The night before I had heard Mem say she would not be able to go because there were several bushels of green beans to can. Now all I had to do was convince Datt to stay at home too. I could not take another day of riding in the car with him. He always disagreed with Virgil. No matter how wrong Datt was about any subject, he was always right.
I honestly did not think talking Datt into staying behind would be possible because he enjoyed the rides back and forth. Getting to ride in a car did not happen too often, so this was like a mini vacation to him. I had been longing to talk with Virgil about the idea of my leaving the Amish, but was not sure how to approach him. I needed help and I had a feeling Virgil could give me some ideas. The question was: how was he going to respond to me? I was worried he would not approve and would tell my parents about it. Then I could just forget about ever leaving. Nevertheless, it was a risk I had to take.
I ran downstairs as soon as I heard Mem in the kitchen preparing breakfast. Now was the perfect time to ask if I could go by myself with Virgil to Kansas City.
“It would mean a lot if he stayed home to help get caught up with work in the basket shop,” she said when I asked.
After breakfast, while Datt still sat at the table smoking his pipe, Mem helped me to convince him to stay home. He reluctantly agreed, but not without making a snide comment to me about trying to be bigger than I really was. I did not tell him I planned to not make another appointment. I did not see the point in letting a clinic use me for an experiment. If he went with me, I would not have the opportunity to cancel.
That morning, as I sat in the passenger seat on the way to the clinic, I was nervous. But Virgil had a way of telling stories that helped me calm down, although he was clueless about what I had on my mind.
For me, the glass was not only half empty, I personally needed to brave the extreme conditions to find the water, dig a well, fetch a bucket of it, and try to fill up the glass myself. Therefore, I began to fill the glass after completing another round of minerals. I boldly told the nurse I was not coming back for any more treatments. It felt so good to make the decision on my own. I hoped Datt would thank me later for not spending all of his money on something so useless.
Virgil took me to eat a hamburger, and afterwards, in an attempt to continue filling my glass with wine—I mean, water—I spilled my guts to him.
“Virgil, I want to leave the Amish,” I said urgently.
He looked at me startled. His mouth was full so he could not say anything for a minute.
“Do you know what you are getting yourself into?” he finally asked.
I shrugged and did not say anything. The tone of his voice worried me.
After some silence he asked, “Why do you want to leave?”
“There are many reasons why I want to leave,” I said calmly. “I am emotionally drained from going to the balloon doctor, and Datt still thinks it was a good idea. I think going to church is pointless. I do not like the dating rituals. I cannot express my opinion about things that are just plain stupid. I am expected to get baptized soon, and I do not want to get married and have a dozen kids. I want to get a better education, and I want to have some freedom.”
“Whoa girl, that seems like a lot of reasons,” Virgil said with a laugh.
I let out a huge sigh of relief. At least he was laughing; maybe confessing to him was not so bad after all.
“I am sorry that you had to suffer through the balloon treatments,” Virgil said with a hint of remorse. “I tried to convince your parents not to take you there after I learned what it was all about, but they didn’t listen.”
It was all I could do to hold back the tears, but I managed because I did not want an outsider see me cry. It was nice to know someone else was on my side even if the Amish would not listen to him. He was proud of me for standing up for myself and canceling appointments at both clinics.
On the way home, Virgil asked more questions and I answered as best I could. The one thing that hit me hardest was when he suggested I stay home until I was twenty-one.
“I would leave right now if I could, but I decided to wait until I am eighteen,” I said evenly. “There is no way I could handle three-and-a-half more years.”
“Where are you going when you leave?” he wanted to know. “You can’t just live out on the street.”
I bit my lip and said, “I don’t know yet, it is so difficult to make any plans. Especially since I am a girl, I have very little freedom and I am scared I will get caught.”
“Why don’t you just tell your parents you want to leave?” he asked.
“They would lock me up,” I answered tersely. “Besides, they’ll never get over it because it’s a sin to live like the outsiders do.”
“Well, I would love to help you, but it will ruin my relationship with the Amish. I can’t afford to let that happen.”
“I don’t want you to help me other than just give me some ideas of how in the world I can get out.”
“I will have to think about it, Emma. I need to get all of this wrapped around my head. I promised your parents a while back I would tell them if one of their kids said something to me about leaving.”
“Oh, Virgil, no! You cannot say a thing. I will be Amish forever if you tell them.” I panicked and began to shut down.
“I made a promise to them,” he said with a serious expression.
My heart was beating a million times a minute. I had to convince him not tell them, but I struggled for words.
“I think I could convince your parents to let you go,” Virgil continued. “I would think they would want their daughter to be happy, so why would they deprive you of that?”
“I am speechless; I don’t know what to tell you,” I said. Then I added, “If you could understand my language I could explain to you much better why you shouldn’t tell them.”
He smiled and said, “Just sit tight for a while, I will first just give them little hints about your situation and see how they react.”
“If you use my name they will suspect something is going on.”
