“Did you know that God forbids sex until after marriage?” Bridgetta asked.
“Really? Why?” I’d never heard such a thing.
At that point in my life, I knew very little about God. Mom and Dad didn’t attend church regularly, and when we did go, I had to sit with them in the adult worship service; there were no Sunday school classes for Deaf kids. I once won a picture of Jesus at church, and I hung it on the wall of my bedroom. He was kneeling by a rock, praying. The two-inch golden frame had a small light on the top, and when I turned it on, Jesus glowed beautifully. I often looked at the picture, especially at night. It had a calming effect on me. But I knew very little of who this man was. I knew we shouldn’t lie, cheat, or steal. And I learned a few Bible stories when a church invited some Deaf children to come to Vacation Bible School one summer – Adam and Eve, Noah’s Ark, and David and Goliath. Other than those stories, though, I knew almost nothing. So I was surprised to hear God had a say about sex.
Bridgetta proceeded with her testimony – Adam and Eve had sinned, and all of us are sinners. Jesus had died for our sins, and He wanted us to live forever with Him in heaven. She explained that God wanted us to obey Him, and that if we didn’t, we would be doomed to hell.
“Hell?”
I was scared. So I believed her. Why wouldn’t I? Her parents were smarter than mine, and they taught her those things. Right there, I confessed my sins and invited Jesus into my heart.
Prior to this conversation, I had never known sex was a precious gift that God intended only for marriage. This knowledge stayed with me and I was determined to follow His command. Our discussion also sparked my interest in learning more about God and His Word.
Chapter 9
Spring 1981
At home for the weekend once again, I entered Mom and Dad’s bedroom, carefully scanning. Which hiding places had I missed? It had been months, and I was still determined to find my diary. Whenever Mom would leave the house – to hang her clothes, work in the garden, or run errands – I would continue to search.
I didn’t believe that Mom had thrown away the diary. Mom was not always honest. However, after our argument, this subject was never brought up again. Mom was very stubborn; once her mind was made up there was no room for discussion.
My eyes scanned every inch of the room, when I laid eyes on a framed picture of my maternal grandparents. Unlike Dad’s mother, Grandma, who always kept her hair short and stylish, Mom’s mother, Grandmother, tied her hair in a bun. It was thin and grayish, and when left loose, fell down to her waist. Whenever we visited, I would watch her brush her long hair. Then she would braid it. I was fascinated by the way she removed loose hair from her hairbrush and used it to secure her braid at the bottom. A rubber band was not needed. She wore tattered calf-length dresses with thick panty hose, often with runs. Grandfather wore faded overalls, which didn’t always look clean. He chewed tobacco, spitting into an empty Yam can, which was left on the windowsill for everyone to see. They were much older than my dad’s parents; Grandmother was forty-two when my mom was born.
The picture frame!
Could it be? My diary was written on composition paper, and there were only five or six pages. I quickly walked over to the window to spy Mom. I didn’t have much time. She was almost done removing the clothes from the clothesline.
Hurriedly, I lifted the picture off the wall and slid the cardboard from behind the frame. And there I saw my handwriting. My diary. I quickly removed the papers, returned the cardboard to its place, and hung the picture where it belonged.
My plan was set. I walked into our bathroom and locked the door. Sitting down on the closed toilet lid, I read for the last time what I had written. I found the part where I had written about wandering off into the woods. Randy had pulled me down to the ground on top of him. We had only hugged and kissed. Mom had jumped to conclusions, thinking that Randy and I didn’t have our clothes on. She didn’t give me the opportunity to explain or to clarify.
I hated the thought of letting go of my diary, but I knew I had to destroy it. I turned on the water faucet, clicked on the exhaust fan, and lit the match, carefully burning each page, one by one, and watching the ashes go down the drain.
I never told Mom that I had found the diary. And if Mom knew, she never said anything.
