by Rena Olsen
In one of my Bible studies with Jenny’s group before I’d left the group, we’d read through some Old Testament stories about demon possession. Was it possible that Bryce was being controlled by something other than himself? Was he trapped inside himself, watching in horror as this Bryce puppet irrevocably changed our relationship?
It was far-fetched, and I wished I could talk to Jenny about it, but she no longer approached me in church, or acknowledged me in any way. I regretted that I’d let our friendship go, but Bryce and Nancy didn’t seem to approve of her, and while the Reverend loved everyone in the congregation, he didn’t mix with her much, which I took as tacit agreement from him that she wasn’t the right sort of person to be around. Really, they only fully approved of others who attended the Gathering.
I needed to talk to someone. Maybe the Reverend had noticed something off about Bryce yesterday. They’d been together for much of the day, after all. Celebrating. Ecstatic about the results of the court case. He had office hours today. Maybe I’d just stop in and talk with him. After all, no matter what was going on with Bryce, I knew I needed help getting him back on track.
Before I could leave, my phone rang, an unfamiliar number lighting up the screen. “Hello?”
“Is this Julia Covington?” a voice asked. It was familiar, but I couldn’t place the speaker.
“Yes, who is this?”
“This is Dr. Leeland,” she said. “From the clinic.”
As if I could forget Dr. Leeland. “I told you everything’s fine, Doctor.” A strange mix of gratitude and annoyance washed through me. It was nice that she was checking in, and I was glad that she was so vigilant about protecting her clients. But I didn’t need protection. I’d take care of everything.
“Yes, I know,” she said on a sigh. “But I wanted to call and talk to you about your urine sample results.”
“Don’t nurses usually do this?” I hunted through the drawer in the back room until I found my biggest pair of sunglasses. Donning them, I checked the mirror. The bruising on my cheek could almost pass as shadows wearing these. Enough to stop nosy people from asking questions.
Dr. Leeland laughed. “Yes, nurses often call when there’s nothing unremarkable, but I wanted to talk with you myself. We just did some preliminary tests. You hadn’t mentioned any drug or alcohol use but I was curious, so we rushed it.”
“I don’t do drugs, Dr. Leeland,” I said, offended. “I served wine for dinner last night but barely drank any. It wasn’t notable.” I grabbed my purse and snatched my keys off the hook by the back door, eager to end the conversation.
“Then I wonder, Julia,” Dr. Leeland said, “how you ended up with ketamine in your system.”
I stopped, ignoring the clatter as my keys fell to the floor. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s only a trace, so I would guess you ingested it a day or two ago, maybe Sunday, or had a very small dose.”
“I—I can’t deal with this right now,” I said. “Thank you for letting me know.”
“Julia, please, if there’s something you’re not telling me . . .”
“Dr. Leeland, I appreciate you filling me in on my results, but it seems to me you’re overstepping. If you continue I will have to talk to my husband about the clinic we go to.”
Silence from the other end, then, “I understand, Mrs. Covington. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
“Goodbye, Doctor.” I hung up, bent to pick my keys up from the floor, and calmly walked to my car.
* * *
—
On the way to the church, I contemplated calling my mom. We hadn’t spoken in several weeks, and I could feel myself starting to break. Instead of dialing her number, I turned the car in the direction of my parents’ house. I could stop by, say hello, find out how things were in their lives, ask my mom for advice in dealing with the new version of Bryce. A few minutes later, my phone rang.
“Hello?” I said after pushing the button on the steering wheel to answer. I didn’t have a chance to check the number.
“Hello, my love.” Bryce’s voice filled the car. He sounded normal again, his tone rich and inviting, nothing like it had been earlier in the day. “I just realized I didn’t kiss you goodbye when I dropped you off this morning. I owe you extra when I get home.”
Despite my confusion at his switch, his words sent pleasure down my spine. My husband was nothing if not charming when he wanted to be, which I used to think was always. “I’ll look forward to it,” I said, my tone careful.
“What are you up to? I thought you might be napping.”
“I thought about it,” I said, “but I was too keyed up. I thought I’d head over to the church and check on some of the girls I tutor.” I did want to peek in on Sydney after I talked with the Reverend.
“Are you heading straight for the church?” Though Bryce’s voice didn’t change, there was a hint of warning.
“I decided to take a little drive,” I said. “I thought I might stop by my parents’ place. It’s been so long since I saw them.” I wanted to be honest with him, especially considering what I was already keeping from him.
“That’s a little rude to stop in without calling,” Bryce said.
“How do you know I didn’t call first?” I was probably being a little more contrary than I needed to be. I took a deep breath. “They’re my parents, they won’t mind.”
“Julia, I think you should just head to the church. I know Nancy wanted to speak to you about an incident that happened yesterday. I wish you’d told me about it.”
The incident that Nancy had told me not to burden him with on his exciting day. I was surprised she’d told him. “When did you talk to Nancy?”
“I called her after I dropped you off. I thought we should try to sit down with the Reverend and Nancy to talk about what happened.”
I smiled to myself, relieved that he was going to acknowledge that something had gone wrong. “I think that’s a great idea, Bryce.”
