Screaming to Get Out & Other Wailings of the Damned

by J. F. Gonzalez

  “What’s he like?”

  Mary Beth shrugged. “Like I said, he’s very nice. Very soft spoken, respectful but strong. He’s very—”

  “I didn’t mean that.” Diane asked, a mischievous look in her eye. “I mean, what’s he like in bed?”

  Mary Beth blushed again. “Um...we haven’t...um, well, we haven’t...”

  Diane and Susan’s jaws dropped. “You mean you haven’t slept with him yet?” Susan asked.

  “Well...no....”

  Joanne regarded her from across the table. “Guy like that, he practically screams ‘fuck my brains out’. I thought you Mennonites were closet nymphos.”

  Susan and Diane laughed. Mary Beth blushed again, but she felt a tinge of anger float to the surface.

  As if sensing they’d gone too far, Joanne touched her wrist. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

  The others murmured apologies too but the damage was already done. Not the damage of denigrating her religious beliefs. No. The damage she felt was one of expectation; their expectation that she would sleep with Victor just because he was the most desirable man at the office.

  That faux pas seemed to break through the superficial veneer of the topic, and they talked about more cerebral aspects of relationships. Joanne appeared reflective. “Victor’s always struck me as a guy hiding something painful. I don’t know what; memories of a past relationship that ended badly, perhaps. He seems to have more emotional depth than most men I know.”

  “Well, he is a good person,” Mary Beth said. “And he does seem...oh, I don’t know. Broken by the world? That seems like a good description. He sometimes comes across as wounded.”

  “Aren’t we all?” Diane asked.

  She related part of the conversation to Victor later that week, on a date. He’d taken her to Fiorentino’s, an Italian restaurant in Lititz. Victor hadn’t been offended by what Joanne and the others had said. In fact, he downplayed it. “Women like that,” he said, “will just never understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  “That I am more than just a beefcake.” He chuckled. “I’m kidding, of course.”

  “Beefcake?” Mary Beth had heard the term before, but she laughed too.

  Victor looked reflective. He took a sip of his wine. “I like you, Mary Beth. I really do. You’re not like other women I meet. You like me for who I am. You like me for what I have up here.” He tapped a finger to his forehead.

  “I like you for what’s in your heart,” Mary Beth said, not able to stop what she was saying. The instant she said it, she thought, Oh no! Did I tip my hand too soon? She was on the verge of blushing in embarrassment when he responded at just the perfect time.

  “I appreciate that,” he said. “Sometimes I don’t know what’s in my heart. My life has led me on such a fascinating journey that has been tinged with triumph and sadness. At times I feel broken, poor, and weak. I sometimes feel that I’m done: I want to just end the journey and settle down.” His eyes met hers across the table. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I do.” Mary Beth’s heart pounded with excitement.

  Victor reached across the table and took her hands. “I think the world of you, Mary Beth. I love everything about you. I know that’s a bit premature to say. After all, I only know you from the office and the last few weeks of seeing each other on a social level, but...in that time, I feel that I’ve really gotten to know you so well...it seems like we’ve known each other forever. Do you know what I mean?”

  Mary Beth nodded. “Yes, I do.” She never thought this could happen so soon; that their relationship would grow more heated so quickly. She felt that connection, too, but part of her felt torn by her family upbringing. Should she continue to see Victor, she would most certainly be courting severe disapproval from her parents very soon.

  “I feel that I’ve always known you, that you were somewhere out there...just waiting for me. That’s why I never let up in asking you out.”

  A flush rose in Mary Beth’s face; in her heart, her stomach, her most private place. She looked down at the table, embarrassed to be the center of such honest intention from a man who was so genuine!

  “You’re the answer to all my prayers,” Victor said, his voice soft.

  Mary Beth looked up at him shyly. “Am I?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re the answer to all of mine, too.”

  Victor said nothing. The tension between them grew. Victor reached a hand across the table and touched the back of her hand, caressing it gently. Mary Beth took a deep breath and averted her gaze from him. As attracted to him as she was physically, mentally, and spiritually, she couldn’t break her vows to her Lord. She picked up a breadstick, tore it in half, and changed the subject.

  And like the gentleman he was, Victor went along with it. Other men would have tried to steer the conversation back to the sexual tension, would have tried to sneak in a kiss, which would have broken that barrier even if it was just a slight peck. She knew their ways; knew it from the books and magazine articles she read in Christian Woman magazine. She was interested in sex, and she desired it like any other woman, but she also knew that the Lord only provided sex between a man and a woman who were married. It was God’s gift to those who wed. To defile that act by indulging before they were married would be a great sin.

  Despite this, she could tell Victor wanted her. He might have been attracted to her heart and mind, but he also desired her physically, just like any other man. His gesture, while subtle, was evidence of this. And despite her own physical attraction to him, she had to maintain her vows and push back.

