The Truth About Letting Go

by Leigh Talbert Moore

  We sit and Dr. Andrews moves to the front to talk about concerns of the church. Somebody had a baby, somebody went in the hospital. It’s all the same every week. Everyone’s going to pray, and whatever’s going to happen, happens anyway.

  I look over at my mom, and I can tell her thoughts are miles away. He talks for a little longer and then it’s time for another hymn. I bump Mom and tell her I’d better hit the ladies’ room. She frowns, but I slide out. Quickly, while everyone’s still standing, I slip out the door behind where Colt was sitting.

  The back hallway is empty and smells like old library books. I can hear the echoes of the pipe organ as my heels click on the green vinyl tiles. The walls are dark wood paneling, and I have no idea where to start looking for him. I tiptoe down to one room and crack the door. A woman is inside nursing a baby. I jump back, and I don’t think she sees me.

  Back in the hall I press my lips together and look up and down the passage. I’ll never find him, and for all I know, he could’ve gone home. I’m just about to leave, when I turn and there he is, smiling at me from the back by the stairs to the balcony. My heart races, and I rush forward. My body’s humming when I reach him.

  “This way,” he whispers, slipping through a narrow door in the corner.

  I look over my shoulder before following him inside what looks like a broom closet.

  “What is this?” I whisper.

  He grabs my waist and pulls me inside, pushing me up against the wall and kissing me hard. My heart’s flying as my mouth opens, and his tongue is inside just as fast, curling around mine. I grip his shoulders, trying to breathe and keep up with him. A little noise slips from my throat as his fingers slide under my dress, inside my panties. He’s touching me, circles, and I’m trying to stop my head from spinning. Heavy petting in church should not make me feel guilty. I don’t believe in church, and what he’s doing feels really good. I’m leaning into it when he suddenly pulls away.

  “You’re so hot,” he whispers against my neck.

  It’s true. My whole body is on fire. “So are you,” I pant.

  He kisses me again but pulls back just as fast, leaving me with my eyes closed and my mouth open.

  “New prank. Spike the communion juice,” He holds up the familiar white, plastic flask. “It’ll be like a miracle. Turning grape juice into wine.”

  I close my mouth and blink, trying to recover, to keep up with him. “What?”

  “Swiped it on the way in this morning,” he continues. “Dad never misses his hooch.”

  “But that’s kind of like…” I almost say a major sin, but I stop myself. So what? I’m not a believer anymore. Why should I think doing it would be very wrong?

  “Like what?” he says, studying my face.

  “It’s like the same prank all over again.”

  Then he laughs, “So I’m not creative enough for you?”

  “I just don’t think it's a good idea.”

  He grabs my hips and pulls them hard against his. “Why not? Scared?”

  “What if somebody’s sick… or an alcoholic or something?”

  “They shouldn’t be in church.” He starts to leave the closet, but I pull him back.

  “Let’s think of something else.”

  I consider putting his hand back under my dress, wondering which is worse, tampering with the sacraments or near-sex in church. At least the second option only hits me. I can handle that.

  “Just go back to your seat and leave it to me.”

  He’s gone, and I watch as he saunters away down the hall in the direction of the pastor’s office. I straighten my dress and cautiously step out of the closet. I need to go to the bathroom and clean up, but I’ve been gone too long already. Mom will come looking for me, and then we’ll be caught.

  Colt disappears around the corner, and I wonder if he’ll go through with it. Fear is pressing on me as I tiptoe to the back door and slowly open it. I sit in the back and Mom catches my eye before turning her attention to the front again.

  Dr. Andrews is talking about finding the good. At first I think it’s one of those typical “your life sucks, but if you can find one tiny good thing to focus on, it’s not so bad” sermons. Like finding your wallet makes up for dying of cancer. But he keeps talking, and I realize it’s about actions, finding good things to do for others. And doing them. He references that Mother Teresa speech about how when things go wrong or people are hurtful, do good anyway. It’s pretty, but I’m not buying it. Nothing makes the pain go away. Well, almost nothing.