“Good.” The warmth in his voice was back full force, surrounding me like an embrace.
“I’ll head to the church as soon as I say hi to my parents.”
Bryce paused, then sighed. “I’d like for you to save your visit for another day, Julia,” he said. “A lot has happened in our family the past couple days, and I’d rather we talk through it before bringing outsiders in.”
“You talked to Nancy.”
“She’s family.”
“My parents are family.”
“You know what I mean.” He sounded weary, as if I were a petulant child.
“I miss my parents, Bryce. We haven’t even made it over for dinner since the wedding. I used to see them at least a couple times a month.”
“That was before you met me, Julia. You don’t need your parents as much now. You have a new family.”
I frowned. I was minutes away from my parents’ house. I could almost feel my mom’s tight hug. “They’ll always be my family, Bryce. So will Kate, if she ever decides to talk to me again.”
“Julia, I think this is all stuff we need to discuss. You and I. Turn the car around and go to the church. Do not disobey me.”
My jaw hurt from how tightly I clenched it. But he was right. We’d talked about this in our couples counseling and with our mentor couple. I’d also discussed with Susie what it meant to be a wife. Bryce had made a request, and I was to follow his direction. Full stop. “Fine,” I said, working to keep my voice steady. “Can I at least call my parents and set up a dinner?”
“We’ll talk about it later.”
“Okay.”
“Go talk with Nancy,” Bryce said. “I think you’ll feel better after you do.”
“Okay.”
“I love you, Julia,” he said. “I only want what’s best for you. Remember that.”
“I kn
ow,” I said. “I love you, too.”
Disconnecting the call, I pulled into a driveway. I was three blocks from my parents’ house, but I turned around and headed back toward the church. Back toward my home and the new family that I needed to work more diligently to fit in with. They’d accepted me, and I needed to accept them, the good and the bad.
* * *
—
Nancy was in the front office when I arrived. She stood immediately and held out her hands.
“Julia, let’s go talk at home, okay?”
“I wanted to check on Sydney,” I said, pointing toward the school.
“Oh, I looked in on her earlier,” Nancy said. “She’s still confined but she’s calm and doing well.”
I wanted to argue, but I was so tired of arguing. Physically and mentally exhausted after the past twenty-four hours. And I wished I’d stayed home to nap, given how little sleep I’d gotten the night before. So instead of telling Nancy why it was important for me to see Sydney with my own eyes, talk to her, make sure she was okay, I nodded and followed her to the door leading to her house.
Once we were seated in the sun-filled living room, Nancy called for tea, and we talked about unimportant things until it arrived. I got the sense that Nancy didn’t want anyone to walk in and overhear any part of our conversation, despite the fact that those who she allowed to volunteer in her house were extremely discreet and unlikely to ever disclose anything they’d hear. My suspicions were confirmed when Nancy told her volunteer that she could have the remainder of the afternoon off.
When the volunteer had left, Nancy reached out and touched the cut on my cheek, acknowledging it for the first time. I winced, and she clucked her tongue. “What caused this?” she asked, leaning back and picking up her teacup.
I floundered, unsure if Bryce had told her the real story or the cover story.
She sipped her tea. “Bryce told me he got angry. We don’t keep secrets around here.” She paused. “Of course, outside of his house, you’ll stick with the cupboard story. Much more believable.”
My head was spinning, and not only because my pain meds were wearing off. I was relieved that I didn’t have to lie to Nancy, and especially that I wouldn’t be lying to the Reverend. I wasn’t sure I was even capable of that. He saw through everything, and I was sure it was due to his connection with God.
“Um,” I said, still struggling to say the words out loud. “Bryce hit me with a pair of my shoes. The heel cut my skin, and the doctor said if it had been only an inch closer—”
Nancy held up a hand. “I know that part,” she said. “And we’ll discuss the good doctor later, but my question was about what you’d done to make your husband so angry.”
I frowned. “I’d left my shoes by the door instead of putting them away. He called as I was walking in and I rushed to answer the phone—” Nancy’s expression cut me off this time.
“It seems like you’re making excuses, Julia.”
My mouth fell open. “I’m just explaining.”
“And you were doing a fine job until you tried to explain away your behavior by blaming Bryce’s phone call.”
“But—”
“Was his phone call meant maliciously?”
“Not at all,” I said. “He was calling to let me know when he’d be home so we could celebrate.”
“That was very kind of him to let you know how much time you had.”
“It was, but—”
“And you let yourself become distracted, is that fair to say?”
“I mean, I had to cook the meal and get everything ready, so I had a million things running through my mind.”
Nancy pursed her lips. “I’ve been doing some reading today, Julia, and you might be interested in what I’ve found.” She pulled out her Bible. “Proverbs is rich with these verses. ‘A wife of noble character who can find? She is worth far more than rubies.’ Proverbs 31:10.”
“That’s lovely,” I said, unsure of what she was trying to tell me. We’d gone through these verses before, the ones on marriage.
