“I know,” I said quickly. “But at home I sleep at friends’ houses all the time, and my parents don’t mind.” Rachel still seemed doubtful. “I guess it’s okay,” she said. “I trust you to keep a good head on your shoulders.” I wasn’t sure why Rachel seemed concerned about the sleepover, but I was relieved that she wouldn’t keep me from going.
Just then the doorbell rang, and I jumped up to get it. Josh was waiting on the stoop. He smiled when he saw me, waving a DVD. “Okay,” he said, walking in and heading toward the family room, “I think you’ve gone long enough without seeing The Wizard of Oz.”
I sat on the couch and waited while Josh put the DVD in the slot and turned on the TV. Within minutes I was in another place, caught up in the life of the girl and her dog who had blown away from their gray Kansas farm to a world with color and music and magical adventures. Curled next to Josh, I laughed at the exploits of the fearful lion and the brainless scarecrow and the tin man who didn’t have a heart. I cringed at the evil of the green-faced witch, and was filled with disappointment when the wizard turned out to be a phony. Rachel joined us, humming along with the songs and occasionally saying a line along with a character. When Sam and the children came back from their outing, Ben and Janie climbed onto the couch with us, their high voices joining in with the singing. Sam perched on the end of the couch and added his voice to what now had become a sing-along. Apparently, I was the only one who didn’t know the movie by heart.
At the end, when Dorothy was back in her drab clothes on her gray farm, Josh and Sam and Rachel and the children all chanted together, ‘Oh, Auntie Em, there’s no place like home.’”
Everyone clapped and cheered, and I joined in, buoyed by the sense that everyone here shared this movie, that it was a part of their lives. “How do you all know this so well?” I asked.
“Before DVDs it used to be on TV once a year,” said Rachel. “It was always a celebration, that day. My cousins would come over and we’d order pizza and watch it together.”
“Now we can watch it anytime we want,” said Josh. “It’s the one movie everybody’s seen.”
It was one of those moments when I could have felt like an outsider. I chose not to. “Well, you’ve finally met someone who’d never seen The Wizard of Oz.”
“Yeah,” said Josh. “Now you’re one of us.” I smiled, but there was one thought I couldn’t get out of my mind. Why did Dorothy want to leave Oz and go back to Kansas?
That night, Josh and I went out to dinner at a place that he called a “sports bar.” Television sets were perched high on the walls around the restaurant, each turned to a different sporting event. Josh’s eyes kept darting around from the baseball game on one TV to the football game on another. I felt like I had to work hard for his attention.
I tapped on the table. “Remember me?”
“Sorry,” he said, slowly lowering his eyes from one of the TV screens and facing me. “It’s the play-offs.”
The waiter brought our cheeseburgers and fries, and refilled our Cokes. When he left, I looked back at Josh, only to see that he was glancing down at his cell phone cradled in the palm of his hand, his thumb moving back and forth over the buttons.
“What?” I asked.
“The party’s moving to Greg’s house tonight. I just got a text from him.”
He poured ketchup on his cheeseburger, and I waited. He looked up. “You’ll get to meet a few people from our Homecoming group at the party tonight.”
“Good,” I said, happy that we were having a conversation. “Tell me about them.”
But Josh’s eyes were downturned again. He smiled at his cell phone.
“What?” I asked again.
“Nothing. Just something funny Oscar texted me.”
“So, who’s going to be there tonight?”
“Ashley, Chelsea, Michael, Oscar. They’re excited to meet you.”
His eyes slid down to the table, where he had set his cell phone beside his plate. He reached for it and tapped a few more keys with his thumb.
I cleared my throat. “I didn’t know that you and Valerie used to be a couple.”
He looked up from his phone, a blank expression on his face. “That was random. Yeah, we went out for a few months sophomore year. Why?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just that you never mentioned it to me.”