  Finally, he closes his book, and it’s time to go. In the past, his daughter Harley would stand up and sing the Doxology, but when she left for college, they started a new tradition where we all stand and sing it together. We probably should’ve done that all along, but it’s not my business.

  The service ends, and I’m two steps out the door when I hear my name. I can’t be in trouble. If Colt really did mess with the sacraments, they’ll find out at the special communion service in the chapel later this evening. Either way, I won’t be involved.

  “Ashley!” It’s the pastor’s wife, Mrs. Andrews, calling me, and I almost don’t turn around. Then I see Jordan watching me from the parking lot, and I decide I’d rather face Harley’s mom.

  “Hi, Mrs. Andrews,” I say, turning to her.

  She’s in a filmy, bohemian-style dress, and her long, straight dark hair falls over one shoulder. She’s beautiful in a Native American kind of way, like Pocahontas or something, and when she hugs me, I’m surrounded by the clean, earthy scent of her perfume.

  “You’ve been on my mind so much this week,” she says in her soothing voice. “Are you getting readjusted to school?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Her sympathetic tone is tempting that part of me that always wants to break down and scream-cry. But I’ve got that part tied up tight and pushed way down, and I’m not letting her out. Especially not here on the church lawn in front of God and everyone in Shadow Falls.

  “Times like these are overwhelming,” she continues. “I want you to know you’re not alone.”

  “Thank you,” I say again.

  I hope by not engaging with her, she’ll give up and let me go. Then I hope when I turn around, Jordan will be gone, too. I should know by now hope is not on my side. She keeps speaking, worse and worse.

  “Your dad always had such great insights in his columns. I’m sure you know we often shared ideas on organics and homeopathic remedies. I miss him very much.”

  I wish she would stop talking. My ribcage feels like a steel band tightening harder and harder over my lungs with every word she says.

  “It doesn’t seem fair. But we can be thankful God gave us happy memories.” She touches my cheek. “And your pretty face to help us remember him.”

  I imagine myself screaming in her pretty face when my mom finally walks up.

  “Jackie,” she says, and the two women turn toward each other.

  They start talking, and I start walking as fast as I can away from these people and this church and that lawn and everything about it that makes them smile and say stupid things and touch people. My eyes are so hot, I can’t even see where I’m going, but I walk as fast as I can down the sidewalk. I know I’m headed in the direction of my house, and that’s all that matters. I’m about to break into a run when a hand catches my arm. I’m gently pulled to a stop, and I sniff, looking up.

  “Thought you didn’t believe in church anymore,” Jordan says.

  “I don’t,” I say, blinking fast and not meeting his eyes. “Mom forced me to come.”

  He releases my arm, and I start walking toward my house again. But he’s still with me. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you in the service.”

  “Sorry." I clear the thickness in my throat. "Another strike against me, I guess.”

  “You think I’ve forgotten how you used to be, at school and stuff. You’re just pretending to be so tough and risky. I know the truth.”

  I stop
and glare at him. “What?”

  “Guys talk. And you’ve never had a steady boyfriend. You were trying to push me away Friday. Why?”

  “I’m saving myself for a non-virgin.”

  He reaches out and catches my hand. “C’mon, Ashley. Why won’t you date me?”

  Why is he doing this? It was hard enough on Friday, and now I'm having to do it all again. “Because I’m not into you, Jordan. Is that so hard to believe?”

  “Not at all. I can’t believe we made out twice, and I bet every guy at school dreams of you sticking your hand in his pants. But when we kissed, I felt something more, and you’re lying.”

  I pull my hand away and start walking again. “I’m not. That’s who I am now. And rules are for losers.”

  “Okay. What have you done that’s so wrong?”

  “Is that a challenge?”

  “No. It’s me saying I want to help you. Let me help you get through this.”

