by Becky Wicks
‘I don’t have a little mistress, dad, what are you even talking about? And yes, mom gave me the keys!’
‘Does Grace know what you’re doing?’
‘This has nothing to do with Grace, we broke up.’ Conor sounds as furious as me now. ‘And you’d better damn well apologize to Stephanie.’
‘Who?’
The door flings open. I turn around, swiping at the tears that are now streaming down my cheeks. Conor rushes to me, his eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, pulling me against him. I breathe sharply against him for a moment, but there’s no time to talk before he’s walking with me into the kitchen, gripping my hand.
‘Apologize!’ Conor yells at his father. I take in the man standing with his arms folded in the middle of the tiny room. He’s tall, like Conor, with fierce, piercing eyes and a gray beard gripping his face like some kind of fuzzy hand. He consumes the whole space, but not in a good way like my own father did.
‘Conor, it’s OK,’ I start, tugging his hand. I do not want to be dragged into this.
‘No it’s not OK,’ he says. ‘Tell her you’re sorry.’ He’s seething at his father. I can feel him shaking with adrenaline, his hand is hot in mine. His nostrils are flaring as he breathes but every muscle in his body is rigid.
‘We were writing songs,’ I say now. I force my voice to come out normal and not laced in loathing and humiliation. ‘I’m Stephanie, sir. We were supposed to be recording in the studio at Ace, but it got cancelled. We just needed someplace to practice, then the car broke down.’
His father folds his big arms over his big chest in his red flannel shirt and runs his eyes from my face to my feet, undoing me with a look of total disdain. ‘Have you been having sex under my roof?’
His question stuns me. Conor drops my hand, steps in front of me. ‘That’s none of your business,’ he snaps. ‘I’m not a child, dad, and neither is Stephanie!’
‘Abby-May said she saw you in that bed.’
‘Enough!’ Conor yells at him, louder this time. I feel sick as his father looks between us like we’re the scum of the earth. I realize I’m bolted to the floor.
‘Everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart!’ he quotes. ‘Matthew 5:27. Why did you break up with Grace?’
Conor goes to leave the kitchen, holding his hands in the air. ‘I’m not talking about this now.’
‘You are damn well talking about this now!’ his father yells back at him, blocking his exit and squaring up to him. ‘You came out here to my house to purposefully commit your sordid crimes… you’re just like Micah!’
‘Sordid crimes?’ Conor almost laughs. ‘So I’m a criminal now?’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘What did Micah ever do that was so wrong, dad? He fell in love like you and mom! Did you forget what that feels like…’
‘Your mother and I were married! You and Grace are getting married, Conor! Did you forget that fact?’ He jabs a finger in the air, up to the bedroom above us. ‘I can’t even bring myself to go up there. I already know what I’d find…’
‘You’d find nothing. And what part of break up don’t you understand?’ Conor rakes his hands through his wet hair in frustration but his father shoves his shoulder; he’s getting livider by the second.
‘I don’t understand any of it when you’ve both been living in sin since you were eighteen! What’s happening to you? You miss Hearts meetings, you skip out on your shifts and now this? You’re walking a fine line…’
‘Stop it!’ I say now, rushing for Conor as his father shoves him again. I grab his wrist, swing him round to face me. ‘Come on, you don’t need to hear this,’ I say into his eyes. My hand is fisting at my side again, just feeling those mad eyes lasering my back.
‘If a man seduces a virgin who is not pledged to be married and sleeps with her, he must pay the bride-price, and she shall be his wife,’ his father reels off behind us. ‘Exodus 22:16, son, you knew that when you did the deed. And yet you’re doing it again!’
I turn to him in disbelief. The man’s a walking frickin’ Bible in a plaid shirt and jeans. I can see why Conor’s been so terrified, so controlled, if listening to all this started with his brother back when he was just a little kid. He’s practically salivating in front of us now like some kind of rabid pit bull. I pull Conor towards the door and he follows but his father yanks him away from me, stands between us.
‘Listen,’ he hisses. ‘There’s still time. No one needs to know about this. We don’t have to tell the community if you just admit…’
‘This is not some dirty little secret, dad,’ Conor says. ‘You realize I’ve been keeping secrets my whole fucking life, just to please you? My whole life! I’ve been a secret! The real me has been a secret. That community is no good, those are your beliefs, not mine…’
‘It’s your family!’
‘It is not my family. Families don’t bully each other into doing what they really don’t want to do!’
‘And Christian’s don’t change their religion just because they can’t keep their dicks in their pants!’
‘Conor, let’s go,’ I say again, but his father turns to me with anger and unbridled hatred flashing in his eyes.
‘How dare you interrupt us? Do you think I don’t know your kind? Do you think I’ve worked hard all my life just to lose another son to someone like you?’