Chapter 10
May 1989
I inspected the napkins that had arrived in the mail. Our names and the wedding date were correct. I was relieved. As soon as I saw the picture in one of the wedding-supply catalogs, I knew I had found the perfect design for our wedding.
“I’ve never seen such thing,” Mom said. “For a wedding? It’s unheard of.”
I ignored her comments. She had assumed I would pick a more traditional design. The square-shaped napkin had a simple picture of a boy and a girl walking in the grass, holding hands. The little boy was dressed in a short sleeve t-shirt and blue jeans, and the girl, who was the same height, was dressed in overalls. The girl’s right hand rested in her right rear pocket. Her straight, long hair fell down past her shoulder. Below the picture the napkin read: This day I will marry my friend.
I knew those attending the wedding would think the design was most fitting. For most of my life, I left my hair long and straight. And, I had practically lived in overalls during my high school years.
Yes, I’m going to marry and spend the rest of my life with my best friend. Besterest, as we often referred to each other – good, better, best, bester, besterest. Get it? There’s no such word in the dictionary. But for us, it was perfect.
Chapter 11
Spring 1982
I noticed subtle differences between my parents and my friends’ parents. At a young age, I didn’t think too much about it. After all, my life at home was what I knew; I couldn’t imagine it any other way. But as I grew older, and the more time I spent at my friends’ houses, I began to envy their parents’ hugs and kisses, or when they simply asked them interestedly about school. They would also ask me what I learned that week, what subject I liked best, and other things to get to know me better. My heart would race. I felt cornered, and I would be so glad when they would let me go. Yet, I pondered what it must be like to have parents who cared about you.
Unlike a typical teenager without a care in the world, I knew too much. I knew my Dad’s income. I knew how much money my parents had in savings, or perhaps I should say how little. Mom would say to me, “Don’t tell this to Connie or David, they are so young.” The secrets had made me feel grown-up and important, but what a burden they had been. Knowing their finances, I made every effort to forego any unnecessary expenses. I never asked for brand-name clothing or shoes. Once or twice a year, when we traveled to visit my mom’s parents, Mom and Dad would treat us at McDonald’s; it was the only place we ever ate out. Everyone would order whatever they pleased. But not me. I always ordered the cheapest meal – a 49-cent hamburger and a cup of water.
It seemed as if my parents always needed help, and I made it my responsibility to ensure they understood anything that was being communicated to them. Sometimes I had no clue how to do or say what was needed – I was just a kid myself – but somehow, I managed. For example, when I was in elementary school, a classmate of mine had invited me to go home with her for the weekend. Mom had to write a permission note for me to change my regular plans, so I had her copy my writing: “I have Debbie’s permission to spend the weekend…” Of course, she should have written: “Debbie has my permission…” Those times when I realized my mistakes were so embarrassing.
Though mature for my age, I was in other ways a typical teenager. I was a rather quiet and reserved girl, but once people knew me I was fun to be around. I was well liked by my peers and got along with everyone. My report cards would have made any parent proud. I was an obedient child, and I displayed a pleasant and positive attitude. My life at school was a happy one.
I had my firs
t boyfriend at fourteen. I don’t recall how or when David and I first became attracted to each other. I don’t even remember our first kiss. The first picture I have of us together was in May 1981, just before my fourteenth birthday. The following year, my photo album was filled with pictures of him – and us.
David’s upbringing was very different from mine. He came from a hearing family and was the younger of two. His family attended church every Sunday. He lived within a few miles of MSD and was a day student. In other words, unlike most of us, he did not sleep in the dorm. I would go over to his house sometimes on Sunday evenings when I arrived back at school after the weekend at home.
Our times together were fun. We teased each other a lot and laughed often. We both liked sports – he played football and basketball – and I was on the basketball and track teams. We would cheer for each other when we could. He even sneaked out of his class one afternoon so he could watch me run in the track meet. Later, when he got his driver’s license, we would sometimes sneak off campus without permission and just drive around together.
