Purity

by Jackson Pearce

  Dad and Jeffery are talking about the weather, which seems so ridiculously appropriate that I almost laugh. When they hear me on the stairs, they both turn to look at me. I look at Dad first—he’s smiling, looks carefree, like he’s not the tiniest bit worried about the boy at the door being around his daughter. I feel guilty about my plans for a flash of a moment, a moment filled with images of both Dad’s and Jonas’s faces.

  I have to keep the Promises. I have to do this.

  Even as I think it, though, I know this isn’t just about the Promises anymore. I want to do this because I’m curious. I want to do this because I dare God to make me feel guilty for it. I have my own reasons for doubting and believing and having sex, and I want to do this.

  I reach the door. Jeffery is smiling in a way that’s so genuine and friendly, I swear he’s three seconds from being cast in a Disney Channel movie.

  “Have a nice time!” Dad says brightly, and I hold back a cringe.

  “Thanks, Dad. See you later tonight,” I answer. Jeffery and I step out the door and walk toward his car—it’s an old Jeep, dark green and covered in a layer of dust.

  “So,” Jeffery says as we reach the end of my driveway. “Did Ruby tell you about my shameless crush on you?”

  I laugh a little nervously. “She didn’t put it that way, exactly, but that’s nice to hear.”

  Jeffery runs ahead to the passenger side to open the door for me. The car’s interior is cleaner than the outside and reminds me a little bit of Lucinda—maybe it’s the stale french fries smell or the hard, aged feel of all the surfaces.

  Jeffery drives slow, stopping completely at all the stop signs and never running a yellow light. It’s almost eight by the time we arrive at Harry’s for dinner.

  “So,” Jeffery says as our food arrives, “who is the guy you’re always sitting with, if he’s not your boyfriend?”

  Damn, and I was doing a halfway decent job of not thinking about Jonas. Kinda. Sorta.

  Okay, so I haven’t been able to get him out of my head.

  “Just a friend,” I answer quickly. “Sort of. We’re fighting at the moment, actually.”

  Jeffery raises his eyebrows. “Anything serious?”

  “Not really. He just kept some secrets from me. Hurt my feelings, that’s all.”

  “Ah. Maybe he had a reason?”

  “A bad one,” I answer, and Jeffery laughs.

  “I hope you guys make up, though. For the Biscuit’s sake. You two are, like, half of our business,” he says, then eats three french fries at once.

  There’s nothing wrong with Jeffery; in fact, I can see myself developing a crush on him given enough time. By the time dinner and the movie that follows are over, it’s getting late but we still haven’t entirely run out of things to talk about. It’s trivial stuff, little things—favorite color, which countries you’ve been to, any siblings—but it’s nice in that regard. Nothing complicated, nothing that requires too much emotion or thought. When we pull into his driveway, he stares at me for a moment.

  “My mom and stepdad are in Maui,” he explains. “I was thinking that you could come in for a while, if you’re interested.” I nod and climb out of the Jeep before he can run around to open the passenger-side door.

  He gives me the tour of the house, introduces me to his Labrador. But we speak in hushed voices, bedroom voices, and it isn’t long before he suggests we watch TV on the couch. I draw closer and closer to him as the show goes on until, finally, he inhales and turns toward me. He kisses my cheek softly, tenderly even. I turn and find his lips on mine.

  He’s a good kisser—maybe the best I’ve ever kissed. I lean back on the couch, pulling him down over me. Clothing falls to the floor in piles, the TV irregularly lighting up our bodies. I grab a condom from my purse and, without asking, he rips it open.

  He puts the condom on and leans over me, and then everything tightens for a moment, a strange, dizzying feeling that makes me inhale.

  I stare at the ceiling and bite my lip as Jeffery begins to move back and forth—it isn’t painful, isn’t pleasurable, isn’t anything, to be honest. It’s like shaking hands or waving or something else sterile, almost businesslike. Jeffery’s weight is heavy on me, and I wrap my arms around his shoulders, not because I love him, but because it makes it easier to breathe.

