by Mina Bennett
"Oh, this?" he said, glancing down at the plate. "No, no, this is for me."
As he shoved one of the burgers into his mouth in a single bite, I realized he wasn't kidding.
"And yes, she is a sweet girl," I said, taking one of the cheese cubes anyway. "Thank you for noticing."
"You seem..." He paused, searching for the right word.
"Happier?"
"Less comatose," he said. "But sure, whatever spin you want to put on it."
"I am," I said. "It's weird. I feel awake for the first time in ages."
"Great. Let's keep it that way."
Before I knew it, dusk was starting to fall. We all crowded into the attic level room and climbed out onto the roof below, laying out under the stars there were just barely starting to twinkle. Off in the distance, I heard the snapping and crackling of the kids' sparklers. Soon, the show would start.
Someone flopped down next to me.
"Hi," said Marissa, staring up at the sky.
"Hi," I said.
"Mark's being boring," she said. "Apparently, grown-ups don't climb up on the roof to watch fireworks."
"That's ridiculous." I kept my eyes up, and very much not on the delicate profile of her face, inches from mine.
The first few bursts of colored light lit up the sky to a chorus of gasps and "oohs" and "aahs."
"I'm going to miss this," said Marissa, very quietly, after a long silence.
My chest ached. "Well, you can still come. Even if you're too much of a grown-up for the roof stuff."
"Yeah," she said. "For now."
It was a given that eventually, she'd be moving away. Mark would go found his own church somewhere, or work wherever he felt God was calling him. But I hadn't thought about it until now. Hadn't let myself.
"Well, I'm sure you'll have something just as good, wherever you end up."
"Yeah," she said, drawing out the word slowly. I could tell she was turning her head to look at me, but I didn't dare meet her eyes. "I doubt it."
I swallowed hard.
"MARISSA!" Mark's voice boomed from somewhere inside the house. "Will you get down here please?"
She sighed, getting up and climbing back in through the window. I was still surrounded by people, but now I was alone. I couldn't exactly ride my bike or run around in circles screaming without someone noticing, and I didn't have a Bible on me.
There was nothing left to do but pray.
Please God, I don't want to love her anymore.
Please make it stop.
***
After the holiday weekend wound down, I was still completely at my wit's end. Lily was off at her college visit, and she'd barely taken the time to text me "xoxoxo" from wherever the heck she was. All the progress I thought I'd made after my epiphany at the party had come crashing down around my ears, as soon as Marissa laid down next to me on that roof.
There was still no solace in all the usual places I turned to for advice. With all the little things they addressed in the Bible, couldn't hopeless crushes be somewhere in there? I thought it seemed like a pretty glaring omission. Wouldn't Timothy have had some choice words about the subject?
Finally, I found myself in the kitchen, staring mindlessly at two packets of instant oatmeal I was holding, one in each hand. Apparently at some point I'd decided I needed to choose one or the other. I wasn't sure how long I'd been standing there.
My mom was sitting at the kitchen table, reading, and it occurred to me that I could talk to her. A second later, before I had a chance to filter it, this came rushing out:
"Was Dad the first guy you fell in love with?"
She looked at me like a deer in the headlights.
"This isn't a trick question," I said. "I really want to know." I sat down opposite her. Now that I'd said it out loud, I might as well fully commit.
She cleared her throat, setting down her mug of tea and closing the catalog she'd been paging through. "Well," she said. "I guess it depends on what you mean by 'fell in love.'"
"Let's assume the pop culture definition," I said.
"So, you mean, stars in my eyes, can't eat or sleep, et cetera? Well, yes, there was a guy in high school, of course. Long before I met your father. But I was just a kid. I grew out of it."
"But did it feel real? Back then?"
"Of course," she said. "They always do, in the moment. You don't really think about the future, or whether it makes any sense...or even whether they feel the same way about you. It's selfish. It's not really love, but it feels like it."
