Not So Pure and Simple

by Lamar Giles

  “Nobody, ever in the history of the world, was simply curious about the food here.”

  She rested the half-eaten sandwich on her tray, and wouldn’t touch it again. “Kiera told me about things between you two.”

  “Y’all talk like that?” Despite my anger over the way things went down, despite the confusion and disappointment and embarrassment I felt when my family confronted me about it, despite the foolishness of everything I did and tried to do, hope sparked like an ember in my chest.

  Did Kiera feel more for me than she’d ever let on?

  Was Sister Vanessa here to tell me Kiera had been as miserable as me over these last few weeks? Had I crossed her mind every time her head touched the pillow, or her feet crossed the threshold into Green Creek High? I waited.

  Sister Vanessa said, “I know it hurts when someone you like doesn’t feel the same way, Del. I’m sorry your pain drove you to react badly.”

  That ember was snuffed with a knife’s tip, the blade then twisted, scraping the soft things inside me.

  “Despite that, I’d hoped you and your mother would return to First Missionary.”

  “Sounds like you’d be the only one.”

  “Not true. Believe it or not, you and your mother were good for the church. We need new blood, with new ideas.”

  “I don’t think your uncle would agree.”

  Sister Vanessa pushed back against her bench, taking her time, choosing her words. “Uncle Eldridge is an old man. He doesn’t always understand that times change, as do the needs of the congregation. He hasn’t adjusted well since my aunt passed. He really is a good person who does what he thinks is right. He’s lost his North Star.”

  “I don’t think all that matters much when he’s forcing kids to shame themselves publicly.”

  “You’re not wrong.”

  “Why doesn’t anyone stand up to him, then? Why don’t you?”

  “Uncle Eldridge isn’t the only one stuck in old ways. I was raised to not challenge the pastor. He’s the leader. My role in the body of the church is to report to him.”

  The excuses and justifications grated on me, so I said more than I intended. Maybe too much. “Is that why you told him we went to Commonwealth University? Just doing your job? Maybe me and my mom wouldn’t have had to leave if you could’ve overlooked that particular responsibility.”

  I don’t know if I would’ve spoken to an adult like that in any other setting. She came here, though. She inserted herself into a night where I’d planned to do my job and go home and not bother anyone.

  Sister Vanessa’s eyes narrowed. I figured she was about to check me for my disrespect. She said, “I didn’t tell on you and the Purity Pledge class, Del. I never even saw you at the event.”

  “You didn’t?” Could I believe her? Should I? “Why were you even there?”

  “New blood. New ideas. I’m seeking answers, same as all of you.”

  “Answers? Like us?”

  “Yes, I know about the others coming to you with their curiosities. With no Pledge, and you gone, there was no reason to keep it secret anymore.”

  “And you still think me and Mom should come back?”

  “I do.”

  The door chimes sounded and several burly road crew workers in reflective vests over heavy coats filed in for dinner. Break time was over. I slid from the booth. Said, “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Sister Vanessa. You’re nice, and I like you, but can you honestly tell me if I did come back, your uncle wouldn’t push me to ‘bare my soul’ before all was forgiven?”

  She didn’t answer. Didn’t have to.

  “That’s what I thought. It was nice to see you again, and if you like dessert, you can’t go wrong with the apple turnover here.”

  I left her to her meal; filled the road crew’s order. It didn’t take long, but when I glanced toward Sister Vanessa’s booth, it was unoccupied and the table was spotless, like she’d never been there at all.

  Chapter 28

  SCHOOL COULDN’T END FAST ENOUGH.

  Everything that had come at me in these last few weeks made my head feel crowded and mushy. Sister Vanessa’s visit to FISHto’s rattled me more than I liked. I didn’t think I missed First Missionary, and I hadn’t thought much about the Pledgers, but that was because I made myself not think about them. The task at hand became everything. At school I was like a bloodhound sniffing my way to class. Head down, eyes on my exact path, concentrating hard enough that I could almost ignore Mason’s taunts over his superiority, Kiera’s scowls over our last conversation, Jameer’s attempts at any sort of conversation, and so on. Even when I shared FISHto’s shifts with Mya I sought any and every task that kept me moving and quiet. She didn’t try to force anything different, which I was grateful for.