  I can’t believe I’m doing this.

  And then I think of the one person I probably shouldn’t be thinking about while having sex: Mom.

  I think about the Promises, I think about her hands, I think about the headstone with the love phrase. I think about the french fries, and how they were cold when she finally got them but she tried to eat them anyway. I think about her in heaven with God, her in heaven without God. About how I realize now that I’ll never be able to pinpoint God, to grab onto him and blame him. All I can do is grab onto love—the certainty that wherever Mom is, she still loves me. That Dad still loves me. That I will forever love both of them.

  Jeffery is breathing heavy, murmuring something in my ear. There’s still no pain, just pressure near my stomach and a gentle, whirling sensation. It makes me feel alive, makes me feel present the same way running or swimming or inhaling a summer breeze has a way of making me feel that way. He kisses me, and for a moment, I wonder if this is how Jonas would’ve kissed me, if I’d ever given him the chance. I immediately know that the answer is no—Jonas is the closest one to me, the one I grab onto when the ground crumbles. He’d kiss me like that, not like someone I just met.

  He’d kiss me like someone who loves me. And I’d kiss him back the same way. It’s so clear, so obvious, that I can’t believe I didn’t realize it before: I’ve been in love with Jonas for years.

  Promise Two: Love as much as possible.

  Jeffery shudders, grips my shoulders tightly, and it’s over. He breathes heavily and pulls himself off me, then gives me a kind smile, but my mind is too cluttered to return it.

  I forgot about Promise Two. But it was the most important, because no matter what else happens, the love is still there. Love isn’t a question of faith, even if God is. I thought it was such an easy Promise, such an obvious one, but this whole time, I never realized what it really meant.

  “You okay?” Jeffery asks breathlessly, sliding off the couch beside me.

  “I’m fine,” I say. Immediately after saying it, I realize it’s true.

  “You’re sure?” he asks.

  “Yeah.” I get up and hunt for my clothes in the darkness. Silence filters over the room, not awkward but heavy and still. I hurriedly pull on my shirt.

  “Um… can I tell you something?” Jeffery says, his voice a little quiet. I turn to him, surprised by his tone. “My father died. Six months ago.”

  I sit down beside him, unsure how to respond—how is it that I, of all people, don’t know what to say to him? No wonder everyone babbles when I tell them about Mom. Appropriate responses are hard to come by.

  Jeffery continues, “Ruby told me that this was about the sex and said it had something to do with your mom dying.”

  “She what?” I ask.

  Jeffery shrugs and sits up, looking sheepish. “After Dad died, I drove all the way to Arizona and back. Didn’t sightsee, didn’t do touristy stuff, didn’t stay in Arizona more than about eight hours. I get it,” he says. “Grief kind of takes weird forms sometimes. I just wanted to tell you because I don’t think you’re weird for… you know.”

  I smile. “Thank you.”

  “Anytime,” Jeffery says. “Though I wasn’t making up that crush on you, so I’m a little worried you’re going to think I’m a man whore now, sleeping with you on the first date, even if I know it’s what you wanted.”

  I laugh. “No, not at all. You were a real gentleman, honestly.”

  “So… you might be interested in a second date with this gentleman?” he asks.

  I look down. Jeffery’s face falls. “It’s nothing you did,” I say. “It’s just that… I think I’m in love with someone el
se.”

  “Wow, you’re a real heartbreaker,” Jeffery says, but he smiles a little.

  “Sorry I… kinda used you for sex,” I tell Jeffery glumly.

  He shrugs. “I’m not too upset. Hey, it’s not a bad way to get used.”

  * * * *

  I’m in a little bit of a daze by the time I make it home—not because I’m sad, not because I’m confused, but because it’s simply… over. All the worrying, all the stressing, the lists, the hype… it’s done.

  And the act itself wasn’t that life-changing—well, the sex itself wasn’t. Everything else was.

