not to eat the snow, that it’s filthy and polluted, but Emily thinks this way is acceptable: she catches the flakes in mid-air, they cannot be dirty if they haven’t even touched the ground yet. The snow falls straight from heaven into her mouth.
Emily is also happy because they don’t have to go to the Kingdom Hall tonight, even though she knows it’s wrong to feel that way. It’s just that she gets bored sometimes, and the meetings are so long. She’s glad that she won’t have to wear a dress or sit silently for two hours, because it’s Monday, and the meetings are on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays, which is also the day they go out in door-to-door service. Sometimes they go on Saturdays too.
Cars move past more slowly than usual, and Emily hopes that Lenora will be able to see her through the snow. A few more drive by but no one stops, and she is halfway home. Emily looks down to check her watch, and something hits her in the face — an explosion, she stumbles, she can’t see — cold, sharp clumps of ice slide down her cheek and neck. It stings more than a slap across her face.
— What’s the matter, didn’t Jesus save you? You gonna cry, you little Jesus freak?
Tammy Bales laughs shrilly in front of her. Even with one eye closed, Emily sees her pick up another handful of snow.
— Shouldn’t you be out knocking on people’s doors, you loser?
Emily says nothing, and silently prays, Please Jehovah, make Tammy stop persecuting me, please don’t let her hit me again, in Jesus’ name, Amen.
— What’s the matter, freak, you scared? Tammy laughs again and raises her arm. Instinctively, Emily ducks.
— You’re pathetic, you and your whole family. We almost set the dogs on you yesterday, you and your nerd father, all dressed up carrying your Bibles around.
Tammy shoves her, and Emily trips over her own feet and falls onto the side of the road. A car sounds its horn, swerves, and keeps going.
— That’s right, we were home yesterday, but we didn’t answer the door. We hid behind the curtains, my mom and my sister and me, laughing laughing laughing at you!
Emily gets up and tries to walk past her, tries to ignore her, but Tammy blocks her way. She concentrates and bites her cheeks — she will not cry in front of Tammy — and they stand in the snow at the side of the road, facing each other. Tammy isn’t even wearing a hat or gloves.
— Say something, you freak!
— No! Emily tries to shout, but Tammy is faster and bigger, and pushes her down again. Emily lands in the ditch, and then Tammy is on top of her, knees pinning her arms down in the slush as she piles fistfuls of ice and snow in her face. It feels like thousands of needles stab her cheeks. Emily cannot scream, there is too much snow in her mouth, and this snow is not from heaven, it is filthy. Emily gags and gags and she can’t get up.
— Hey! A car door slams but Tammy doesn’t stop.
— Get off my sister, you slut! Lenora screams at Tammy and pulls her off, while someone else hauls Emily up by her wrists.
— You okay, kid?
Emily doesn’t recognize her. She wears a black and white striped hat, big boots up to her knees, a short plaid skirt, and a black wool coat. Her black eyeliner is thick around her eyes and her lips are black too.
Emily starts to cry, and spits out the dirty snow, and the strange girl wipes Emily’s face with a tissue. A tall boy with a shaved head and black leather jacket leans against the blue sedan. A half-smile sits crooked on his face and his arms are folded across his wide chest. He pulls a cigarette from a blue and white package and lights it, still watching Emily. She has definitely never seen either of them before.
Lenora, bigger than Tammy and even louder, chases her a few paces down the road. They stop, and Lenora’s hands are on her hips and she’s looking down, shouting right into Tammy’s face.
— Pick on someone your own size, you loser! Just because you failed almost every grade doesn’t mean you can beat up little kids!
— Fuck off! Tammy’s face is scrunched up and she takes an unsteady step backwards. She looks back toward Emily and Lenora’s friends.
— No, fuck you, loser! Lenora’s blonde hair blows and whips around her head like she’s in a tornado and her feet are wide apart and her cheeks blaze. She spits, and it lands very close to Tammy’s feet.
— Now get lost. It’ll be worse next time.
— Whatever. As if I care. Tammy shoves her hands deep into her pockets and starts walking down the other side of the road. Emily watches her fade into the snow and disappear.
