by Anya Monroe
“She made a video-video?” Abel asked Lily, his voice strained.
“She did not make a porno,” she said rolling her eyes at Lacey, pelting him with pretzels.
“She didn’t,” agreed Jenna as if she was the expert on Goldie Glam Girl. “But she is gorgeous. And it wasn’t like she was trying to be hot, she just was. Like, she did herself up in these crazy costumes, which was why I found her videos in the first place.” She looked down at her leather vest, knee high boots and emerald green tunic as if that explained everything. It sort of did. “And I think guys liked her because she was every fantasy come to life. A nurse or a witch or Princess Peach.”
“What did she do in the videos, exactly?” Abel asked, not understanding.
“Okay, for example, she’d dress as a vampire and then go to a restaurant, order a milkshake, and then throw it on the ground. She’d film it herself. The thing is they were really disruptive. Like, the local businesses all basically banned her. It got a lot of press because she almost got arrested like a half dozen times. She’d post when that happened, too,” Lily explained. “Usually the employees wouldn’t engage … but then that guy did, and he got fired. Marigold was mortified she’d ruined some guy’s life, especially since she was streaming it live. Her friends would help her.”
“They were short, like two or three minutes, somehow she made the entire thing ridiculously hot,” Lacey said. “And she’s your sister?” He pointed to Lily.
“And he’s going out with her,” Lily finished.
“It’s not like that exactly.” Abel didn’t know what they were, but considering she was three hours away, going out didn’t seem to have anything to do with their relationship.
“Damn,” Lacey said. “Who’d have thought? The Amish guy got himself a regulation hottie.”
“Who are you?” Lily asked Lacey, scowling. “You were all hot for Jenna until my sister is mentioned. Ugh. It’s so typical.”
“Aww, he’s not that bad, Lily,” Jenna said, defending Lacey. “Truly, I’m just as surprised that Abel and her … you know what I mean."”
“I know exactly what you mean, but come on, let’s get back to work. Enough about her.” Lily uncapped her pen, signaling them to move on with the conversation. But no one else was interested in leaving it so fast. Abel cracked his knuckles, his mind reeling as he eyed the laptops sitting unopened on the table.
Seeing where everyone else’s eyes had gravitated, Lily sighed, “Fine, pull them up for Abel. He deserves to know whose actually hanging out at his parents’ house. I just can’t believe she didn’t tell you.”
Abel’s eyes focused on the laptop Lacey had on the table, and his jaw clenched as a video came on the screen.
“What is that costume?” he asked, pointing to the girl he had fallen for.
“That’s Princess Leia,” Jenna told him.
Her hair was in two tight buns on either side of her head, her entire midriff showing as she walked down a city sidewalk, her legs completely exposed. So much skin.
Abel couldn’t see Marigold, the girl he knew. This was someone else. She spoke seductively to a barista at a coffee shop he recognized, her fingers grazing the guy’s arms as she asked for a latte with Blue Milk, extra hot. There was laughing in the background, and she kept pushing her chest closer to the confused guy.
“You guys have to go,” the barista said. “Seriously, you can’t come in here like this. I’ll have to get the manager.”
“Get him then, you don’t want to be a bad boy, do you?” Marigold taunted. Then she pulled out a whip and slapped it on the counter, making the guy jump. Her skin was flecked in gold, she radiated, and even though her words and action were aggressive, she was exactly as Lacey described. Gorgeous.
The video fast-forwarded to Marigold yelling at the guy, and him yelling back at her. Customers left the shop as she created a scene, exclaiming over the fact she never got her drink. The barista got angry, and Marigold pretended not to know why all the while continuing the slice the air with her whip.
Eventually the barista screamed some expletives at her before punching a number in the phone. She was drug out of the shop by her friends who were howling with laughter. The film cut to her outside a police car, crying wildly about free speech.
Abel watched the quick credits, where Marigold’s laughter was exaggerated as she offered a big thanks to the viewers and subscribers. A close up of her chest in the barely there bikini top of Princess Leia ended the video.
He crossed his arms, the room went silent.
“Is there more like that?” he asked quietly, looking down.
“Um, like dozens. And people have remixed a lot of them.” Lily hesitated. “Do you want to see?”
Abel nodded the slightest nod possible, and Lacey loaded another. In this one Marigold wore a hula skirt, and when she started singing, Abel couldn’t take it anymore. He leaned over and pressed the computer shut.
“I can’t watch anymore,” he said. How had she hid so much?
“But maybe she changed. Maybe it was a phase,” Jenna said softly.
“Maybe she has,” Lily said. “And if you’re worried, her real name isn’t on anything. She was smart about that at least,” Lily said. “My parents had no idea this was going on for a while, and once they did, and after that guy got fired, Marigold stopped.”
“Regardless, she’s not who I thought she was,” Abel admitted, looking at his friends for support.
Chapter 11
Marigold
Apparently receiving priority-express mail was unusual for the Millers. Ruthie peppered her with questions as Marigold took the slim envelope from Mrs. Miller’s hands.