“This one is a little more harsh, but I feel God is telling me to remind you,” she said, flipping back a couple of pages. “‘A wife of noble character is her husband’s crown, but a disgraceful wife is decay to his bones.’ Proverbs 12:4.” She looked up at me. “Are you a crown or are you a decay, Julia?”
Her look rendered me speechless for several seconds. Censure, judgment, disappointment. As if I were the one who had failed and struck myself with a shoe. But even as one part of me fought against that judgment, another part leaned into it. It wasn’t so much to ask, really, to put my shoes away, to make sure the home I made for my husband was clean and free from distractions or danger. But still, his reaction seemed out of proportion.
“Aren’t there verses about a husband loving his wife and treating her as his own body?” I asked, wishing for my own Bible at that moment, or for the ability to have memorized everything of import. I was still new to all of it, as much as faith had become the center of my life.
“Be careful about using verses you’re unfamiliar with, and out of context, Julia,” Nancy said. “And any verses about how a husband should behave are Bryce’s responsibility to review and understand. Not yours. Right now we’re focusing on what you can do differently in the future.”
It was the same thing Susie had said about communication with Bryce. I was responsible for my part in things, and couldn’t change him. I would waste a lot of energy by focusing on how he could do things differently, and I would see no improvements, because I was only in charge of my own words and actions. I understood what Nancy was saying.
“I guess,” I said, and she nodded encouragingly. “I guess I need to slow down a bit, double-check that I’m doing everything I can to keep the house looking the way Bryce likes it.”
She smiled. “Excellent thought, Julia.” The smile faded. “He also said you were a little contentious toward him at the doctor’s office.”
Guilt grew low and heavy in my stomach as I remembered how I didn’t stand up to Dr. Leeland as she’d offered to be my primary physician. “I was crabby,” I said. “I didn’t sleep well, but I know that’s no excuse. I should have stopped her right away when she tried to get involved in our private affairs.”
Nancy’s smile was back, and I was glad that I had pleased her. “Doctors treat injuries. They don’t need the backstory. I trust you’ll see Bryce’s physician from now on.” She sipped her tea.
“Of course,” I said. A small part of me argued that Dr. Leeland had just been concerned, and that it had been nice to have someone who was concerned about what had happened, but that part had shrunk even more during my conversation with Nancy. The larger part agreed that it wasn’t her business. That we could take care of it ourselves. That talking to Dr. Leeland ever again would be a mistake.
“And I think it would be best if you worshipped with us from the privacy of your home this weekend,” Nancy continued. “I’m not sure your eye will be cleared up by then, and I think it would be too emotionally draining for you to answer the questions that would come your way. Much more relaxing to stay home.”
She was right. I shuddered to think of having to repeat our story over and over. Better to wait until I was healed. “I’ll miss the Gathering,” I said.
“I know,” she replied. “But the Reverend would have asked you to observe again anyway, since you’re on medications. We can’t fully be One with God when there are foreign elements in our system, altering our biological makeup.”
It made sense, but still made me sad. The Gathering and experiencing Oneness had become highlights of my week. What kept me going even when I was feeling lonely or displaced. It was pure joy, and my fingers shook as I considered what it would be like to go a week without. Now the anguish on the faces of those who didn’t achieve Oneness made a lot more sense.
Na
ncy and I finished our tea, and it wasn’t until I was on my way out that I realized I hadn’t even thought to mention Dr. Leeland’s phone call, or the ketamine she’d found in my system. And I had no intention of mentioning it, either. Not yet. Not until I could do some digging of my own.
* * *
—
When I got home, I marched straight up to my parlor, took the card from my stationery basket, and crumpled it before throwing it into my small metal trash can. I crossed my arms and tapped my toe, staring at the trash as if it would burst into flames at any minute. Then, slowly, I uncrossed my arms and walked back over to the trash, leaning down and plucking the crumpled card from amidst the other papers inside. I opened it, smoothed as many wrinkles as possible, and placed it back in the basket.
When I went to have my stitches removed by Dr. Herbert the following week, I avoided eye contact with all the nurses, and none of them tried to speak to me. Dr. Leeland was nowhere to be found.
He starts seeing the Reverend regularly, usually at the library. The Reverend is a recruiter, looking for bright young minds to join his church. He’s never been much for religion, doesn’t believe in a God who allows him to live in hell, but the way the Reverend talks about it, it sounds almost plausible.
The Reverend wants to help him succeed. “You can stay here, beating up bullies, or you can aim higher. I can help.” The bullies haven’t bothered the boy since he broke the leader’s face. The other boy needed eighteen stiches and had a broken nose, but no one told who’d done it. It would have ruined the leader’s reputation, and no one would have believed the scrawny kid had managed that amount of damage.
The boy talks of his plans to get a scholarship, and the Reverend points to all the other expenses of moving away, of living elsewhere with no other support. He offers to mentor the boy, even after he leaves town, which will be soon. He is here on business, though he doesn’t say what that business is, and the boy cannot fathom what business would bring such a wealthy and important man to this armpit of a place. He gives the boy a phone, tells him to keep it from his mother and her boyfriend. By now it’s clear he knows the exact circumstances the boy lives in, and the boy is strangely not ashamed.