  We were two days away from a long holiday break; time away from everyone’s drama might be enough to get me back to some kind of social equilibrium. I could become New Year’s Del. Put all of my mess behind me.

  So, one might imagine exiting school the Thursday before break, and finding Jameer sitting inside my car, being both unexpected and unwanted.

  I considered an about-face. Hell, I turned all the way around, but spotted Shianne inside the school entrance. I’d successfully avoided her, too, and given the very real work I apparently needed to do processing my feelings toward all the women in my life, Jameer became the better option.

  Climbing behind the wheel, I keyed the ignition, turned on the heat because winter had come, and said, “Did I leave the door unlocked, or did you break in? If you broke in, I’m going to have way more questions.”

  “The door was unlocked.” He sniffed hard, like he might have a cold. But, his eyes were also red, puffy. He’d been crying. A lot.

  “What’s wrong, Jameer?”

  “I messed up, Del. I’m sorry. I messed up.”

  “Messed up what?”

  He cupped his face in his hands, folded himself almost in half. “If I tell you, promise you won’t get mad.”

  “I promise I’ll try.”

  “I told Pastor about our road trip, Del. It was me.”

  He didn’t look at me. I was glad, because I’m sure my face would’ve betrayed my promise to try holding back my anger. “You? Why?”

  “I overdid the wine that night. My parents knew I’d been drinking. They were so angry, they called Pastor—woke him up—to ask for prayer and guidance. They actually took me to his house, eleven o’clock at night, Del. And he drilled me. Who, what, when, where. I didn’t say anything, though. Not at first. I swear. Then my parents said if I wouldn’t confess to the three of them, maybe I’d do it for the whole church, and I couldn’t go through that humiliation again. So, I told them about the trip. Not everything. Not that the wine came from Ralph and Bobby, because who knows what would’ve happened to them. I—”

  “Told about my part in it.”

  He raised his face from his hands. Tears puddling in his palms. “You’re not like the rest of us, Del. I knew Pastor couldn’t crack you. I knew you could take it.”

  My anger siphoned off quickly because that wasn’t true. Pastor did crack me, and Healthy Living went away. I’d been where Jameer was, and I’d broken, too. The difference, I never confessed my role to MJ. Let him think it was anyone else but me. Jameer was the bravest person in my car.

  I placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezed gently. “It’s cool. That’s all behind us now and everyone’s fine.”

  “No, Del. They’re not.” He choked up into fresh sobs, unable to speak through them. Gave me time to think and get worried.

  I said, “Something else happened.”

  “My parents . . . found out . . . about Ramsey.”

  I twisted in my seat, paranoid, expecting his parents to swoop down like monsters and snatch us away. “How bad was that?”

  “Not as bad as it could’ve been, because I was able to convince them of what they want to hear. They’ve chosen to believe my story that he’s not my boyfriend.”

>   “So what’s the problem?”

  “A couple of nights ago I was with him because I was covering for Kiera. Me and her went out together, then we split up. We were supposed to reconnect on the street behind our houses, you know, same old plan. But I got back first, in time for the most random evening jog my dad ever took. He ran right up on me and Ramsey in the car. We weren’t making out, thank God, but there were questions. So many questions.”

  This was going in a direction I didn’t like, for a lot of reasons. He’d been covering for Kiera. “How did you answer?”

  “I couldn’t go through it again, Del. Do you know how bad it would’ve been if I’d admitted I was with my boyfriend?”

  Oh, Jameer. “You put it all on her.”

  He cried some more. I felt a familiar irritation, my mind going in different directions than what he probably intended. “Who was she with, Jameer?”

  I thought he might not answer. Maybe he thought I’d gotten over it all—until that moment, I kind of thought I had. “Mason.”