“I will only use you as an example.”
“They are smart enough to figure it out, especially since they know I am unhappy.”
“Well, it might not be as bad as you think. Just let me handle it,” Virgil urged.
I did not say anything more. I was still not sure it would not ruin my opportunity to leave if I ever got that far. My parents did not care about my happiness; they cared about their image as Amish parents. Giving me permission to leave and do what I wanted would get them into serious trouble with the church. I was frustrated because of my language barrier; it kept me from saying what I really wanted to say.
As Virgil drove north on interstate 35, I sat quietly in the passenger seat and daydreamed of what life would be like if I left. I wondered if I would ever be in the driver’s seat of my own vehicle. I could not comprehend seeing myself drive, not only because I would probably wreck, but because vehicles were considered very worldly, and it would be a huge sin to have one. I would have to overcome that fear.
I got home feeling a gigantic weight lifted off my shoulders, yet another weight began to form: wondering whether or not Virgil was going to tell my parents about my confession. I had to let it go and hope if they did find out there would still be sanity—and mercy—left in their hearts. I was determined to continue planning my escape until all of my options were exhausted. If only there was an outsider I could live with until I could get on my feet, but who would take on such a responsibility? I ruined my chances with Roger, although I had a feeling it was ruined for a reason. He was not the one who could help me even though he told me multiple times to let him know when I was ready. Surely the Good Man had a plan for me some other way. I thought it would be easy to find a job, but I did not think anyone would hire me because of my Amish background. Then again, I knew almost nothing about the outside world.
§
Things started to get back to normal after I stopped going to the ballo
on doctor, and I gradually gained my strength back by taking herbal medicine and keeping positive thoughts. I made up my mind I would never complain of a headache again. While I got stronger each day, my head still hurt, and there was no way to ignore it. It was not easy to block the memories of having my head filled with balloons.
Some nights I got up and kept myself awake because the dreams had gotten that bad. I thought it was better to be tired the next day than to fall asleep and have any more nightmares. There were days when I worked in the basket shop, and out of nowhere tears would start flowing down my cheeks. I tried my best not to let Mem or my sisters see me. I would get up and disappear into the outhouse until I got myself under control. There was a small hole in the wall of the outhouse, smaller than my little finger, and I would look through that hole and say to myself, “Someday I will squeeze through this hole and be on the other side of the wall looking in, never to return.”
Virgil and I did not have very many chances to talk about my plans after our conversation. Every time he came to the farm to visit with my father, I was sure that any minute serious chaos would break out because Virgil had told them about me, but nothing happened. Weeks and months went by and I worked steadily in the basket shop to keep my mind off things. I had given up depending on Virgil to give me guidance. I was one month away from turning eighteen when my hopes were ignited again. I was out in the barn getting ready to milk cows when Virgil pulled up in his old blue truck and parked close to the area where we stored the feed for the animals.
“Hey, Emma, can you please come help me unload this feed?” he hollered.
I was the only adult out in the barn, but I still found it strange he would ask me to help. So I walked over to his truck and proceeded to grab a bag, but he stopped me.
“You don’t have to help me,” he said. “I just wanted to give you this phone number, in case you still want to leave home.”
He quickly handed me a small piece of paper and I stuck it in my pocket without looking at it.
“Now,” Virgil said in a low voice, “I don’t know who those people are that agreed to help you, but they used to be Amish, and a relatively new friend gave me the number. I am sorry, but that’s all I can help you with because I can’t ruin my relationship with the Amish.”
“Thank you,” I managed to say.
While grabbing for a bag of feed Virgil continued, “I decided not to tell your parents because your Datt didn’t keep his promise about something and we got into an argument, but don’t worry yourself over it; it’s between him and myself.”
I remember this day as if it was just yesterday. When Virgil gave me that number I felt very relieved, but it put a lot more weight on my shoulders in a different aspect. I had no inkling when I would be able to sneak away, but before I could stress over it too much my chance came when I was least expecting it. It was the beginning of my path where I fought to make one.
Chapter 6:
Mission in Action
We must build dikes of courage to hold
back the flood of fear.
~Martin Luther King, Jr.~
I woke up from a bad dream. I looked at the clock—it had only been an hour since I had gone to bed. How can it be that, within an hour of falling asleep, I was already dreaming of being home for a visit and trying to run away again? In the dream, four weeks had passed since I had gone home to visit, and I was still trying to leave. After dreams like this, I am always relieved when I wake up to find myself in my own bed in my own apartment far from home. To make sure it was only a dream, I got up and snapped on the light switch and looked around. Thank God—I am no longer Amish. I walked into the living room and turned on the television. I have dreamt many times I am trying to get away from the Amish again, and it is always so much more miserable than what happened in real life. I often wonder why I never dream of going back home and being happy instead of returning and wanting to find my way out again. Instead of making me question my decision, I see each nightmare as a sign I have done the right thing by leaving.