‘Don’t you fucking dare,’ Conor roars as I back against the door. He shoves him hard away from me, jaw pulsing as I grip the back of his shirt to stop him doing anything he’ll regret. I see the look of animal rage that crosses his father’s face as he balls his fist in front of Conor. For one hideous moment I think he’s about to land a punch on him, but he reels it in and starts talking again.
‘Bring her out and have her burned to death! That’s what Judah said, am I right, son? That’s what Judah said about the prostitute.’
‘I can’t be here,’ I say, turning the door handle and this time Conor doesn’t stop me going outside. He blocks the exit once I’m out.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you and Grace were having problems?’ I hear his father say as I step onto the porch, into the sunshine. I’m about to head for my car, then I remember it won’t start. I want to run a mile but I also don’t want to leave him. For some reason the tarot cards are spread in front of me in my mind’s eye and I remember the warning about the religious group. I feel even sicker. Tal was right.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ his father cries again. His increased volume makes me jump as I walk shakily to the steps.
‘Because I knew you’d react like this!’ Conor replies behind me. ‘You drove all the way out here to yell at me, to insult us by throwing your Bible verses around like you always do…’
‘I drove here to save you from yourself. How long did you think you could pull this off?’
‘Seriously? Dad, if anyone’s trying to pull something off here, it’s you!’ Conor spits. ‘You want me to be with Grace for the sake of the community, to keep up appearances. You know it! You want us together because after everything that happened with Micah it looks bad for you if we’re not. This is all about you!’
‘What the hell are you talking about? I’m not the one disgracing myself, my family name, my church…’
‘Neither am I! I never wanted to be part of that community, dad, not after Micah left! I just went along with it ‘cause I was too young to do anything else! And Grace and I don’t want to be together. I should have told you a long time ago and I’m sorry I didn’t, OK? I’m sorry, but we were both so fucking terrified, from the start…’
‘Terrified? Terrified of what?’
‘Of you! You had me under your thumb with your bribes and your verses, your manipulation…’
‘You’re being ridiculous.’
‘Am I? Look at what you’re doing right now! I’ve seen the way you treat people you think are living in sin! Look
at what you did to Micah!’
His father is quiet for a moment. ‘He did that to himself,’ he says finally, quietly.
‘You drove him away, dad!’ I can hear Conor’s voice breaking and my heart breaks along with it. ‘Don’t you even care how you pushed him to the edge? Don’t you even care he could be dead because of you?’
‘What about the baby?’ his father says through clenched teeth and I close my eyes, stepping further down the porch steps. My own fists are balling and I’m fighting every urge in my body to grab Conor’s hand and pull him out of there, away from this monster. ‘You made a promise to her, Conor. You made a promise to marry that girl, after everything she’s been through, after what you both did...’
‘OK, enough. We’re not doing this,’ Conor seethes. I hear him scrambling for the guitar cases now, shoving things inside, shutting them up. ‘You don’t want to listen to me, fine, but I will not let you ruin this. I will not let you insult me, or Stephanie. We didn’t ask for your opinion, or your permission, or the community’s approval! This is my life, OK? My life. Now help us start the car.’
‘You’ll have nothing if you don’t marry Grace.’
‘I’ll have nothing if I do!’
‘Fret doesn’t have to be in your name anymore.’
‘Then I’ll keep on making music! I’ll make my own name for myself.’
‘You’re dreaming, son.’
‘And you’re an asshole.’
I stand up from the steps quickly as Conor steps outside with both our guitars in his hands. My fists are clenched, my temples are throbbing with pent up anger. ‘Let’s go,’ he says to me as he walks quickly past me and across the wet grass towards my Toyota. His father stands behind me on the porch, fumbling for some keys. My feet start moving back up the steps.
‘You need to let him live his life,’ I blurt before I can even think what I’m doing. My breath comes in sharp bursts as I realize how much I actually detest this man standing like a blazing tower in front of me. He looks at me like I’m garbage on the floor as he pulls his keys out. I step closer. ‘I don’t care what you think of me,’ I say, ‘but I know your son and he is a good man.’
‘He was a good man,’ his father growls. ‘This is all because of you, isn’t it? Like I said, I know your kind. If you know what’s good for you, young lady, you’ll stay away from him while I fix this.’
I clench the strap of my purse hard over my shoulder. ‘You can’t threaten me. You’re nothing but a bully.’
‘I’m a Christian.’
‘Maybe so. But love is love and you can’t stop it any more than you can force it to exist between two people. It doesn’t matter what the Bible says! Can’t you see that? Holy words can breed hate and fear as much as anything else, and you’re going to lose Conor too if you’re not careful.’
‘Who the hell do you think you are?’ The man’s face is so red now as he looms over me that I think he might explode, but I don’t let him finish. I turn around and walk fast towards the car as Bob bounds after me. I can see Conor putting the guitars in the trunk, looking at me. I realize I’m trembling all over. ‘Are you OK?’ he says as I reach him and wrap my arms around his shoulders.