  “Still! Even after—”

  He flinched, pressed against the passenger door like he was trying to knock it off its hinges.

  No, Del. No. It’s not your business. “Why tell me?”

  “Who else can I tell? It’s eating me alive.”

  “You feel better now?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Because I don’t either, Jameer. What happened after you blamed everything on her?”

  “You don’t know?”

  I had an idea. “They’re going to make her confess in front of everyone, aren’t they? You wouldn’t be this upset if it wasn’t that.”

  “It’s my fault.”

  “Yes. It sounds that way.”

  He looked freshly wounded. Maybe I meant to hurt him. I still had work to do. Clearly.

  I softened my tone, proposed the only thing that seemed logical. “If you feel this bad, then maybe you take it from her. Tell Newsome and your parents that you lied.”

  “My dad caught her when she pulled up with Mason. Can’t take that back.”

  “She didn’t snitch on you when she got caught?”

  He shook his head.

  “Then maybe you should both confess. Or maybe you both refuse to do it.”

  “You know it doesn’t work like that.”

  It never would, not when First Missionary was stuck in the old ways, with that old blood pumping through its veins.

  Most of our classmates exited the lot by bus or car. Jameer’s heaving chest settled into normal breaths, and I didn’t know what else to say on the topic he dropped on me other than “I know how it is to have Newsome press you. I’m not mad you cracked. I can’t be. I can’t say if I were you, I wouldn’t have thrown Kiera under the bus. I don’t have much to say beyond that. I’m not there anymore.”

  “I know. I still like talking to you, though. You’re a good listener, Del.”

  Was I?

  His hand rested on the door handle, tugged it, let in knifing cold air as he prepared to exit.

  “I can take you home.”

  “No,” he said, “it’s best if I get home on my own. All things considered.”

  Jameer got out, but before he was gone, I said, “Are you and Kiera going to be cool again? You’ve been friends a long time.” I didn’t say they needed each other, but I always got the sense they did.

  “I don’t think so. I can’t fix this. Even if I could, I don’t think so. Do you?”

  I couldn’t comfort him with a satisfactory answer. That feeling was the worst in a while.

  Home was filled with familiar smells, and sounds, and fullness. I felt the change as soon as I stepped in. The suitcase and bulging laundry sack confirmed my sister was home for the holidays.

  Dad greeted me in the kitchen, tossing things for some meal into his new Instant Pot.

  “Hey,” I shot back, heading upstairs.

  “You all right?” he asked. “You usually want to know what’s cooking.”

  Getting into the complexities of what troubled me was not even an option, so I simply asked, “What is it?”

  “Gumbo.”

  “Awesome, Dad.” I got away before there were more questions. From him, anyway.

  Cressie’s bedroom door was cracked, and even with my best stealth moves, I didn’t make it past unnoticed.

  “Hey,” she called, tugging the door wide. “You’re not going to say hello?”

  “Hello.”

  “Come in here.”

  “Are you live on IG?”

  “Naw. Nothing like that. Come in.”

  I entered, found no bulky camera cases or other equipment this time. There was her MacBook, decorated with CU decals, and a yellow legal pad next to it filled with scribbled notes. She was perched in her desk chair, cross-legged and tiny. I said the most small-talkiest thing I could think of. “Your first semester go okay?”

  “Straight As. The channel was a huge hit in my sociology class.” She motioned for me to have a seat on her bed. I hopped onto the cotton candy comforter and waited for whatever this was. From that position, I caught a glimpse of her computer screen. It was her face, in a frozen video.

  “New episode?”

  “Yep, for tomorrow. I’m making some small edits and plan to post it right after midnight.” Abruptly, she changed the subject. “You mad at me?”

  “For what?”

  “We haven’t talked since the family meeting.”

  I scanned the posters on her wall. Migos. Cardi B. Luke James and Algee Smith. Traced my gaze over her bookshelf. The photos rimming her mirror frame. Anywhere but at her. “Naw. I’m good.”

  “You don’t sound good, or look good, baby bro. Something on your mind?”

  “What makes you ask?”

