After I brushed away my tears, I walked into the building and asked to talk to someone about getting my GED. The lady asked me for an ID so she could make an appointment for me. I frowned and told her I did not have any picture IDs. I noticed she was staring at me curiously and not knowing what else to do, I told her that I had just left the Amish and wondered if there was any way I could possibly talk to someone about how to get my GED. She told me to wait and then, a few minutes later she called me to a back room. I followed her timidly. When we reached the room, I was met by a friendly, middle-aged lady. She motioned for me to sit down and I did so nervously. I was afraid she, like everyone else, was going to tell me it would take a long time to get my GED and I did not want to accept that.
“So,” the woman looked at me as she sat down in her chair in front of a computer, “I hear you just left the Amish and are now in pursuit of your GED?”
I nodded.
“Good. Good,” she nodded. “So what level of education do you have so far?” she asked as she typed something into the computer.
“I guess second or third grade,” I said as my cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“Ouch,” the woman frowned. “And what subjects did you study?”
“Math,” I said as I thought hard. “I guess math, and some phonics and reading books to learn to read.”
“Nothing else?”
I shook my head. “There were some other books, but my mom just kept them in case the state asked to look at them.” I did not realize at that moment how strange this must have sounded to the lady. She stared at me for a couple seconds and then typed something else into her computer.
“Okay,” she said a couple minutes later. She turned fully toward me and took off her reading glasses. “I am going to be honest with you.” She looked very serious. “Normally, people who come in looking to get their GED have at least completed the eighth grade, and they have some grasp of how to study for a test. But—,” she paused, “—you’re telling me you only learned a little math and how to read?”
I nodded. “I also learned to write,” I interjected, as if it would help my case. “I learned by tracing letters and then eventually writing them.”
“All by yourself?” the woman asked.
I nodded. “My mother gave me a book, and I figured it out.”
“Well, that is impressive.” The woman stared at me, trying to hide her shock.
She handed me a poem and asked me to read it for her. I read it without a problem, and she seemed impressed and told me that my reading was at a very high level. She recommended that I take night classes to get my GED and told me that, realistically, it might take at least a year or two before I would be ready to take the exam. I was not happy to hear this and asked her if there was anything I could do at home that would speed things up. She told me there were a few books in the library on how to get a GED and I could try that but she said that, without classroom instruction, she was doubtful that I would be successful. I thanked her for her time and left. I was a little discouraged, but I was determined to get the books from the library and get my GED as soon as possible. I figured that, after all I had been through, getting a GED could not possibly be all that hard.
That afternoon, Aunty Laura agreed to take me to the local library. It was only a few blocks from where we lived. Aunty Laura told the librarian I would be using her library card for a while, and the librarian said that was fine. I checked out three books on how to get a GED, hoping they had everything that I needed in them.
When we got home, Uncle Bill was standing outside the garage, dusting off an old, pink bicycle he had found.
“I thought you would need your own wheels to get around in case you want to go somewhere by yourself.” He smiled at me as he patted the seat.
I jumped on the bike and although I was wobbly at first, I eventually gained my balance and happily drove around the driveway. It was going to be great fun to have my own transportation to go to the library or the dollar store or wherever I wanted. I thanked Uncle Bill and sped off on my bike headed for the Walgreen’s that was a few blocks down the street.
On the way home from the library, Aunty Laura told me that she had made an appointment to meet with someone at the congressman’s office to see about getting my social security number and a picture ID. She also said that, the next day, she and her daughter-in-law Denise, were going to take me out for a girls’ day. When I asked her what that was she said they were going to take me shopping for a few new clothes. She asked if I would be willing to try on some makeup and to get my ears re-pierced. I agreed. I had noticed that all the women I saw were wearing makeup, and I was keenly aware of how plain I seemed in comparison. I looked at makeup in the drugstore, but I had no idea what to use, where, and I was afraid to try anything out.
When I got to Walgreen’s, I purchased a bag of razors, some deodorant, a nice smelling fragrance and a pair of scissors. I noticed that Uncle Bill and Aunty Laura took showers every morning and almost every night. While I was shocked at the number of showers they took, I copied it as if it were normal for me too. I also noticed that they used this stuff called deodorant, and that they never seemed to smell at all. The only contact I had ever had with deodorant was when some Amish girls used it as perfume to wear before a young people’s gathering because that was the only time it was permissible to wear scent. Even then I remembered that when Matty and I used hers before the singing, we had not put it under our arms, but on our wrists and neck as if it had been perfume. While I was Amish, I had not thought much about body odor, although at times, particularly during the summer, things had been very rank; it was a normal and an accepted part of everyday life. But here in the modern world, I noticed that everyone seemed to smell good all the time, and most women wore perfume every day.