"How do you know the difference?" I pressed, leaning forward, scooting in closer with my elbows on the kitchen table. "I'm serious. Everyone always says...oh, real love is the thing you work at, the thing that keeps you together after all these years, but how do you know when you've just met someone? How do you tell the difference between being in love, and just being infatuated?"
My mom laughed a little. "At your age?" she said. "I wouldn't even venture a guess. That's why I'm not really a fan of this...you know, this courtship culture. I think everyone rushes into these things too quickly. They're kids, you know, they don't...they haven't had the experience to make these kinds of life-changing decisions. But, what do I know. Most of them seem happy. There's no denying that dating can make people miserable."
"But so can marriage."
She smiled, wryly. "Okay," she said. "So you've got that part figured out."
"I just don't know what to do," I admitted. "All the advice out there, it's easier said than done. Much easier."
"I know," she said, with a sigh. "And I wish I knew what to tell you." She looked at me searchingly. "Is this about Lily?"
There was the question I'd been dreading. I swallowed thickly. "Uh, sort of," I said. "I'm just, you know - thinking a lot. About everything."
"It's okay, you don't have to tell me." She raised her hands up, palms facing me. "Goodness knows I didn't want to talk to my parents about any of this stuff. I'll just say this. Looking back, I wish I hadn't wasted so much time worrying about my future love life while I was still a kid. Which you are. I know you don't like hearing it, but you've got so much life ahead of you. Do you know how many people, statistically, end up with their high school sweethearts? Or even college?"
"No," I said. "Do you?"
"No," she admitted. "But it's got to be approaching zero. Just relax and have fun. Enjoy what you have, while you have it. Nothing lasts forever, and if you spend all your time worrying about the future, you'll miss what's happening right now."
It was solid advice, I thought. But I still had no idea how to apply it to my situation. She was looking at me with unspoken questions in her eyes, and I knew she wanted me to just come out and admit that I still had feelings for Marissa. But I couldn't do that - not now - not anywhere outside of my own head. I had enough trouble dealing with it in there, as it was.
***
"You still fix bikes?"
I finished dumping the packet of cider into my cup of hot water, and turned around.
"Yeah," I said. Marissa had a way of sneaking up behind people, which for some reason I didn't really mind. "Sometimes. My own, mostly."
"That's great," she said. "You were always good at it."
I nodded, looking around to try and figure out why she was talking to me. All the other churchgoers were chatting quietly in the social hall, as was their wont, but Mark was nowhere to be found. She'd been following him around like a shadow ever since the wedding, barely making eye contact with anyone else. Now, she seemed to be avoiding him on purpose.
She didn't seem too anxious to continue this line of discussion, so I tried changing the subject. "So, how's everything with you? How's Mark?"
"Fine," she said, but her tone of voice betrayed something. "I...well, you know."
"Do I?" I smiled, trying to keep things lighthearted.
She sighed. "Yeah, we're going through a rough patch. Is it that obvious?"
"Kind of. You're normally attached at the hip."
I sipped my drink. "You want to talk about it?"
"It'll be fine." Her tone was matter-of-fact, but she was clearly very troubled by whatever had happened. I wasn't sure I'd ever seen Mark angry. He was unnerving enough when he wasn't.
"I'm sure it will be," I was saying, before I could stop. "He loves you."
Ugh. I didn't even believe myself.
"Can we talk about something else?" She wasn't looking at me, but she wasn't looking at Mark, either. She appeared to be staring at a blank spot on the wall.
"Sure," I said. "Sorry, I didn't..."
"It's fine," she cut in quickly, looking at me again with a slight smile. "Didn't you have some idea about opening a bike shop?"
"Oh. Well. Yeah." I shifted my stance a little, scratching the back of my neck. "It's more of a...I don't know, a daydream."
"I think you should do it," she said. "It's ridiculous that there's no place here to take your bike and get it fixed. Not even by the college, I bet you'd get plenty of business from there."