  I wave to Jeffery and slip into the house. Luckily, Dad is fast asleep in front of the television. He doesn’t stir when I walk in, and as per usual he is surrounded by paperwork. I sneak over and pick up his watery glass from the coffee table and turn the television off. As I reach for the remote, I see the paper he was last studying. The title splayed across the top reads:

  FATHER QUESTIONNAIRE

  I haven’t finished mine—didn’t even plan on finishing it, to be honest. But Dad was going over his? Did he finish it? I wonder… I glance between Dad and the paper, then slowly, quietly pull it away from him. I leave the glass in the kitchen and head up to my bedroom. My desk lamp is on, casting the room in pale violet light the color of its shade. I fall into my bed with my clothes on and look at the paper in my hands.

  I hesitate. I shouldn’t read it without his knowing.

  But I unfold his questionnaire anyway, then flatten it across my pillow.

  1. Your Name: Doug Crewe

  2. Daughter’s Name(s): Shelby Crewe

  3. Spouse’s Name: Jennifer Louise Crewe

  Her full name, written in such clear and precise script that it looks a little bit like a child practicing his own signature. There’s a thick dot of ink at the end of the final “e” on our last name, like he paused to admire her name for a moment after writing it.

  4. How much quality time do you spend with your daughter exclusively on any given day?

  Not very much

  True enough, until this ball madness started.

  5. Do you want to be closer to your daughter?

  Yes

  I roll my eyes at the question. Who would put “no” for that?

  6. What are some things you have in common with your daughter?

  I’m not sure—I wish I knew.

  7. What is your favorite memory of your daughter?

  I inhale before reading Dad’s answer, remembering my own response to the question about him. I wonder if he had as hard a time coming up with an answer.

  Watching Jenny hold Shelby for the first time.

  It wasn’t just me who loved her. I read on—there’s another line, written in pencil like it was tacked on afterward.

  Cake tasting day

  I smile.

  8. Are you willing to help your daughter live a pure life?

  ?

  A question mark? What was unclear about that question? I mean, I know he isn’t likely to flex his computer-programming muscles to keep me from making out with some guy, but surely he’s willing to help me in some regard, right?

  9. What is the purpose of the Princess Ball, in your opinion?

  There are heavy pen marks over one sentence, his crossed-out original answer:

  To learn how to help my daughter live a pure life.

  But under that he’s written:

  I want to get to know Shelby better.

  Promise One: Love and listen to my father. This whole time I’ve been obeying his every word, following all the rules, saying all the right things. But I never did what he really wanted all along.

  Because I was never really listening.

  The day of

  My phone rings at 9:03 the day of the Princess Ball.

  “Shelby? I’m coming over, okay?” It’s Ruby.

  “Huh? Uh, sure. It’s early….”

  “I have to be at the Biscuit by ten thirty, so it had to be early. Sorry. You can stay in bed—the spare is still under that green flowerpot, right?”

  Unfortunately, the fifteen minutes it takes Ruby feels only like a few seconds. Before I know it, Ruby is bursting into my room. She gives me the once-over, then shrugs and sits down on the edge of my bed. I scoot over to give her more room as she twirls her fingers around the loose threads of my comforter.

  “Hi,” she says after I don’t speak.

  I nod at her and rub my eyes.

  “So… is everything okay?” Ruby asks.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I just… well, I talked to Jeffery… and he said you guys did have sex, but then you didn’t call me, so I wondered if you regretted it and got pissed at me for suggesting it or…”

  “Oh,” I say. “No. I don’t regret having sex. I was just thinking about it last night, that’s all. And… I kinda think I had it all wrong. Everything.”

  “Explain,” Ruby says, spinning around so she’s lying down next to me. She touches her pointer fingers to her chin in a mock psychiatrist way and I smile.

  “I forgot,” I say. “I forgot about Promise Two because I was so busy finding ways to keep One and Three. And I’m starting to think that I got Promise One wrong—it was love and listen to my father, but I’ve been treating him like a stranger, just blindly following orders. That’s not really loving or listening.”

  Ruby doesn’t say anything, so I go on.