He tapped a few more buttons on his phone and looked back at me. “I didn’t think it was important.” He paused. “Have you ever had a boyfriend before me?”
I hesitated. “Sort of.”
“Daniel?” he asked. “The guy who made you that wood carving on your nightstand?”
I looked at him, startled. “How did you…?”
“Valerie told me. By the way, in case you haven’t already figured it out, she’s not good at keeping secrets.”
“Well, it wasn’t a secret,” I said. “I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. Daniel and I weren’t exactly courting.”
“It’s no big deal,” said Josh. “I didn’t expect that I was your first boyfriend. I know you had a life before you came here. And I had one too.”
“Fair enough,” I said, feeling a little foolish. I took another bite of my cheeseburger and looked back at Josh. He was staring down at his cell phone.
“How many people are actually out to dinner with us?” I asked, anger rising in my voice.
Josh’s eyes returned to mine. “I’m sorry.” He slid his phone into his pocket. “So, what do you want to talk about?” he asked.
I couldn’t help myself. “Why did you and Valerie break up?”
Josh groaned. “Really? This is what you want to talk about?”
I nodded.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll admit something. This is the longest relationship I’ve ever been in. Before I met you, I would be with someone for maybe a few weeks. Then I’d find something wrong with her.”
“What kinds of things were wrong?” I asked, trying to hide my eagerness.
“Mostly, I had this feeling that the girls were all interchangeable. I know they weren’t, really, but that’s how it seemed. I guess I was always looking for something distinctive in the girl I was with, something that set her apart. And I never found it.” He paused and looked at me, his grin inching upward. “Until now.”
I looked down, feeling self-conscious and pleased.
“Your turn,” he said. “I came clean, now you have to.”
He was right. If I wanted to know about his other relationships, it was only fair that he know about mine. I took a breath. “There was really only one boy. Daniel. We hadn’t gotten to courting yet, but if I had stayed at home, we’d probably be together by now.”
“What’s he like?”
“He’s what we call ‘Good Amish.’ He follows the rules, doesn’t feel rebellious, like I did.” I thought for a moment. “He’s the one you’d go to if you needed help. He’d always be there for you.”
“Do you miss him?”
“Sometimes. We know each other pretty well, so I always felt easy around him.”
“But you didn’t feel ‘easy’ around me?”
“Not in the beginning,” I said. “I was always worried about saying the wrong thing. Like when I thought you worked at a fruit stand. Or when I told you I liked Billy Joel. Or when I asked you to take me to The Sound of Music.” We both laughed.
Josh smiled. “Well, I’m glad you’re comfortable now.” I nodded. Then he asked, “Does Daniel know about us?”
I swallowed and shook my head. I was beginning to think this conversation was a bad idea.
Josh tapped his spoon on the table. “Maybe you should tell him, so he has the freedom to see someone else.” I fiddled with the wrapper of my straw, trying to find an answer. Josh leaned forward. “So what’s your plan here? Are you going to leave that poor guy on the hook?” Then he sat back and dropped the spoon on the table. It made a clattery sound. “Or am I on the hook until you go back to him?”
; “No one’s ‘on the hook,’” I said quickly, shaking my head at the odd expression. “You’re my boyfriend. I’ll send Daniel a letter and tell him about us. He deserves to know.”
Josh was right. It wasn’t fair of me to keep our relationship a secret from Daniel.
I had sent Daniel a few short letters since his visit, but I’d never told him anything about being with another boy. That night I forced myself to do it.
Dear Daniel,
You have always been honest with me, and I want to give you the same respect. I want you to know that I have been in a relationship with a boy here. I don’t know where this courtship will lead, but I feel it is only fair that you know about it. I think of you often, and I appreciate our friendship. I hope you are well and that you are enjoying this time of freedom.
With warm thoughts,
Eliza
A few days later I received a letter from Daniel.
Dear Eliza,
Thank you for your honesty.