"Well," I said. "Maybe. But I'd probably need some start-up capital. My job doesn't really pay that much."
"You know my dad works at the bank." She was looking at me very pointedly.
I did, actually, but I didn't like where she was going with this. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah," she said. "He's a loan officer. I'm sure he could help you out."
"I'm sure he could," I said. "But I don't know. It seems..."
"What?" She looked at me, curious. And I couldn't come up with an answer.
This was what I wanted, after all. Wasn't it?
"Okay," I said. "I'll go in and talk to him."
Her whole face lit up with a smile, bright enough to hurt.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Marissa
Lakeshore Bible Camp was the summer's last great hurrah. Every year, all the families from Eternal Grace would gather at a nearby campground, along with the congregations of several other local churches, to spend a weekend in worship and fellowship. When I'd heard it was just a few weeks after our wedding, I'd assumed we wouldn't be in attendance, but Mark quickly disabused me of that notion. He had to be at camp - it was important for the youth group kids to have some leadership and guidance. And, of course, being his wife, I had to be there as well.
I didn't mind, really. Lakeshore was situated on a beautiful little waterfront, as its name implied, and there were plenty of woods to get lost in, but never too lost. It was actually a relief that Lakeshore wasn't necessarily one of those parts of my childhood I'd have to give up. Then again, Mark might end up planting his own church any day now, one that wasn't affiliated with the camp. There was no way to be sure what his future held. For now, I just had to enjoy what time I had left here.
Mark and I got one of the "nice cabins," which was a new experience for me. In the past, I'd always pitched a tent with my family. But this cabin actually had a door that closed all the way, indoor plumbing, and a double-wide bed that would accommodate us both comfortably.
"I almost feel kinda bad," I said to him on the first night, lounging on top of the only-slightly-scratchy mattress.
"Don't," he said. "We've earned it."
After he brushed his teeth, he climbed in to bed and nuzzled against me, his stubble scratching the sensitive skin on my neck. I froze, but didn't pull away. We hadn't tried to make love again since the last time, and I started to feel my whole body tense up at the thought.
"Relax, baby," he whispered, climbing on top of me and kissing me roughly. He was already hard and eager, and I couldn't disappoint him this time. I just couldn't.
Desperately, I tried to remember what the doctor had said about it being in my head. I tried to relax, to take my mind somewhere that would force my inner muscles to go slack. If I just thought about something else, maybe, if I could stop being so nervous, everything would be all right.
He was pawing at me already, pushing my underwear aside and jamming his fingers inside me - or trying to. He let out a frustrated noise, and I tried not to wince.
"What's the matter this time?" he demanded.
"I don't know," I said, feeling my throat start to tighten. But no, I couldn't cry. Not now. That would just make it worse. "I guess it's just...I guess I'm just not used to it."
"Well, this isn't going to work," he said, his fingers still pressing insistently inwards. "You're my wife, we need to be able to be intimate this way. Otherwise..."
"I know, I know!" I started to squirm away from him, but he reached out and grabbed my hip.
"Shh, shh," he said. "You're just making it worse. Come on. Can't you just relax? Think about something that makes you smile."
Jacob.
"There we go," said Mark, approvingly, and I felt his fingers slide into me, as easy as anything.
Oh no, no no no no. No. This is wrong. This is -
"That's my girl," Mark whispered. "I knew you could do it."
But the harder I tried to force myself not to think of Jacob, the more he filled my mind. Of course. It was always like that, wasn't it? But this was not okay. If Mark ever found out, he'd...he'd...
Mark would never find out.
He shoved into me with one quick, brutal thrust. I cried out in pain, biting my lip, feeling my muscles start to tense again, until I thought of Jacob's smile. Mark grunted on top of me, but in my mind, in a dark secret place no one would ever know, I looked up and saw Jacob's face, felt his body pressing against mine. Felt him inside me.