  My arms cross over the pain in my stomach. For half a second, I imagine turning into him and letting him wrap his warm arms around me and hold me until it doesn’t hurt anymore. But I don’t. I think of being in the closet with Colt, and his hands under my dress.

  “You don’t know anything.”

  “Wait,” he catches my arm again, and I stop. “I care about you, right? And I’m not trying to hurt you when I say this." He pauses. "You’re not the first kid to lose a parent.”

  My jaw tightens. “What’s your point, Jordan?”

  “I’m just saying. People die. It happens, and we can’t explain it or change it. And pushing people away and doing bad things only hurts you.”

  My eyes flash at him. “Well, guess what?”

  “What?”

  “I think you picked the right vocation. You say the same stupid things Mrs. Andrews does. And you suck at it just as bad.”

  I try to turn, but he holds me fast. His teeth are clenched. “Why are you doing this? You’re smart and beautiful and funny. Everybody wants to help you…”

  “Nobody can help me. Nobody can change what happened. Now leave me alone!”

  I jerk my arm and take off running hard. I was close to crying again, and I am not doing that. They are not going to win. I will not break down. Not anymore. It only makes people think I’m weak, and it makes them want to help me. And they can’t.

  I want this tightness to go away, this stupid pain in my chest. I want to breathe without fighting for air. And I’ve figured out how to make that happen. I’ve got to find Colt.

  Chapter 9

  Colt is waiting for me at my locker the next morning with that same grin on his face. I didn’t see him after church, and I’m afraid to ask what happened. But I didn’t hear any reports of a boozy communion service.

  “Have I told you how sexy you are?” he asks as I walk up. I’m not used to guys talking to me like that, and I don’t know how to answer.

  I stop at my locker and turn the dial. He leans in and kisses my neck. Sparks shoot down to my toes, and my breath catches.

  “H-How did you get my number?” I ask, barely above a whisper.

  “Mandy was texting you Friday night.” He looks straight into my eyes, and I know he knows exactly what those texts said. My cheeks are blazing.

  “I… I didn’t know you knew…”

  His hand is on my waist, and I feel his thumb circling at my ribs. “Let’s sneak out of here and finish what we started at church.”

  Jordan’s at his locker watching us, and I’d give anything for him to be absent today.

  “Can’t,” I say, wishing my voice didn’t sound so nervous. “Quiz in chemistry.”

  “Fu—udge in chemistry? Not fair.”

  We both smile as Mr. Perkins walks past. He does not smile, and I’m pretty sure he knew fudge wasn’t the topic of conversation.

  “I’m surprised,” I say, staring into my locker. Colt’s hand fumbles to the bottom of my shirt, and his finger slips under it, touching my bare skin. I almost forget what I’m doing.

  “What surprises you, sexy?”

  “I wouldn’t think you’d back down from swearing in front of teachers.”

  “If I’m getting detention, it’ll be for something good.” He leans forward and speaks right in my ear, his hot breath melting my knees. “Like screwing in the faculty bathroom.”

  Jordan stands up and pushes Colt back. I almost drop my books. “Back off, jerk.”

  “What the hell?” Colt laughs, but I jump between them.

  “Jordan? What are you doing?”

  He leans into me, “Make that asshole leave you alone.”

  “What? Did you just curse—?”

  Colt's hand grips Jordan’s shoulder, and he’s ripped away from me and slammed into the lockers. Colt’s still smiling, but I see he’s ready to punch Jordan in the face. Jordan drops his books, and out of nowhere, Coach Taylor and Mrs. Green appear.

  “Knock it off, testosterone,” Coach Taylor barks grabbing Colt by the shoulder. “Jordan, Pick up those books and get to class.”

  “Lockett, are you responsible for this?” My eyes go wide. “No, coach. I mean, I don’t think—”

  “Can it and get to class.”

  I blink in disbelief. Then I realize she isn’t letting me off the hook. Coach Taylor doesn’t give a crap about my mental state. The rule is No fighting in the halls. I like it.