Daniel
On Friday night, I didn’t have to babysit, and we went to the school football game. The evenings were getting chilly, and I realized that I hadn’t brought any warm clothing with me when I left home. Josh gave me one of his sweatshirts with the word “Giants,” the name of the school team, across the chest.
Sitting on the metal bleachers, I felt the camaraderie that had surged around me at the Cubs game. But this was closer to home. Everyone here knew players on the field and cheerleaders in their short skirts and members of the marching band with their rousing spirit.
I didn’t understand the game at all. It looked like groups of well-padded boys huddling together before ramming their bodies into well-padded boys in different-colored uniforms. But I loved the cheers and the fight songs and the sense of being in a community. And sitting in the stands, dressed in school colors, I was like everyone else. Just one of the crowd.
After the game, we went out with Greg and Valerie to celebrate the victory. At the table, Josh fiddled with his phone. He had been taking pictures with it during the game, and he was looking through them to see if he could use any in his newspaper story.
“Can I see?” I asked. He leaned over and showed me the small flat surface of his cell phone. Etched under the glass was a miniature frozen scene from the football game, a player running with the ball cradled in his curved arm, while a player from the other team chased him. Josh pressed a button and the picture changed, showing the players together in the close circle they call a huddle.
“So phones are also cameras,” I said.
“Oh, yeah,” said Greg, pulling his phone out. “My whole life is in here. I’ve got my photos, playlists, e-mails.” He held his phone in front of him. “Smile, Eliza,” he said. Instinctively, I put a hand in front of my face. For all that I had experienced in this fancy world, I had never had my picture taken. My soul had yet to be stolen.
“Typical girl,” said Greg, with a laugh. “They never want their pictures taken.”
“Wait till next weekend,” Valerie said, playfully elbowing me. “There’ll be so many cameras on you, you won’t know where to look.”
I caught my breath. We had talked about getting our pictures taken before the dance, but I hadn’t considered what it meant for me. Now I thought about the impending stealing of my soul. Smiling, I realized that I’d have something new to add to the list in my journal.
That Sunday, Josh and I sat at the dinner table with Beth and John. Josh was in an animated discussion with John about Northwestern.
“So, do you have any connections with the admissions office?” Josh asked. “I think I’m going to need all the help I can get.”
John shook his head. “Sorry, Josh. I’m afraid you’re on your own. But when the time comes, I’ll be happy to look over your entrance essay and give you some pointers.”
“Thanks. It’s still a year before I’ll be applying, but everyone talks about it like our whole future hinges on where we go.” He shook his head. “I try not to think of it that way. I just want to be in a good journalism program.”
“You’re pretty young to know what you want to major in,” said John.
Josh leaned forward, and I readied myself for stories of his love for journalism. I enjoyed hearing how, as a little boy, he wrote sports headlines and drew pictures to go along with them, and how he’d turn the sound down on the television to give the commentary on the baseball games, talking into an imaginary microphone. “I don’t know exactly where I’ll end up,” he continued, “but I know I want to work in an area I’m passionate about. I’m not going to spend my life chasing the dollar.”
John nodded, and I could see he was pleased. I got up to help Aunt Beth clear the table. I always felt uncomfortable when Josh talked about the future. The only thing I knew about mine was that I’d be here through November. After that, things got murky.
“What are you thinking?” asked Aunt Beth, filling the teapot. I set the plates down in the sink and turned to her.
“I wish I could talk about my future.”
“Do you think about it?”
I laughed. “Only all the time.”
Beth’s voice was cautious. “Sixteen is young to know what you want to do.”
“I know, but I’ve been thinking since my mother’s visit that from now on this will be my decision. I needed my parents’ permission to come here, and then to stay past the summer. But I know now that if I decide to stay, they’ll respect my wishes. It’ll be hard for them, but I think they’re ready to take that step.”
Beth looked hopeful. “Do you think you will? Decide to stay?”