  After dinner they drove downtown where they parked the car and walked the streets. Downtown Lancaster was bustling with activity, and Mary Beth was always amazed and a little awestruck by the people and events that transpired. Sure, there were places she wouldn’t be caught dead entering—an adult video store here and there, a seedy looking bar or two—but there were loads of good places that outweighed that. Restaurants of every cuisine, craft stores, gift shops, bookstores, nightclubs that featured jazz music. They stopped at the doorway of one such club and listened as a jazz guitarist played for a packed house.

  As they walked back to the car after an enjoyable evening, the topic of conversation shifted to their overall goals for life. Mary Beth was upfront about hers. “To live a good life that will allow God to work through me to help others. What about you?”

  “Oh, I have a master plan for my life,” Victor said, smiling.

  “And what is that?”

  Victor smiled down at her. His physical appearance was so intoxicating, so tempting. “Let’s just say that you will never question your place in life again if we remain together. You need not worry about what your parents think.”

  Mary Beth felt a momentary touch of excitement and shame. She’d told him about her parent’s disapproval of her decision to not follow in the family ministry and business. When Mary Beth told Victor about her parents’ opinion of him, he’d been sympathetic. He’d listened with a sense of caring, asking questions at the right moment. “It’s common for parents to be disappointed when their children do not follow in their footsteps,” he’d said. “But I’m sure that once you blossom on your own, they’ll be proud. And as they say...God works in mysterious ways. In the grand scheme of things, your parents will come to realize that God will use you in His overall plan. They just don’t know it yet.”

  “I certainly hope so,” Mary Beth said now. They had stopped momentarily in front of a jewelry store, and it was there that the moment just seemed right. Mary Beth looked up at Victor, his eyes deep and penetrating, and before she knew what was happening they were kissing.

  The kiss was passionate, yes, but it was also brief and full of passion. When they parted, Victor smiled down at her. “Let’s get you home.”

  Once again, Mary Beth felt a brief tinge of nervousness as Victor drove her home but she needn’t have worried. When he dropped her off at her apartment he
gave her a kiss, this one a little more passionate. She felt herself holding back a little, not wanting to take things further. He kissed her neck, breathing in the scent of her perfume. He told her he’d see her the following week at work, and waited while she let herself into her apartment. Then, he drove away.

  And despite telling her parents that Victor was the perfect gentleman the following day, Sunday, after church, they still seemed cold to any mention of him. Mary Beth didn’t understand it.

  She called Victor that evening on the verge of tears. “Why don’t they approve of me and my life?” She almost sobbed into the phone. “I’ve done everything right! My brothers and sisters...they all did horrible things when they were growing up. Drinking and drugs, and stealing and running around...I never did any of that! My parents always bragged to their friends that I was the good child! But then the rest of my siblings change their ways, they join the family ministry and just because I choose not to get into that line of work, I’m ostracized! It just isn’t fair!”

  “Nothing in life is fair, Mary Beth,” Victor agreed. “But don’t worry about that. Should I come out to be with you?”

  And she said yes. For the first time since dating Victor, she invited him to her apartment to be with her. And he came, and he was good to her, so gentle, so loving, that she couldn’t believe she’d held him off for so long, couldn’t believe she’d thought that what they did could be sinful, no, it couldn’t be, not when it felt so good, felt so right, not when she yearned for him and he was hungry for her and they finally came together in the flesh, satisfying each other, making each other even more hungry for one another and she knew then that she was destined to be with Victor forever, she knew that now, knew they’d be married, that he’d answered all her prayers, that she’d be his and he hers, forever and ever and ever, amen.

  And then very late that night as they lay entangled together in the bedsheets, the summer night so vast and open outside, a cool breeze blowing in through the half-opened window, she looked down at him. He was awake, watching her. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m your first.”

  Mary Beth nodded.

  “Do you feel that what we did was wrong?”

  A shake of the head. Still, that little holdover from the way she was raised began to creep into her thoughts, bringing doubt.

  “You shouldn’t,” Victor said quickly. “I’ll be with you forever. We were made to be together. Do you believe that?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. She more than believed it now; she felt it in the very fiber of her being.

  “Good.”

  And in the days that followed, Victor visited her more frequently, always after work, always at the right time. He was still charming, still respectful of her beliefs and traditions. He never once asked her for sex, never came on to her strong. Rather, she sensed that what they did together was simple destiny, that it was something they both wanted.

  She revealed a little bit more about her family background to him one evening at her apartment when he came over for dinner. She had made chicken potpie, a dish Victor had come to love. They’d been seeing each other on a more serious level for over two months now and seemed to interact with each other like an old married couple that had been together for decades.

  “Your siblings became what people of your faith call worldly at an earlier age than you,” Victor said over dinner. “They did this as an act of rebellion. You never did. In fact, you’ve always embraced your heritage, your faith, whereas your siblings always seemed to be running away from it.”

  “You’re right,” Mary Beth said.

  “They’re still running away from it,” Victor continued. “On the surface, they seem like nice, upstanding, moral Christians. Intellectually, they see themselves as good people. And for the most part, they are. But they’re really putting on an act for the benefit of your parents. The lives they’re leading now are the kind of lives they never really wanted to lead.”