“Looks like Abel has something important to say,” Mrs. Miller said, leaving the yarn shed, now a shop nearly ready to open for business. Marigold had made labels indicating the type of wool and dye used in creating the rainbow colors of yarn, organized on the rows of shelves.
“Do you mind if I take a break to read it?” Marigold asked politely.
“Of course, you’ve done more than enough to earn a break,” she said, smiling warmly. “You’ve kept Ruthie out of my hair every afternoon on top of getting this place in tip-top shape.”
“It’s not hard when Ruthie’s such a good helper,” Marigold said before they walked away, leaving her alone. Knowing it was such a beautiful afternoon Marigold decided to go read the letter in the outer field.
She walked the gravel path leading her to the far field, but as she passed the barn she couldn’t help overhearing a conversation between Mr. Miller and one of the Amish men who worked for him.
It was more of the same rumblings she heard around the dinner table each night. Abel should be here. It’s easier with Abel around. I’m too old to carry this burden alone. Most of the time Marigold couldn’t help but agree. Mr. Miller would come in after a long day of work exhausted, his shoulders weary, and his face worn. In the morning he’d come to breakfast with dark circles under his eyes, constantly commenting on how it was too much to do alone.
A few times Eli stopped by, but it was clear that he had responsibilities elsewhere. His wife, Sarah, besides being pregnant, had no brothers and no one else to help with their place. It had been decided that Eli could take over that farm, everyone assuming Abel would take over the Miller family business.
Marigold walked away from the barn quickly, not wanting to glean information not meant for her ears. She already felt in over her head with her conflicting feelings about Abel. On one hand she really had connected with him in D.C, they had spent a week together that had meant something to her. They had an instant attraction that she didn’t want to dismiss.
But ever since coming here, their few conversations had left her empty and feeling like the girl she used to be. The one who was a joke, an idea. Not a girl who was substantial, filled with real feelings, real fears.
She sat under a willow tree with long, low hanging branches skimming the ground, creating a hidden cove for her to read thi
s letter privately. Marigold sat crossed legged, tucking her brown boots under her knees. With her finger sliding over the seal, she pulled out the letter.
She had never seen Abel’s handwriting before. No loopy curlicues that peppered her cursive, Abel’s letters were sharp and slanted. Precise, just as she’d expect from him.
Dear Marigold,
Letters are hard to write. Just like with the phone, it’s difficult to articulate perspective and emotion through a piece of paper.
Still, I want to try. Maybe paper will work better, especially in light of the last few phone calls we’ve had where my words hurt you, and where your words left me confused.
I saw videos today. Of you. Videos of a girl who I remember having wispy blond hair covered in crowns of flowers. Videos of a girl I remember with shoulders wrapped in a lacy shawl, whose ruffled hems brushed her feet. In the videos this girl transformed into a ghost. Not a literal one, though Lily tells me there was a ghost video as well, but this girl was no longer transparent because of her effortless beauty. She was transparent in her desperate attempt for attention.
* * *
Marigold gasped, her eyes stinging with tears. She knew she was alone, but she couldn’t help looking around to be sure she was by herself before letting out a sob, her chest heavy and filled with humiliation that he knew her failings. Of all the things she wanted to have disappear, the memory of last year was the thing she most wanted to erase, but it haunted her still. She wiped her eyes and cautiously read on, knowing her heart would be in shreds by the end of the page. She should have been more honest.
* * *
The girl in the video wore a hula skirt and coconut shells, swaying her hips to music she played on a ukulele. She sang lyrics more lewd than I imagined you able to think. Her face painted into someone I couldn’t recognize, except for the eyes. The eyes said it all, that this ghost-girl was you; taking form in someone I didn’t know.
It confused me, made me wonder who you are, where you’ve been. I don’t know how to move forward with you. I feel like I don’t know you. I won’t tell my family about this because as of now I have no reason to believe any mal-intent with you living with my parents, but I do wonder about why you chose to run away from your family. You said they didn’t care about you, but maybe you just didn’t like that they called you out on your behavior?
I’ll be visiting my family next weekend, and I’ll surely see you then, too. Maybe talking face to face will help smooth things out.
All the best,
Abel
* * *
Marigold held the letter with shaky fingers, disappointment filling her as she reread the sentence that stung the most, this ghost-girl was you, taking form in someone I couldn’t recognize, taking form in someone I didn’t know. He watched a video and assumed the worst. She folded the paper carefully, smaller than necessary. As if it would disappear with one more crease. It didn’t. In her hand she held evidence of what she no longer had.
And didn’t she already know just how much she didn’t have? How much she’d lost? She had been mortified at the near arrest, but even more ashamed that her actions had cost another person their reputation. She’d done the videos for attention, and she’d gotten it. But once it was hers, she realized everything had a cost.
She’d been so concerned with being someone important, someone special, that she lost her way.
Her saving grace was that after the fallout with herself, she happened upon her great-grandmother’s old steamer trunk of carefully wrapped clothing from a different era. With one relief-filled-breath she realized the elaborate costumes, the personas, the pretending, girl in those videos wasn’t really her.
