“Your mom would very much enjoy that.”
Elizabeth beamed as a tear trickled down her cheek.
FRIDAY, AUGUST 8
Chapter 31
D
rew stood in his living room, curtains pulled back from the picture window. It was a beautiful day. And, according to the Weather Channel, it looked like Saturday would provide more of the same.
Good.
He looked at the clock. Well, if she was accurate, this is right about the middle of her work break. He held the burner phone that he’d bought specifically for this day—albeit, for ulterior motives—and tapped in the final four digits of Elizabeth’s phone number, pressed Send, and waited. Just when he thought his call would go to voice mail, it was answered.
“Hello?”
“Elizabeth?”
“Yes?”
“It’s Mark Johnson.”
“Mark! Hi! How are you?”
He laughed.
“I’m doing pretty well. Got to enjoy a nice walk this morning. I kind of like your state of Ohio. And how are you?”
“I’m good. I’m good.”
Drew could tell that she was living in a moment of hope-filled expectation.
“How does 11:00 tomorrow morning sound to you?”
There was a pause.
ELIZABETH HAD TO think for a moment. Saturdays were always her full day with Kyla. She was suddenly unsure how she could do a photo shoot and still be a responsible mother.
“How long do you think the shoot will take?”
There was a pause.
THAT’S A GOOD QUESTION.
Originally, Drew’s intent was such that an end time was hardly relevant. At least, as far as he was concerned. But now, he was painstakingly making sure that the outing was going to be all about her, developing in her a sense of self-confidence and stripping away that self-loathing he had identified the previous evening.
The shorter the time, the less the temptation, right? But he knew that quality took time.
“About three hours, I should think. It’ll give us some time to skip from location to location and allow you some time to change clothes between shoot segments.”
There was a pause.
OKAY. LET’S SEE.
The solution suddenly struck her. FreeTime! The childcare center was open half-days on Saturdays!
At least the one on Narrow Road is, I think. I’ll have to call.
“I think that 11:00 will work just fine. Where would you like for me to meet you?”
“I did some location scouting online, and I’ve got three locations picked out that I think will be great. We should probably kick things off at Tanner’s Creek Park. There are a few pavilions that I saw set back off the road on Porter Drive.”
“Yeah, I know where that is.”
“Good. I’ll try to get there a little early to take some test shots. I’ll see you at 11:00.”
She smiled. “See you then!”
DREW DISCONNECTED THE call. You can do this, you know. You can be a gentleman and a professional.
ELIZABETH PUT HER phone back in the locker and locked it. She walked back into the dining area. It was time to prep for the lunch rush.
She thought about what the next twenty-four hours might hold for her.
The rest of today is going to seem so long! And tomorrow is going to seem so short.
Chapter 32
T
ara just stood and watched.
She watched as friends and family mixed into what seemed like a single, breathing organism. The undulating movement of children, teens, and adults from living room to kitchen, living room to the upstairs, living room to the front door. It was like a circulatory system, moving life all around what she called her home.
Somehow, the last family game night of the summer turned into family-plus night. Jamie had invited Zach. Amy asked if she could invite her friend, Brianna. Of course, the only allowable answer was yes. Jenna had her friend, Kara, come over, and even Elizabeth had cleared the weekend ahead of time for one last Lawton game night.
Ten people, including little Kyla.
Tara smiled. So be it. She knew that all too soon, she would be losing one of her babies to the wide world outside her front door, for months to come.
Nope. Not going there. I’m going to be happy tonight.
Brent had added the leaf to the dining room table, making room for everyone to participate. The entertainment on tap for the evening was Balderdash, a game that allowed people to make up their own definitions for words and try to pass them off as real to everyone else. The real definition was handwritten on a piece of paper and mixed into the collection of false meanings. Then each “definition” was read aloud, one at a time, with everyone determining for himself whether what he’d heard was legitimate or not. The player who was able to trick the largest number of other players into believing that his or her definitions were correct would be the winner.
It didn’t matter what game was played; laughter always abounded on game night. Tara would miss it.
“Okay,” called out Brent. “Let’s do this!”
Lots of smiles and chatter as the group gathered and found their places around the table. It wasn’t the first time that any of them had played the game, so they dived right in.
THERE WAS SOMETHING about nighttime that brought out the edgy side to Drew’s personality. The side that was willing to take risks in the dark that seemed absurd during the day.
His thirst was, again, growing.
Rarely did it take more than the slightest temptation to have him yearning again. This time, it was a simple picture of a little girl that he’d seen on a social media site. She was wearing a miniskirt, heels, and fishnet stockings. It stirred up an odd mixture of revulsion and desire.
He was nearly incensed … nearly … that a mother would dress up—or, in this case, less dress—her little girl, slap on an insane amount of makeup, and allow her to prance around on a stage. For what? Competitions? Competitions in which other mothers had done the same to their little “princesses?”