The next morning, I was still in the bathroom when I heard Denise come in. I nervously finished up, wondering what she would say about my new look. I had shaved my legs and underarms and used my new deodorant, and I felt quite sophisticated as I combed some strands of hair over my forehead and trimmed some bangs. To be honest, my bangs were definitely not the best, but for me it was something drastic and I thought it looked quite nice. I let the rest of my hair fall around my shoulders and down my back. Then I sprayed on my new fragrance. I smiled at myself in the mirror. I looked so incredibly different. My face fell a little though, as I looked at the white scarf that lay on the counter next to the sink. My head felt so naked. It was not that I believed I needed to wear the scarf anymore; it was just that I was more comfortable with it on. It was like a security blanket, and I felt a little anxious without it.
After a moment of just standing there, I finally grabbed the scarf, put it in the trashcan next to the sink, opened the door and walked out. My hands were shaking a little at the thought of going out without a head covering, but at the same time it was liberating to know that I would not be stared at anymore. Aunty Laura and Denise turned and looked at me as I entered the kitchen. Aunty Laura’s mouth fell open, and I saw a happy smile spread across her face as she gave me a hug and told me she was proud of me.
“I was wondering when this was going to happen,” she said as she sniffed me playfully. “You smell really good, too. I thought I was going to have to have a talk with you about deodorant.”
“Your hair is so beautiful.” Denise came over and took handfuls of it in her hands.
“Yeah.” Aunty Laura laughed. “She only washed it every week or so. It should be pretty healthy.”
My cheeks flushed with embarrassment as I saw the shocked expression on Denise’s face. Denise was a nurse at one of the local hospitals, and she was very modernly dressed. Whenever we visited her house and something about my past came up, she always seemed surprised, as if she had no idea what the Amish were, or that there were horrible people out there like my step-dad and mother. She was very nice, however, and said she was excited to help bring
me into the twenty-first century.
Our first stop was at a clothes shop. I don’t remember the name, but I do remember thinking that I had never been to a store that sold new clothes before. The skirts I was wearing were from a thrift store, and I had only paid a few dollars for each of them. Because of this, the price tags on the new clothes were an eye-opener for me. I had no idea that clothes could be so expensive.
Aunty Laura and Denise went around picking things out that they thought would look nice on me. I cringed when I saw them picking up sleeveless shirts they called tank tops. When they weren’t looking, I hid most of them under some clothes on a table nearby. I was equally hesitant when they picked up shorts and jeans. I shook my head violently, but Denise laughed at me and said I should just try them. I picked out a few light, summery dresses, and we all headed to the fitting room. Once there, Denise handed me a pair of jeans and nodded at me to put them on. I took off my skirt, slid into the jeans and looked into the mirror. I did not like the feeling of being in something that hugged my figure so well. It felt as if I were naked.
“Wow,” Denise exclaimed as she looked at my reflection in the mirror. “I wish I looked that good in a pair of jeans.”
“You and me both.” Aunty Laura smiled and pretended to pout.
I saw them both looking at me, and suddenly I panicked. I had thought I might try wearing jeans, but the very fact they were saying I looked good in them made me feel afraid.
“Very sexy,” Denise said as she came up behind me for a better look.
I started trying to get out of the jeans, but they were tight and seemed to stick to my legs. I started shaking, and I tried to blink back the tears that were forming in my eyes. If they were looking at me like this, I was afraid men would look at me the same way, and that was frightening. I knew it was irrational, but I could not seem to help it. Thankfully, Aunty Laura and Denise seemed to figure out what was wrong and helped me out of the pants. I could tell Aunty Laura had told Denise what had happened to me before I came to stay with her.
Denise hugged me and told me she was sorry and that I didn’t have to wear anything I was not comfortable in. I was my cheerful self again as I tried on the summer dresses and a few pretty T-shirts to wear with my denim skirts. Denise and Aunty Laura said they were excited to get my makeup done and my ears pierced, so that’s where we headed next.
We went to Aunty Laura’s hairdresser, who ran her business from her home. Aunty Laura said she had been going to this same lady for years. She was retired now, but she still had a few loyal customers that made appointments to go to her home, where one of the back rooms had been converted into a small salon. The woman met us at the door and waved us in. She was a kind woman that appeared to be her mid-sixties. She said Aunty Laura told her I had just left the Amish and was in need of all the basics. I smiled at her, although I had no clue what the “basics” were.
I sat in a black salon chair and watched as the women chattered about what they should do to me. They brought over a bunch of makeup samples and held them to my face. Then they talked about my hair and piercing my ears.
“Okay, honey.” The hairdresser came over to me. “What exactly do you want to look like when we are done?”
I furrowed my eyebrows and looked at her blankly. “Uh, like me,” I answered innocently.
They all laughed as if I had said something really funny.
“Girls. Girls,” Aunty Laura said, playfully slapping them on the back. “You know what she means.”
“Okay.” The hairdresser came over and looked at my eyebrows. “You have very nice, thick eyebrows. I think this is a good place to start.”
“What are you going to do with my eyebrows?” I asked.
“Wax them.” Aunty Laura nodded encouragingly.
I frowned, not understanding.
“You don’t really think these are our real eyebrow shapes, do you?” Denise asked.