It was an act to be something, set apart from the scholars in her family. The famous father who revolutionized the freaking steel industry. Her valedictorian brother. Her mother who was an award-winning author and esteemed professor. Her sister who led the charge for about forty-three committees. And then there was her.
Marigold, a girl who floundered at best, was nothing at worst.
After discovering the antiqued cache of clothes, she threw her flip camera in the trash and deleted the obnoxious videos from her YouTube account. Videos that unfortunately had already spread and were un-deletable from the Internet. She took all of the money she’d made on the stupid charades and gave it to the man she’d cost a job and humiliated on the internet. His children and wife didn’t deserve to pay the price because of her rebellion.
She pulled out a sewing basket and began making herself clothing that meant something to her, because she had to start over. She needed clothing that had nothing to do with being noticed and had everything to do with becoming herself.
As she sewed the pieces into a new wardrobe, she came to terms with the girl she was and the girl she wasn’t. But no one else seemed to process like her. Everyone around saw Marigold dressing in these old fashioned clothes, and decided these handmade creations were another ploy for attention, another game. Another chance to spin this into something about her, because for so long everything had been.
She’d intentionally paraded around company dinners in tutus and award banquets in Lycra and fishnets. She created hashtags revolving around the most inappropriate places to wear the most obscene get-up. She ruined things and ruined herself. She pretended to be happy, but she wasn’t. She tried too hard, and got nothing but a Twitter following in return.
Now Abel thought the same thing. It hurt to know he imagined her using his family’s hospitality. She felt guilty for being here without being honest with them. But what would she say?
In her gut, though, she knew saying something was better than nothing. She would come clean.
Abel
He found his focus. After writing Marigold, he did his best to push her from his mind and remember why he sacrificed his family for the summer. His goal had been to come to Jamestown and learn, so he threw himself into studying. All weekend he either met with his study group or burrowed in his bedroom reading the assigned texts and writing papers.
Wednesday night, after dinner, Abel asked Lily to quiz him with the notes he’d taken in Business Theory. Besides the class where he was doing the study group, there were three other courses he had to balance for the Business Intensive.
She didn’t seem to mind helping, in fact she appeared to love it and met him in his dorm room. “You’re so smart, Abel, I wish it came as easy for me. I’ve always had to fight to keep up.”
“I study too, like we’re doing right now.”
“Yeah, but you got the highest grade on the last take-home test. And I know you said you were overwhelmed at first, but nearly a month has passed and you are more than pulling your weight.”
“Ja, I mean my mom and dad are still upset with me, but I needed to come here. And I’m glad I didn’t wuss out and leave that first week.”
“That would have left me with Jenna and Lacey at make out central.”
Abel laughed knowingly. He’d had to walk to the library more times than he wanted to remember after catching them making out in the dorm room.
“You excited to see your family this weekend?” Lily asked, shuffling the flash cards they had made.
“I don’t think excited is the right word, exactly.” Abel took half the stack and thumbed through them. “You know, you could come with, see your sister.”
She made a face that Abel knew meant something.
“What?” he asked.
“I don’t think I’d be particularly welcome,” Lily said, avoiding his eyes.
“I’m sure you can work out whatever problems you have eventually, and you’ve been so good to me all month, helping me fit in, letting us spend hours at your house,” Abel said. When Lily didn’t respond he tried a different tactic. “I wrote her about the videos, and she’s probably really pissed at me. I guess I thought if you came it might break the ice.”
“I wouldn’t break the ice for you. I’d make it worse. What Marigold doesn’t get is that while s
he thinks I’m against her, really I’ve always just lived in her shadow. She doesn’t see how people look at her, fall in love with her. She’s effortless. I work my ass off for everything, yet in her mind I’m the bad guy.”
The words clicked as soon as Lily said them. Marigold was effortless. She entered a strict Amish household and everyone fell head over heels in love, overnight. And he’d done the exact same thing with her. She was magic in a way she didn’t even know.
“I fight too, Lily. School’s easy for me, sure — but the hardest thing for me is the fact that being an Amish farmer is exactly what everyone wants for me. And that’s the one thing I don’t want for myself.” He paused looking at Lily, this mirror of Marigold. But he saw now that Lily’s confidence was feigned, in truth she was as lost as him, fighting against the current. Marigold was the only one who seemed to know which way the stream ran. “Do you want to be in business school?”
Lily blew out the air from her cheeks, exhausted. “I want to make my parents proud. I found my identity in being the opposite of my sister, but I don’t know. I don’t know if this is really me either.”
“Maybe we’re putting too much pressure on ourselves to have it all figured out. Maybe it’s okay to be undecided.”
“Says the boy who’s supposed to take a vow and seal his fate in a few months.”
“My parents will be so broken if I don’t stay Amish. I’d be saying goodbye to everything I’ve ever known.”
“Maybe what you’ve known isn’t enough.”
Abel rubbed his neck, frustrated at how his parents’ beliefs shaped him. Frustrated at how the desires of his own heart had caused such a divide.
“Maybe I shouldn’t be here.”
“You really believe that?” Lily asked as their eyes fell to his open messenger bag. The take home test with a red A on the top right hand corner poked out.