  “Your face is like a children’s book. Easily read.”

  “College went and made you corny.”

  “Better me than Mom. You let her see you looking like that and it’s going to be a for-real conversation. What’s up?”

  “It ain’t about the family meeting.”

  Her head bobbed. Waiting.

  So, I told her, because I had to tell somebody. Not only the conversation with Jameer, or the FISHto’s dinner with Sister Vanessa. I told her all of it, from the beginning. I don’t know if I could’ve done this with Cressie even three months ago. Like I said, I’d been keeping up with her show. I’d watched her field tough questions and give thoughtful answers. My sister was more than the person who slept down the hall, and stole my Fruit Roll-Ups. Seeing her these days was like a fog lifting.

  Midway through my story, around when Kiera and I walked home from Mama Marian’s and I didn’t get my kiss, we heard Mom come in downstairs. Cressie closed her bedroom door fully, and motioned for me to go on, but quietly. It took almost an hour to get it all out, and when I did, I felt lighter than I had in a long time.

  “Wow,” Cressie said, “that’s a lot. I picked up on some of it from what Mom told me, but it’s way deeper.”

  “I agree. Imagine being in it.”

  She fidgeted. Chewed her lip. Looked more hesitant than I’d ever known her to be. I asked, “Why aren’t you saying what you want to say?”

  “I don’t want it to sound harsh, is all.”

  “I’m beyond hurt feelings at this point.”

  “It seems to me like you understand this now, but I have to say it, because I love you, and it’s better you hear it from someone close. Kiera . . . it’s not going to happen.”

  Heavy sigh. “That became clear shortly after the dude she actually likes punched me in the eye.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re a girl. Can I ask you a Girl Question?”

  “I’m not sure I’m a fan of the phrasing, but go on.”

  “Why do you think she’d still be spending time with him—probably still boning him—after he ran his mouth and the whole school knows their business?”

  “Honest answer? He appeals to something in her
. Something good, or something flawed, or something in between. In time she might find that thing, whatever it is, isn’t appealing anymore. Or, she might marry him and start a family. Whatever her reasons, we don’t have to understand them. She gets to make her own decisions.” She became suddenly timid. “Right?”

  “Yeah, I get it.”

  Matter-of-fact, she said, “Also, the sex might be really good.”

  Spoken like she had way more experience in that area than what I was comfortable with. I said, “That’s enough, Cressie.”

  “My bad.”

  Something in me felt freer. At the same time, something in me wasn’t. I hadn’t unloaded all of my burdens. “This isn’t going to make a ton of sense, I don’t think, because I didn’t really like going to church with Mom every Sunday, but I miss parts of it. I miss my friends there.”

  “The ones I met at the university.”

  I nodded. “I messed up some stuff for them. I want to fix it, but not the way it’s usually done. I think that way is as wrong—or worse—as anything I’ve done. But adults are funny, they don’t seem to know when they’re out of line.”

  “Preach!”

  We laughed a bit.

  “Hey kids,” Dad called from downstairs, “dinner’s ready.”

  Cressie popped from her chair. I rose, too. She said, “Maybe you’ll think better on a full stomach.”

  “Maybe.” When we left her room she flipped the light switch, so the only brightness was her face, on her MacBook, that video she needed to prep.

  Something began to churn in the back of my head.

  Food first, though.

  After dinner, in my room, I tapped a text to Qwan, who was Angie-free for a night thanks to her visiting uncle taking her people to a movie. I was in socks, flimsy PJ pants, and a Green Creek sweatshirt, bundled beneath the covers because it was chilly. I chatted with my friend, my phone glowing like a lantern in a mineshaft.

  Me: What you told me, about those girls robbing you . . . you regret it?

  Qwan: Hell yeah I regret it. Who doesn’t regret getting robbed, D?

  Me: No! Do you regret telling me it was a lie? Technically, you lied on your dick. Cardinal sin.

  Qwan: I’m not sorry I told you the truth. I actually feel better knowing you know. I never have to worry about getting found out later.