  “Yet they see me as a disappointment because I express a desire to do something with my life that conflicts with what they want from me,” Mary Beth said, everything clicking together naturally. “And I’m involved with you, which is even worse.”

  Victor gave her a pensive smile from across the table. “Why do you suppose that is?”

  “You’re not a member of the church.”

  “That’s probably a very good reason. But there’s something else. What is it?”

  “You’re not a believer.” There. She’d said it. The thing she’d worried about the most ever since dating him, ever since giving herself to him the way a virgin bride gives herself to her husband on her wedding night, had finally been voiced.

  “Yes and no,” Victor said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “From your parent’s perspective, yes, I’m a non-believer. I may as well be an atheist to them, which is as evil as they come in some quarters. But as you’ve seen, I do have my spiritual beliefs, and they’re sacred to me. Belief is something that is personal. It’s life changing and can only mean one thing to the one person who holds to that belief. Do you understand?”

  Mary Beth nodded, once again enthralled with him, caught in his spell.

  Victor smiled at her. His plate was almost finished. “I’m not perfect and I’m not a saint, Mary Beth. Your parents should know that if they would only look inside their hearts. I have the same flaws and strengths as everybody else. There are times when I feel weak and stupid, and yet there are other times when I feel powerful and wise and like I’m on top of the world, that I can accomplish anything. We all feel that, Mary Beth. It’s in each and every one of us.”

  Her parent’s words crashed into her, reverberating in her head. We’re so disappointed in you, Mary Beth. By choosing to not go into the ministry, you’re turning your back on God...turning your back on God...turning your back on God.

  Mary Beth buried her face in her hands, her emotions conflicting. She did not want to turn her back on her family, but she also wanted a life with Victor. “I’m so confused.” She felt on the verge of weeping. She realized that she could not have it both ways; it was either her parents or Victor.

  “There’s no need to be confused,” Victor said. And then he was out of his chair and taking her in his arms and she sought comfort in them and he made it all go away, just like that. As he took her on the kitchen floor, slipping her dress off and caressing her in his strong arms, she felt his hunger and desperation for her. She met his ardor head on, their bodies coming together seamlessly, their passion for each other climbing until release, and then later that night, after love, she lay back in her bed with Victor beside her, feeling alive, free, invigorated.

  Things changed again after that. Victor seemed to be even hungrier for her from that point on. He called her every night, asking if he could come over again, and she always said yes. She would hang up the phone, her feelings conflicted between yearning desperation and shame over what she was doing. You shouldn’t be doing this. It’s wrong. It’s sinful and it’s wrong and its not glorifying to the Lord in any way whatsoever. Furthermore, you’re turning your back on your family. You’ve never turned your back on them before, there’s no reason to do it now. Several times she almost called him on his cell phone and told him not to come; she’d had second thoughts, maybe they shouldn’t see each other. But then he’d show up minutes later, disheveled from a long run through the park to get to her apartment, and she’d let him in. He could barely restrain himself then; he was like a mad dog, like an animal possessed, but then again she was, too. But then her conflicting thoughts would be cast aside as they tangled themselves up in her bed, between the sheets, and he would whisper and grunt to her. “Give me more, give me more, give me more!”

  And she’d give him more, right to the end, working him over and over till he was left gasping in what sometimes she mistook for pain but was really pleasure.

  Some nights when they were finished he’d confess to her. “I ca
n’t help myself,” he said one night. He was leaning on one elbow, brushing her long brown hair back from her face. The minute he’d entered her apartment they’d come together like a pair of magnets, kissing madly, his hands pulling at her dress, taking it off, and oh how she loved it, and oh how she let him.

  She still went to church every Sunday with her family out of habit. And if they noticed anything different about her, they never came out and confronted her about it. Mary Beth suspected they saw some kind of change in her because she saw the way her mother’s face drew pensive whenever the topic of conversation turned to Mary Beth’s week and what she and Victor had been up to lately. She’d known that look well growing up. Disapproval.

  And for the first time in her life, Mary Beth didn’t care.

  For the first time in her life, she was genuinely happy.

  At peace...

  With herself....

  And more importantly....

  With God.

  She realized that to voice this to her parents would bring swift condemnation down on her. She thought about this one Sunday about six months after her relationship with Victor had gotten serious and physical. Her parents were withdrawing. Her siblings and their families, too. It was as if word had gotten out, spread by her parents, and the gossip was obviously not good. Mary Beth has turned her back on God, she’s seeing a man who is not a believer, an atheist, and even though she’s going to church and all, she’s no longer saved. Her soul’s in mortal danger. Please...pray for her...

  The thing about it was, the rest of the congregation seemed to treat her as they always had. She was never kicked out of the church, one of the first things that happened if a parishioner was found to have sinned and showed no remorse for their actions. She wasn’t even being shunned, which was something the Amish did. If her parents had tried to rally support for their cause that their daughter was backsliding and was in need of a wake-up call, it had fallen on deaf ears. She’d caught no uneasy vibe, no furtive glances from other parishioners, experienced no whispered words behind cupped hands from the church elders. If anything, she was treated more warmly, more lovingly, than ever before.