It couldn’t possibly have been the preteen girl’s desire to dress up like a flamboyant grown-up and flaunt herself before an audience of over-appreciative adults. It couldn’t be the little girl who was depraved. It had to be the parent.
The mom!
Seriously! Who would put their little girls on display like that?
But … there was also Drew’s other reaction to the photo. He looked at her legs, her exposed belly button….
He knew it at that moment.
He knew that he was going to lose any resolve that he might have had to just walk away from his laptop. He was going to see what other offerings there were online.
Though a light protest did occur in the recesses of his mind, urging him to get up and find something else to occupy his time, his moral compass wasn’t nearly as strong as his desires. Of course.
A nearly distinct voice in his mind egged him on. “I’m not going to get into trouble,” it said in first person. “They’re just images. I’m not doing anything to any of the girls. I’m not even spending any money to see them. It’s not like I’m paying those who took the pictures.”
A logical argument.
“If I get it out of my system, I won’t have to deal with the desires tomorrow when I interact with Elizabeth. It will be easier to behave.”
So logical.
And Drew gave in.
Again.
He couldn’t know it—not yet—but it wasn’t only his appetite that he was feeding, but also that of another—something dark sinking its talons into his mind—something with its own agenda.
ZACH WAS NOW the “dasher.” He rolled a one and named the category. “Weird Words. And the word is ‘xanthic,’” he said.
There was some chuckling around the table.
“Zan-thick?” asked Elizabeth and Jenna at the same time.
Zach grinned at Jenna. “It’s spelled x-a-n-t-h-i-c.”
And that’s when silence took over. Each person around the table thought up a definition for the word and wrote it down.
When Tara was finished writing down her definition, she leaned down to allow Amy to whisper into her ear a definition of her own.
Tara could barely restrain a laugh. “That’s a good one,” she whispered.
Amy beamed with pride.
When she had written out her response, she added it to the bowl in which all the little pieces of paper were collected.
With all the “definitions” collected, including the correct one that Zach had written out and placed in the bowl, he began to pull them out one at a time, reading them aloud.
As each entry was made known, everyone scanned the faces of everyone else, looking for clues—the crack of a smile, an averted eye—that might lead someone to believe that he or she had made up what could be another fake answer.
Zach pulled out the second-to-last piece of paper and said, “Xanthic. A goose with a lisp.” He made a valiant attempt to maintain his composure, but when everyone else laughed, he couldn’t hold it in any longer. The whole table roared! It took a good minute for everyone to settle down, at which point, Zack lifted out and read the final one. “Xanthic. Yellow in color.”
No laughter, but quite a few raised eyebrows.
“Okay. It’s time to pick.”
Each player chose and spoke out the definition that he or she believed to be correct, and then the results were tabulated.
“Jamie scored the highest with five votes!”
Kara teased, “You’re kidding.”
“His definition was, ‘To be gummy in substance.’”
There was a groan by those who had voted for that one. Jamie smiled, then pointed at Kara with a smirk.
“And Amy got a point too! Hers was ‘A goose with a lisp.’”
Laughter all around again and a high-five from Tara to her youngest.
Game play continued, and about an hour into the game, Elizabeth asked a question that was tossed from somewhere in left field.
“Do you think I could make it as a model?”
ELIZABETH CLOSED HER eyes immediately. She couldn’t believe it. She’d done it again. What was it about her and impulsiveness?
Really?!
The first person to respond was Zach. “Jamie sure thinks you could!”
Kara giggled. Jenna’s mouth dropped open, a smile playing at the corners.
“What?! I didn’t say that!” Jamie turned and stared daggers into his friend. Then he caught himself. Embarrassment, shock, and fear appeared to tear through Jamie’s mind in an instant, as he quickly turned to look at Elizabeth. “I mean … I.…”
Elizabeth saw his face turn red. Her own embarrassment was being cradled by the uncomfortable state Jamie found himself in and attempted to climb out of.
“…Okay, so … you are good looking.…”
Elizabeth glanced around the table. Each person—except for possibly Amy—was finding the moment, if not funny, certainly worthy of interrupting the game.
It was her mom that bailed Jamie out.
“That’s an interesting question. Are you thinking about finding out?”
Now Elizabeth was in a pickle. “Remember, though … hush-hush. Let’s not make this a known thing. Okay?” She couldn’t betray Mark’s confidence.
“It’s just a passing thought.”
“What got you thinking about it?” her mom asked.
All the attention was still on her. Why do I do this to myself?! She wanted to run to her room. But she stilled her nerves and said, “It’s nothing. Someone at work said he thought I could.”
This time her dad commented. “The short answer is yes. You are pretty enough to be a model. But from what I understand, that’s a tough business. Very tough. Very demanding.”