He was someone I could talk to easily. He was comfortable expressing his emotions – I even saw him cry. I suppose he learned that from his mother. He once told me how she would cry when he was giving her a hard time. A mother who showed sorrow and expressed pain – that was something new to me.
Chapter 12
March 1983
David and I called each other often, especially on Sundays when we were not able to see each other. One Sunday in March, I called him from my dorm lobby:
David: Hi, Dave here. GA [This is a TTY code for Go Ahead.]
Me: Hi, darling! This is your darling. Hold Ok, I just turned the light on cuz it is dark here. Ha. Well, how was your afternoon? GA
David: Well, I practiced. It was good, then I got home and watched some basketball. I asked mom if I could see you, but she said no. I was disappointed, then I started on science homework. I really wanted to see you, but sorry – it’s my fault. GA
Me: Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault. Are you done with your science homework? GA
David: No way. I did chapter 30. I have to do chapter 31, 32 qs, and I will finish it after I talk with my beautiful darling, who I miss very much already. Ha!
Me: Yeah, I miss you too, but it’s your fault that we can’t see each other now. Just kidding. Ok, when I arrived here I ate my supper, a sandwich, then I started to read a book until the girls arrived.
David: It was funny this morning because my pastor came to me and shook my hand and signed good job. I thanked him. My parents said he and his wife enjoyed the [MSD Spring] play very much. Also, this morning Ina and her friend were here. Paula told all the people that she wanted to thank me for praying all three nights. She thinks that we will spread God’s gospel to other people.
Well, you wrote me a note … I forgot to tell you that I almost cried when you said you wanted to know more about God. I have always wanted to talk with you about God, but I don’t know what to say. I’m sure God didn’t like what we did last Friday night. I know this isn’t as bad as sex, of course, and the Bible didn’t say “thou cannot touch bodies,” so I guess it was alright with God if I did that, but I know you did not feel comfortable. I’m sure God will get angry if we have sex before marriage, which of course we won’t do. Do you have any suggestions about what we can do to share our relationship with God? He’ll be happy to be part of us. Maybe when you come to my home or whatever we can read the Bible together and discuss it, or do you have a better suggestion?
Me: OK, first thing about touching. I felt comfortable at first, but if we do it pretty long like we did, I become uncomfortable. Anyway, I think it is good idea if I go to your home and we could discuss, but remember I know almost nothing about God. But I’m sure you understand, don’t you darling?
David: Yes, I understand, but what shall we discuss?
Me: Honestly, I dunno what.
David: I could find a verse then we could discuss, OK? I’ll find a better way as we go. I want to ask you a question.
Me: Fine, but don’t be embarrassed if I got the answer off the point.
David: No, it isn’t about God. It is between you and me.
Me: Fine. What is it, sweetie?
David: If I touch your body for a short time, when it is right time (nobody is watching) do you mind? Or do you prefer I do nothing until you let me? Those questions are stupid; never mind answering. Let’s talk about something else, like getting married. Ha ha! Just kidding.
Me: Very funny, but I won’t ignore the question. I really dunno, but I prefer you ask me if it’s alright to touch my body, then maybe I’ll say OK. For your information, it’ll be a long time before I let you do this, but I’m sure I’ll let you once before I turn sixteen. I dunno, OK? OK, I don’t care if you touch my ***, but I prefer not inside my clothing. OK, honey?
David: Thanks for answering my stupid question. What are you going to do after I finish talking with my dearie?
Me: I’ll talk with Tiffany, then I suppose I’ll read the book a little. What time are you planning to stop?
David: By nine, so I can do my homework. Are you finished talking with me? I think I talked long enough. Did you get bored?
Me: No way. For your information, I never become bored with you. Ha! But it’s true. Of course it’s alright to stop darling. Homework is more important than me. Ha. So I think you better do your homework now. Sleep well tonight and think about me before you doze off. Ha! Bye. See you tomorrow. I love you and always will.