There was a sick pit of guilt in my stomach, but it couldn't stop the fantasy, the tendrils of pleasure that crept through my body at the idea of...
I had to stop. I had to. This was wrong, so wrong I'd never forgive myself.
But I couldn't. My body, my traitorous body, knew what it wanted. And I was just along for the ride.
Without warning, a wave of pleasure crashed over me, frightening in its intensity and leaving me breathless. I lay there limp, spent, until Mark rolled off of me and almost immediately fell asleep.
Dear Lord, please...please forgive me...
But as always, there was no answer.
***
"Matthew."
"Becca."
"Jordan."
"Danny."
I stood patiently, with my hands behind my back. A few times, I tried to catch Mark's eyes, but he wasn't looking at me.
"Lily," he said, pointing to the athletic girl with the infectious smile that Jacob was apparently courting. She ran over to Mark's side of the net, her ponytail bouncing behind her. There was a bitter taste in my mouth, but I told myself, very firmly, that it was not jealousy. I was a married woman. I had no right to be jealous.
I remembered last night's fantasy, and felt sick to my stomach.
"John," said Brandon, looking intensely bored with the whole process. I couldn't figure out why he'd been chosen as the second team captain, since he looked like he'd rather be putting a pencil through his eye.
"Kimberly."
"Luke."
"Curtis."
"Lindsey."
The group of unchosen players was dwindling. I realized I was clenching my fists at my sides, and I forced myself to relax. Obviously, he was just doing this to avoid the appearance of treating me differently because I was his wife. After all, he wouldn't be Mark if he didn't treat a pick up volleyball game like a national league playoff.
"Liz."
"Madeline."
And there it was. It had just happened. I was the last person waiting to be picked, and it was Mark's turn to call sides.
"Hey," he said, looking at Brandon. Still carefully avoiding my eyes. "Come over here a second, let me talk to you, okay? Captain's meeting."
He led Brandon several yards away, turning his back to us before he started speaking in hushed but urgent tones. I couldn't really catch the words, but something told me that I knew exactly what was being discussed.
My stomach felt like it was full of rocks. I didn't dare look at the two groups of people standing just
a few feet away, already chosen by their teams, waiting to play.
"Hey, Marissa," came Jacob's voice, softly. "I don't really feel like playing. Why don't you take my place?"
I shook my head, but he started walking over anyway. "Seriously," he said. "Guys?" Brandon and Mark turned towards him. "I tripped over a tree root earlier and my ankle still hurts. I thought it'd be okay but I think it's better if I just sit this one out. Somebody needs to keep score anyway. Marissa's going to play for me, okay?"
"Sure," said Brandon, looking relieved. "Come on, Mari, let's play."
Mark was staring at the ground as he walked back to his side of the net. I was really more confused than angry, still trying to process what had happened. The field was crowded, but the moment the ball came within a few feet of me, I lunged my way over and spiked it as hard as I could, right in Mark's direction.
He dodged at the last second, flailing out of the way in the most undignified manner possible. I couldn't suppress the hysterical laugh that bubbled up in my chest, as I heard Jacob yell Woooo! from his spot on the sidelines. Someone high-fived me. Mark picked up the ball, forcing a smile before he served.
I knew there was going to be a Discussion later, but right now, I didn't care.
During the game, I was single-minded. My eyes saw nothing but the ball and my body was ready to jump at the slightest sign it would come near me. We won by three points, and it wasn't until the game was over that I first wondered what was running through the heads of everyone who hadn't wanted me on their team, even if they weren't as blatant about it as Mark.
As we scattered, Mark made no effort to join up with me, but Brandon did.
"I'm really sorry about that," he said, keeping his voice low and glancing over his shoulder like he thought Mark might be listening. "I didn't pick you because I figured he would."
"Yeah," I said. "I figured too."
"Well, you were great," he said. "So don't worry about it."
I had to smile. Brandon was so rarely sincere, which made me appreciate his small acknowledgement all the more.