§
It was a cold afternoon the day I walked away from the only life I ever knew. That morning, when Mem and Datt said they were going to town about eighteen miles away, my heart skipped a beat. I knew instantly this was my chance to make my escape. My parents could not be at home when my break finally came.
I could not wait to tell Sarah my plans. She was out in the barn milking our two Guernsey cows before breakfast. I decided to wait to tell her until after Mem and Datt were already gone, just to make sure she would not accidentally say something.
Sarah had always stuck with me while I planned my escape. Out of all my brothers and sisters, she was the only one I could pour my heart out to, and she rooted for me. She wanted to leave the Amish too, but we decided I should go by myself first, then come back for her.
Around ten o’clock, I pulled Sarah into the basket shop and cautiously whispered, “Today is the day I am leaving.” There was nobody in the shop, but it felt better to whisper.
Sarah looked at me for a few seconds, scared, but she put on her best smile and said, “Go for it, and get ready for me to come too. How are you going to let me know when I can come?”
“I don’t know yet, I have to wait and see where I will end up. We also have to wait and see what Mem and Datt’s reactions are after they find out I am gone. I don’t know if I can write you a letter because Datt is going to want to read everything that comes through the mail.”
Sarah said, “Well, we will figure it out somehow. If nothing else I will sneak some letters in the mail for you and let you know if I have a chance to get out.”
I started to get nervous because I realized this would be my last conversation with Sarah, my best friend and the only person who understood me, for who knew how long. I knew the next time I saw her nothing would be the same. I would be an English girl and an outcast. I wanted to give Sarah a hug and tell her I loved her, but affection was never expressed in my family; it would have made for a very awkward moment to do it then.
I left Sarah standing in silence and walked into Datt’s shop to make a phone call. I had a cell phone given to me by another rebellious teenager in my community. I had been hiding it in my room upstairs. I had never used a cell phone before except to figure out how it worked. I felt more comfortable using the phone in the shop because I could watch out the windows and have a clear view from every direction. I had to make sure no one was going to walk in on me. Even though my parents were not home, I was scared to death. Getting caught with a phone would be a total disaster.
I dialed Roger’s number hoping he would answer without being too surprised.
“Hi Roger, this is Emma,” I said when he answered. I was so nervous my heart leaped in my throat and I almost forgot to keep breathing.
“What can I do for you, Emma?” he asked.
I quickly explained to him I wanted to leave the Amish and asked if he could pick me up. I had not talked to Roger since I had gotten in trouble sitting in his vehicle, but I was hopeful he would still want to help.
I could not believe my ears when he said, “No, I don’t think I can do it. I am a little busy right now.”
I wanted to scream Why?! But I was just too shocked that now, when I was finally ready to go, he did not want to pick me up. I did not know how to react. For the past three years he had always been supportive, until we lost communication over the past year. I had written a letter to him, but I was not sure he had gotten it.
“Thank you for your time,” I politely said. I was hanging up when I heard him ask, “Are you sure you are actually going to do this?”
“I am sure. I know that today is the best chance I will ever have. Don’t worry, I can find someone else to come get me.”
“Who?” he asked.
“I don’t know yet,” I lied. I had an idea, but now I was irritated, and for that reason I was not about to tell him. Besides, my next option was a complete stranger, and I did not want to explain this to Roger
.
He said, “Well, call me after you make your escape.”
“Ok, I will. I better get off the phone now.”
After I hung up, I started to panic. I had a feeling Roger was not busy like he said he was. I began to worry that everyone was going to back out when I asked for help to get away. The thought made me nervous. I did not receive this cell phone for nothing; it was supposed to help me run away. I paced the floor for a few minutes, kicking some of Datt’s pieces of scrap wood. Finally, I got enough courage to call the other person, but I did not have a good feeling about it.
I dialed the number Virgil gave me several weeks earlier. If I could just push the talk button, I would have it made. With shaking and sweaty hands, I pushed the button.
Ring… Ring… “Hello?”
Pause. “Ehm… my n-name is Emma Gingerich.”
“Oh yes, we were expecting a call from you,” the woman on the other end of the phone said. “We just didn’t think it would be this soon.”
I realized I did not have a time figured out for our meeting, but I got myself together and asked, “Would you be able to pick me up today?”
“What time?” the lady asked.
“How about two o’clock?”
“Okay, that sounds good. I’ll see you soon then.”
Whew… that was easy, I thought as I hung up after telling her where to meet me. I did not know the person I had just called, I did not even know her name, or maybe she did tell me and I was just too nervous to remember, but she graciously agreed to pick me up. I had to walk four miles to the nearest town because I did not know how to give directions to the Amish community over the phone. Plus I wanted to be out of sight so nobody would see who was picking me up. I wanted to be very discreet so my parents could not find me and take me back home. I had heard of several incidences where the parents found their runaway kids and talked them into coming back home. I was determined not to let that happen to me until I was sure I could not make it on my own.
Runaway Amish Girl Page 9