  “So that leaves Promise Three… but…” I drift off as my mind swirls. “How am I living without restraint if I’m letting the Promises force me into having sex with someone I don’t really care about? The Promises themselves restrain me.”

  “But doesn’t that mean that Promise Three negates the other Promises?” Ruby says.

  “Maybe,” I say. “I thought obeying them would make me closer to Mom, would bring her back in a weird way. Maybe make me okay with her death. But the truth is, I don’t think Mom wanted me to treat her Promises like strict rules. I think she just wanted me to be happy. And Dad to be happy. And both of us to remember her and love her and find love in everyone else.”

  “You sound heartbeats away from writing a truly brilliant pop song,” Ruby says with a grin. “If only ‘All You Need Is Love’ wasn’t taken.”

  “Damn the Beatles.”

  “So are you glad you did it, then?” Ruby finally asks.

  “I think I had to. I had to do it to start to understand everything else. And I’m not sure I totally do yet…. It’s like all these tiny pieces of my life are beginning to make sense.”

  Ruby nods. “When you sort it all out, let me know. I’d love for it all to make sense by the time I have sex.”

  I widen my eyes and look at her. “By the time?”

  Ruby shrugs. “I’m still a virgin.”

  “What?” For a moment, I’m almost angry, but it fades to surprise quickly. “But you knew all that stuff! You gave me the panties!”

  Ruby blushes—something I’ve rarely seen her do. “I’m not saying I’m an innocent schoolgirl, Shel, but knowledge isn’t the same thing as experience. I guess I do sort of act the part, though. I should’ve told you. I’m sorry I suck so bad. But think about it, isn’t it going to be hilariously weird, me coming to you for sex tips in the future?”

  We laugh together, then lie in silence for a second.

  “So, to totally jump subjects in the least disrespectful way possible,” Ruby says, “want to see my photos? I finished them.”

  “Which ones?” I ask.

  “From the park. A few weeks ago?”

  “Oh yeah!” From before the LOVIN plan, from before I had sex and planned a ball. It feels like ages ago. She leans over me and pulls her purse up. Inside is a piece of cardboard from a Flying Biscuit to-go box. It’s folded in half and held shut by a scrap of ribbon, protecting a thick stack of photos. Ruby unties the ribbon and the photos spill out onto my bedspread like fallen leaves.

  I’m only a silhouette, the sun brilliant behind me and scattere
d tree limbs. My hair flies out behind me as I fall through the air—you can’t see the fountain—into the arms of a waiting boy. Jonas, reaching toward me.

  “So, I heard you and Jonas got in a fight,” Ruby says.

  I sigh. “Yeah. He slept with Anna Clemens.”

  “And that’s a problem?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” She asks the question like she knows the answer, a sly grin on her face.

  I bite my lip, unsure if I want to say it aloud. It’ll change everything. But I take a deep breath and speak anyway. “It’s a problem because I… have feelings for him. I just didn’t realize it.”

  “What about the fact that Jonas ‘has feelings’ for you?” she says, using quote-hands and rolling her eyes.

  Hearing Ruby say that makes me feel very girly and fluttery and happy.

  “See how good I am at this puppet master thing? I totally called this years ago,” Ruby teases. “Call him, Shelby. Call him and make up and be best friends and then go kiss and let it be awkward and great.”

  I flush. “You’re assuming he’s going to not be mad that I slept with Jeffery. Not to mention, last time we spoke, we were fighting.”

  “He slept with Anna. You both had to get some action elsewhere to realize how much you wanted each other. And it was just a fight. It happens. So anyway, back to my plan—call him, be best friends, awkward kissing. You know how much I love awkward kissing, Shelby. Have you seen my collection of quirky romantic comedies?”

  I sigh and shake my head. “I will, I will, I just… this ball, and then last night with Jeffery and… I need to finish things with the Princess Ball before I can tell him. It’s tonight and I don’t even have all my stuff together—damn, I’m supposed to find something to read….” I remember, frowning.