David: First of all, you are more important than homework, and second, how do you like the idea of talking about God?
Me: I think it’s a great idea if you like it, but don’t teach me about God when you don’t want to. Of course, you’ll not teach me all night when I’m at your home. Ha!
David: OK, sleep tight and may God be with you all night. See you in the morning. I love you. I don’t have to tell you; you already know. Ha! Bye. GA or SK [TTY code for Stop Key]
Me: Wait, wait! You don’t have to tell me, but I like it when you tell me. Tell me the truth, do you want to discuss with me a little about God? If not, just tell me. I’ll understand. I can learn about Him later in my life. GA
David: It is better to learn about Him now. I’m crying. I’m worried about you. I want you to go to heaven with me. I can’t see what I’m saying, so I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you. Better stop now. Bye to SK
Me: Thanks for your concern. You are so sweet. Bye. SK
David: Are you still there? Is that all you can say? I’m crying. I want you to go to heaven with me. GA
Me: Don’t worry. I’ll go there with you. Do your homework now. See you tomorrow. I love you! SK
David: You don’t want to know about God. Bye. SK
Me: No, wait. You still there? GA
David: Yes. GA
Me: I want to know more. I cry often at home when my mom won’t take me to church. I tried my best, last summer, reading the Bible, but I still don’t understand. OK? I just remembered one verse saying those who love xxx whoever … I forgot the verse now, but it is John 3 something like this. GA
David: OK. I’ll talk more tomorrow. Bye. SK
Me: I do want to go to heaven. SK
David: I want you to accept Christ. Bye. SK
Me: I’m already a Christian. SK
Chapter 13
October 1983
Thump. Thump. We could feel the vibration of the big bass drum as we entered through the doors. Within minutes, our gym was filled with high school students, coaches, dormitory staff, teachers, and a few alumni. Thump. Thump. The cheerleaders did their pom-pom dance as we cheered. The bonfire would follow shortly, but first, we waited eagerly for the homecoming court to be announced.
Our superintendent opened the envelope and announced: “Freshman princess goes to Deanne Piper!”
We all cheered as Deanne climbed down the steps to the middle of the gym, where five chairs were set. She sat down in the chair furthest left, facing the spectators.
“Sophomore princess goes to Amy Monigan!” Another round of applause. She sat down next to Deanne.
“Junior princess goes to Debbie Anderson!”
Slaps on my back and words of congratulations surrounded me as I got up from my seat, maneuvered through the crowd in the stands, and walked across the gym floor to take my seat. Emotions flooded in – thrilled to be chosen, relieved that I was not overlooked, and self-conscious that all eyes were now on me. I had hoped I’d be chosen although I hated standing before a crowd.
After naming Lori Sherwood as a Senior Princess, the superintendent announced: “Queen goes to Debbie Stokes!” Debbie hugged each of us before she took her seat.
At the bonfire, David and I held hands. The night had been so pretty – stars filled the sky, and the night air was crisp. The bonfire burned high into the air as a large crowd of us stood hand-in-hand around the fire, moving slowly and occasionally stopping to sing familiar cheerleader chants.
When it was past ten o’clock, our dormitory counselor encouraged us to begin moving; it was time to return to our dorm. David and I walked across the campus, still holding hands.
As we neared my dorm, David turned to me and said: “I want to talk to you about something.”
“Sure. What is it?” I asked.
“I want for us to be just friends.”
“Friends? You mean, you want to break up with me?” We had dated for over two years and had so much fun together. We played miniature golf. I had gone to his house several times for supper. His parents liked me. We often went out for drives through town. (He had a car of his own, earning money from his paper route.) He even had a picture of me printed on a shirt that he wore all the time. Not only that, he often gave me small gifts, stuffed animals and Smurfs. I thought he would be mine forever. I even fantasized what our wedding would look like. And now, he was breaking up with me. I never dreamed this would happen.
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