— Let’s get out of here. Get in the car, Emily.
Emily stays where she is. She doesn’t know the girl driving the rusting car, or the silent boy who stares at them, and they’ll get in trouble if they get a ride from worldly kids. Snow pelts her face and stings her eyes and her wet coat and boots are too heavy for her to move in.
— Lenora . . . She tries to whisper.
— We’re not allowed—
— Hurry up! It’s freezing! Lenora opens the door to the back seat and pushes Emily in.
— Just drop us off before the bend in the road by my place, okay, Marla?
Emily doesn’t argue. Lenora knows what’s right and wrong, so this must be okay. Maybe there are different kinds of worldly people, the kind to avoid — persecutors, like Tammy Bales — and the kind who aren’t so bad, who even help you. Maybe Lenora even Witnesses to them, maybe she gives them copies of The Watchtower and Awake! and pretty soon they’re going to start coming with them to the meetings. Before high school, her sister often convinced kids from primary school to come to the Hall with them, until they started asking their parents if they could stand out in the hallway with Lenora during the national anthem at school too, and then their parents made them stop.
Emily tries to picture Lenora’s friends sitting attentively on Sunday morning, but then sees the boy in his leather jacket slumped and scowling, legs sticking out in the aisle, an unlit cigarette tucked behind his ear. The sisters would cluck and frown at Marla’s thick black eyeliner and lipstick and short skirt. Still, imagining them at the Hall makes Emily feel better as they drive through the slush, closer and closer to home.
Then Lenora turns to the boy and touches his shoulder.
— Give me a drag, will you?
He turns around, winks, and hands Lenora a cigarette. Emily goes rigid next to her. She’s never seen Lenora smoke before. Cigarettes and drugs are against their religion. Lenora puts it into her mouth and sucks on it, as her eyes crinkle and she coughs a little.
— Shut up. Lenora responds as though reading her mind.
— Don’t look at me like that. And stop crying. Good thing I came along when I did, seeing as you can’t take care of yourself. She dabs Emily’s face with her damp scarf and it scratches her cheeks like sandpaper. The cigarette smoke fills the car and hurts Emily’s nostrils and she sniffles. Until then, she didn’t even realize she was still crying.
She says nothing about the smoking. What would have happened if Lenora hadn’t been there? Maybe Tammy woul
d have beaten her up so badly that she’d still be lying in the ditch, unconscious, as the snow fell and covered her. She could have frozen to death and no one would find her until the spring, a sodden lump on the side of the road. It would be her own fault for not being able to stand up to Tammy. No one picks on Lenora; she’s strong and isn’t afraid of anyone. Emily doesn’t know why Jehovah God didn’t make her more like her sister.
The girl driving the car turns the music up so loud they can’t hear each other. The three teenagers pass the cigarette around until they pull over. There are smears of black lipstick on the end of it. Emily feels as though she’s been dropped into an unfamiliar universe, one happening at the same time as the regular world, but just off by enough to be completely wrong. She decides she’ll have to find out more about her sister’s secret life. Just like Trixie Belden, she’ll have to be a detective and start following Lenora. Maybe she’ll even figure out some way to make the two universes back into one.
— Thanks for the ride. As they get out, the boy rolls down his window and Lenora leans in toward him, and they murmur to each other, smiling. Then she waves her arm toward Emily.
— Sorry about all this. She grabs her sister’s school bag and carries it the rest of the way home for her.
— You’re not going to mention this to Mom or Dad when we get inside, are you?
Emily is not a tattletale. Sometimes she forgets that she’s not supposed to mention certain things and talks too much, but she doesn’t believe in ratting on her sister. Lenora always has a good reason for everything, even if it seems wrong at first. One day, soon, she will be able to fend for herself, but for now, she owes Lenora, and Lenora knows it. They will keep certain things from their parents, and Emily will not be a threat. They will protect each other.
Emily shakes her head, no longer crying, and pictures Tammy’s back, her jacket flailing in the wind as she slumped away. Maybe Tammy will never make fun of her again. Maybe she will finally be left alone.
Emily wonders if Jehovah made Lenora show up like that, just in time.
Watch How We Walk Page 2