I thought for a minute before I met Beth’s gaze. “I imagine it.”
She smiled. “And what’s it like in your imagination?”
“Well, I have a cell phone and playlists and my own computer. I drive a car.” I paused. “I guess I imagine living like you. And like Rachel.”
“And what do you imagine when you think about going home?”
I was quiet. I realized that I’d never thought about that possibility. My imagination never took me home.
When the day of the dance finally arrived, I didn’t know if I was excited or relieved. I packed a small bag with pajamas, toothbrush, and a change of clothes, and gave it to Josh, along with a sleeping bag I had borrowed from Rachel, to bring over to Valerie’s house for the girls’ sleepover.
Then I spent the better part of two hours washing and primping, staring endlessly at my changing reflection in the mirror. Rachel helped me draw a thin black line on my upper and lower eyelids, close to my lashes. I added eye shadow and blush, and then coated my lashes with mascara until they looked thick and inky. I still hadn’t gotten the hang of using the hair dryer, so Rachel did it for me. When she was finished, my hair fell over my shoulders, smooth and shiny with a hint of curl.
Putting on the panty hose was a little tricky. Rachel had told me to inch the stockings up, one leg at a time, and to be careful not to poke my fingernail through the hose. When the stockings were finally on, they encased my legs in a way that felt smooth but a little itchy. I stepped into the blue dress and again felt the thrill I’d had in the fitting room when I first tried it on. I clipped on the blue earrings and fastened the silver necklace. A small black purse I borrowed from Rachel was ready with lipstick and a pair of white socks. Last, I stepped into the black heels. I had dutifully practiced wearing them, and was starting to get used to the feeling of walking so high off the ground.
By the time the doorbell rang at 6:00, I didn’t feel that a speck of me was Amish. When I met Josh at the front door, his eyes widened and a smile slid up his face. “You look beautiful,” he said. His voice was soft and warm and held a little hint of wonder.
“Thank you,” I said, filled with a sudden shyness. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” In fact, Josh looked very handsome in his gray suit and burgundy tie. His hair looked like he had worked hard to get the right amount of spikiness in it. He reached for my hand and pulled
me forward in a tender way. Then he brushed my lips with a kiss and whispered in my ear, “I can’t wait to show you off.”
We handed each other identical clear boxes. Rachel helped pin the white boutonniere to Josh’s lapel, and I slipped the corsage of pink roses over my wrist.
“You both look gorgeous!” she said, her voice bouncy and energetic. If the whole dance could be like this moment, with each of us looking elegant and feeling happy to be together, then it would be a perfect night.
“Listen,” Rachel said. “I know we’re about to go for pictures, but do you mind if I take a couple before we leave?”
While Rachel went off to get her camera, I swallowed back a sense of unease. This would be the first time that a frozen image of me would exist to mark a time in my life.
For the next few minutes she posed us together, holding the camera down around her chin and peering into it before a clicking sound and a flashing light meant the picture had been taken. I held very still, not wanting to seem nervous, trying to brush aside the stories I had grown up with about graven images and stolen souls. Suddenly Rachel stopped and said, “Oh, Eliza, what am I doing? I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. I guess there’s a first time for everything, right?” Josh was looking at me with surprise. “Just another thing that the Amish don’t do!” I said.
“Really?” he asked. “So I’ve been around for your first phone call, your first movie, and now your first picture? You are some girlfriend.”
He reached out for Rachel’s camera. “Here,” he said. “Take a look at the first picture ever taken of you.” He held the camera up to me. On the small screen I saw myself in my new blue dress, standing next to Josh, our hands clasped together, a smile on my face that was a little anxious but mostly happy. I looked up at him. “Thanks.”
I was glad for that first picture-taking experience because a few minutes later we were at Valerie’s house with a sea of teenagers and parents and cameras. I recognized some faces from the recent party, but everyone looked different now, and I couldn’t readily attach the names.
A World Away Page 23