I just smiled. I had no idea what they were talking about. I was in for a shock when the hairdresser put warm wax on my eyebrows, then a cloth over that that was yanked off. I almost wouldn’t let her do the other one and everyone laughed at how funny I was going to look walking around with one arched and one thick eyebrow.
It took about two hours before we were finished. The hairdresser trimmed my hair up to my waist, fixed my bangs, pierced my ears and helped me put on some light makeup. When everything was done, I got up and stood in front of the mirror. I could not believe it was me looking back. I was used to seeing an Amish girl in the mirror. The girl that looked back at me now seemed to be a different person. I was wearing a gray polka-dot blouse and a black skirt. The bangs framed my face nicely and reflected a dark auburn color in the sunlight. My long hair was wavy at the ends. I leaned in closer to look at the makeup and was pleased. It looked natural— just a little foundation, some pink blush, mascara and clear lip gloss. My ears were stinging from the piercings, but I liked the tiny sparkling earrings the hairdresser had put in.
“Well?” Aunty Laura asked. “What do you think?”
I nodded happily. It was just what I wanted. “Do you like it?” I asked her.
Aunty Laura smiled and nodded back. “Your hair is beautiful, and the makeup makes you look very sweet. You look fifteen now instead of fourteen.”
I frowned playfully. It was true: I did look much younger than most women my age, but I didn’t know how to remedy that.
Uncle Bill gave me a big hug when he saw me that evening and said he was going to have to get the shotgun out because now the boys would come sniffing around. I blushed, and he said I looked very cute. I was happy with my new look and felt less self-conscious at work. I knew that I would eventually have to start wearing pants, but I was just not ready for that yet.
I started studying for my GED before and after work. I chose the thickest book I could find, figuring it must have the most information. When I opened it for the first time, I was in shock at all the different topics I would have to study.
“What is a-l-g-e-b-r-a?” I asked Uncle Bill.
Uncle Bill shrugged and shook his head. “It’s been so long since I went to school, but I do know algebra is math.”
“Math?” I was in shock as I glanced at what looked more like drawings and letters. “How can you add up letters? It says here solve for X. That doesn’t make any sense.”
Uncle Bill laughed. “That’s what I said when I was a kid, but no one would listen to me.”
I frowned as I read down the list of subjects—social studies, science, writing, reading, and something called an essay. I did not know what any of that stuff was. Social studies would be easy, I thought. It was just reading and learning. Couldn’t be that hard, I told myself. I decided to make myself a schedule to follow. It was the only way to get this done. I got up at six in the morning and studied for an hour and a half, and then I made breakfast for Aunty Laura and Uncle Bill. I was at work Tuesday through Saturday from 9 to 5, and after work, Aunty Laura and Uncle Bill liked to go out for dinner or to one of their children’s houses. After they went to bed, usually around eleven, I turned on my bedside lamp, studied until the early morning hours, and then slept for a couple of hours before getting up again at six.
I still had horrible nightmares and didn’t really want to sleep anyway. I dreamed that Brian found me and shot me, or that Mamma was beating me up, or that I was back with the Amish and someone was being hurt and I couldn’t help them. Or worst of all, that Peter managed to kill me by smothering me with a pillow. I would wake up in a cold sweat, and sometimes Aunty Laura would be leaning over me and shaking my shoulders. It was bad, and during the day I was exhausted, but I forgot all of my tiredness because I was excited about getting a GED, attending the missionary school and eventually, starting college. Although people kept telling me it would be hard to accomplish, I never doubted myself for a second.
I called Karen and Carl about o
nce a week to see how they were doing. Karen told me that the Amish community did not have much to do with them anymore but had not tried to force them off the property due to the lease agreement. Karen thought Simba missed me; he walked around the pen looking out as if trying to see where I was and why I was not coming to sit with him. I missed him too, and sometimes wished I could wrap my arms around my fluffy friend. Maybe then I could sleep without the horrible nightmares.
Two weeks after I left the farm, I got a call from Karen. She told me there had been a new development in the case against Peter. She said that the previous day, the police had come out again to question him, and they had been there for a while. Karen said she didn’t know why the police had come, but they seemed pretty serious this time. She said that just that morning she had seen the entire family leave in a van driven by one of the neighbors. Later that afternoon, the police came back and stopped at Peter’s house again, only to find no one there. Supposedly the family had gone to visit relatives in Canada, but I knew they were not coming back and so did the police.
The next morning, I called the detective’s number and left him a message to call me back at the store. When he called, he told me that he had thought a lot about our conversation at the police station, and he had finally decided to take the case to one of his supervisors. After some time, the supervisor sent some more policemen out to question Peter again. They felt he was hiding something and that his wife looked a little rattled. He said they planned to take him in for questioning but when they got to the farm, they were shocked to find he was gone. When they talked to Jacob, he had told him about their trip to Canada and that he did not know the exact address. I was asked if I knew the address by any chance, but unfortunately I did not. All I knew was that they had family in Ontario.
Tears of the Silenced Page 24