  “Yes, ma’am.” I slam my locker and turn to go. Colt’s right with me.

  “I didn’t expect the geek to go all jealous ex-boyfriend.”

  I look back and see Jordan still leaning against our lockers watching me. He’s frowning, and I turn away quickly.

  “I’ve never seen him act like that,” I say.

  “It’s because you’re crazy in the sack, I’m sure.”

  I do a double-take. “What?”

  “Cut class with me. Under the bleachers, ten minutes.”

  My head’s spinning from what just happened and trying to keep up with my partner in crime. “Next hour, okay?”

  I’m stalling. I have no idea if I’m ready to break the seal with him or not. I mean, I am ready. I don’t believe in waiting anymore. It’s just so sudden, and I’m not prepared. I also don’t believe in becoming a statistic.

  He grins. “But I have chemistry next hour.”

  “Then you’d better study. Now you know about the pop quiz.”

  “Studying’s for middle class white kids.”

  “Nice. I guess that means I’d better hit the books.”

  “You are not middle class, Lady Ashley.”

  We’re at chemistry, so I step back and kiss him on the cheek. He catches me and pushes me against the wall, kissing me for real, mouths open, tongues entwined. My whole body bursts into flame. He pulls back, and I almost slide down into a puddle.

  “Still no?” he says.

  I blink and try to answer. The best I’ve got is shaking my head, but I can’t tell if I’m saying no or yes.

  “Sexy nerd,” he says. “I’m picking you up tonight at eleven.”

  “Tonight? Wait… I won’t see you at lunch?”

  “Nah, I’m taking off.”

  The halls are empty and Mr. Perkins is shutting the classroom door. I don’t have time to ask more questions or even watch him walk away before I push through the entrance and dash to my seat.

  * * *

  Mandy’s doing her best to act like she’s not ready to kill me at lunch. I almost wish she would. Apparently the whole school knows about the almost-fight between Jordan and Colt and my subsequent lip-lock outside of chemistry.

  “I can’t believe you were making out with him in the hall.” Her voice is low and controlled. “In front of everyone like we’re not even friends.”

  I stab my salad. I’m not hungry. I glance at her quickly and wonder how my life would change if my friendship with Mandy was another fatality of my new persona. Do I want to lose her friendship? No.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “He just sort of grabbed me, and I
didn’t have time to think. It was a total surprise.”

  A hot surprise, I don’t add.

  “You’re so ungrateful. And just… a bad friend. There. I said it. I’m sorry your dad died, but I stood by you all these months you’ve been weird. And this is what I get.” She takes a big stab of salad and shoves it into her mouth.

  “I helped you get a date with him to the luau, didn’t I?”

  “Oh, sure. Rub it in that he still picked you.”

  I let out a deep breath. “I don’t know what to say, Mandy.”

  So many thoughts are twisted up in my head, but I’m not giving up Colt. Not now. Being with him is like being on that rollercoaster. It’s crazy and unpredictable, and the last thing I want to do when I’m with him is mourn my dad. At the same time, that fills me with guilt, like a betrayal. I remember my fears of forgetting him, and I think about the last week I spent with Jordan planning the news story and talking about his life. I glance over at Charlotte’s beefy clique. Of course, she’s not looking at me.

  Amber joins us, and I’m hopeful for a change in the conversation. “Hey, Mandy. Hey, Hot Lips.”

  I shake my head.

  “Did you hear?” she gushes leaning forward over her salad. “Trevor Martin’s on sudden-death expulsion watch.”

  Mandy stabs at her plate, and her nose curls. “What does that even mean?”

  “It means one more infraction and he’s gone. Reform school.”

  I press my mouth closed and study my plate. I’m not supposed to care about the fallout of my actions anymore. Why is guilt so hard to switch off?

  “Who’s doing the watch?” I say.

  “Patty’s taken direct charge of the situation.”