Elizabeth found her way out. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. Like I said, just a passing thought. Sorry I blurted that out.”
Zach found another perfect moment. “Jamie’s not,” he said with a laugh.
Jamie elbowed his friend. “What is wrong with you?”
“Just sayin’.” Another laugh.
“Mom, can we play some more?” asked Amy.
“Yes, we can, sweetie,” responded her dad. “And I’m sure that both Elizabeth and Jamie appreciate you asking that question.”
Amy smiled. “You’re welcome!”
Most everyone laughed again.
Elizabeth looked at Jamie, who averted his eyes. She tried not to smile.
Thank you, Jamie. It actually means a lot.
Maybe tomorrow evening she’d have a chance to tell him that, person to person.
Thank you.
SATURDAY, AUGUST 9
Chapter 33
D
rew awoke, acquainted again with feelings of guilt from the previous night’s online activities. It wasn’t how he had wanted to start his first day off from work, but, as happened too often anymore, it was how his first waking minutes presented themselves.
He lay beneath his bedsheet, fingers interlaced behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. Unlike his cover, depression weighed heavily on him.
While his daily urges always had him looking forward to the weekend, Drew really didn’t value them.
During the work week, he was worth something. Valuable, in fact. He had a purpose.
On the weekends, though, he spent most of his time satisfying his desires. There was very little—if anything—in the way of value.
And with the dawning of a new weekend, the all-too-familiar thoughts and feelings began to swirl once more in his mind.
Why is it that I feel so much guilt? Morality is just a majority-created code of self-restraints to keep others from being harmed. It’s getting what I want without hurting another in the pursuit. It’s enjoying something while another enjoys it too.
His reasoned thought trailed off.
Then why do I always self-condemn?
Drew sighed. He knew why.
His pleasures were a result of one human—himself—drawing pleasure from another who didn’t have the ability to effectively resist.
But I’m only looking at images. I’m not the one who performed the acts. And many of the older kids don’t even seem bothered by them very much. Many of them look like they actually enjoy them!
But what if he had been the one who’d committed the acts? What if he’d been the one who had crossed the line? Wouldn’t that have been too far? Wouldn’t that have been immoral? Wrong?
But who or what determines what’s wrong? Evolution sure doesn’t. Evolution doesn’t have a will or a purpose. It just is what it is … animals making decisions for what’s perceived to be best for them. Survival of the fittest.
Drew wondered if that’s what he really believed. Was rape just an evolution-instilled instinct through which one creature gets to have what it wants from another, weaker creature? And if the weaker creature didn’t survive, wasn’t it good that it was ultimately eliminated from the gene pool?
After all, strength begets strength, and Darwin made it clear that we’re all just part of that same struggle. Some make it, some don’t. Nothing good or evil about it. It just is what it is.
Then, why the guilt? Why do I suffer depression after watching a man or a woman sexually enjoy a child? Why does it seem so wrong?
Always, it came back to one single factor: God.
Well, not God, per se, but the idea of God.
Drew had given this a lot of thought in recent years. Rationally, he knew that God didn’t exist, but that didn’t mean he was free from the societal influences of the many who believed that he did.
The world was not the secular Utopia that humanists continually dreamed about. No, that would require the absolute abolishment of the very idea of God. Rationalism—atheism—wasn’t even close to bei
ng the mainstream belief system in the U.S., or anywhere else for that matter. If it had been, he’d be free of the ridiculous feeling that he’d done something wrong—something impure—the night before.
But mankind, for whatever the reasons, still seemed to want some sort of god to exist. Apparently, being biological products of random chance just didn’t sit well with most. And that meant that atheists had to deal with spiritual bigotry from those who held to the idea of God.
No wonder so many atheists were angry. Now he was angry too!
Christians—Muslims and Orthodox Jews too—complained so much about biological evolution—about science. The fact that their physical heritage could be traced back to single-celled organisms apparently terrified them. It gave them nothing to hold on to. No sense of purpose.
On the flip side, though, Drew did envy, at least a tiny bit, those who were able to live lives in which they believed there was some sort of “master plan” and something good to look forward to after death. Because who wouldn’t be comforted by that kind of belief?
But we can’t have it both ways, can we? No, not really.
In Drew’s mind, either science was true or the Bible was true. Either or. And years and years of facts supporting both cosmic and biological evolution just made it impossible to believe in some Creator God somewhere in outer space pulling the strings of people’s lives.
It was frustrating knowing the truth about his existence, yet also being influenced enough by other people’s beliefs to be lying in bed pondering the “purpose of life!”
There is no purpose! Mankind just has to deal with that fact! And I’ve got to stop letting idealistic myths mess with my emotions.
Drew flung the sheet off and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He sighed again, now studying the contents of his bedroom. It was clean, neat, and newly furnished.
That Dark Place Page 18