‘I’m fine.’
‘What did he say to you?’
‘More like, what did I say to him.’
His eyes widen and a half-smile crosses his lips as I release him, lean up against the car, shove my hand through my bangs. I shouldn’t have said all that, but screw him. The man’s a sanctimonious asshole and he called me a prostitute! I’ve been called a lot of things since I got off that TV show, but I draw the line at that.
A silver pick-up is parked across the grass and I watch as his father marches over and goes about grabbing some jump leads from the back. Every move he makes is quick and sharp and angry, like a bull figuring out which way and how best to charge. ‘Wait in the car,’ Conor says to me.
‘With pleasure,’ I reply, but before I can get inside he puts his arms either side of me on the car roof.
‘Wait. Jackson, I wish you didn’t have to see that, or hear that, I’m so sorry…’
‘It’s OK. I see why you couldn’t face him.’
‘This is so fucked up,’ he says, lowering his head in front of me. He looks distraught and I reach my hands to his cheeks, force him to look at me.
‘I want to be with you,’ I tell him, more certain of it now than ever. ‘Conor, nothing’s going to change that, OK? What he says or does doesn’t matter. Not to me. Those are his issues, they don’t have to be yours.’
‘You’re so right,’ he says fiercely, kissing my palm and then turning around as his father approaches again with the leads. ‘Not anymore.’
14.
Conor
Two weeks later
‘Let’s take it from the top,’ Michael says from behind the panel as Stephanie adjusts her microphone stand next to me. We’ve been making good progress with our songs. Lyrics have been pouring out of me with and without Stephanie; here at in the studio, back at Ace, in my car, in the shower. Writing has always been the way I’ve processed my emotions and luckily I’ve had enough of them lately to write the equivalent of fifty albums.
Mel’s sitting here behind the glass, nodding encouragingly as we work on perfecting Unprepared between bouts of tapping away on her iPhone. I’m surprised she can’t tell we’re both just as distracted, although I have to admit, Stephanie and I are pretty good showmen when we have to be. We’re pretty good at doing most things together, so far.
Yeah, but what if I fall
So what if you do?
What if I fall for you?
Girl I don’t understand, put your heart in these hands
Are you crazy, I can’t
I promise you can
We’re both a little bit broken
And we’re both a little bit scared
Shall we trust one another to jump into love unprepared…
I turn to Stephanie and smile as we sing in harmony, thinking back to last night at her place, wrapped around each other in her single bed. Even with my feet sticking out the end like some overgrown dwarf in a Disney movie, I’d sleep every night for the rest of my life next to Stephanie Jackson. She’s the only thing that makes sense right now.
Whenever I think about how I’ve walked away from my family, and Fret too, I relive the feeling of holding her in my arms, burying ourselves in each other, making love fast and then slow, savouring every second that the world stops spinning. I know it won’t help me forever, but it’s a start.
Our first time was unforgettable, the first night we got back to Nashville. After a day spent recording (and me ignoring all calls from my furious father) we were both still full of nerves and adrenaline when we snuck past E-beth and Tal in the living room and locked ourselves in her bedroom.
‘Now,’ she said, as soon we were inside, pulling her dress over her head and reaching for my belt buckle. I’d gone to buy condoms on a break from the studio but even as she stood naked in front of me in all her unfathomable perfection, twenty-three and beautiful and willing, I felt like I was about to unwrap some kind of forbidden present. Call it conditioning. Call it some residual memory from past events but I blocked it from my mind and I never said a word. She deserves more and I wanted to give her it. ‘The past is the past,’ she said softly, as if reading my mind. ‘We’re re-writing the story.’
We started slowly, devouring each other with kisses and touching and whispers till I pressed myself inside her and felt her trembling from the inside out on her creaky, stupidly small bed. Whatever we’ve started, we won’t be stopping anytime soon, no matter what the consequences.
She smiles back at me now as she taps her foot on the wooden floor and I start my guitar solo. I haven’t spoken to my father since that morning at the cabin. I still haven’t answered any of his calls because I know he only wants to insult me again. He sent a final text to say that if I know what’s good for me I should never step inside Fre
t again, so I haven’t been back to the store, either. It breaks my heart – I’ve been at Fret pretty much every day since I was fourteen-years-old. I always thought I’d run it someday. It was Micah who wanted it more than me, really, but still, we both grew up thinking it would always be in our lives.
I curb the anger in me for the millionth time. I know my father won’t let me have the life he promised me unless I do what the community and the Pastor are expecting as far as Grace is concerned. They can shove that for starters. I’ve been staying at Stephanie’s place till the dust settles and luckily he doesn’t know where she lives.
‘Nice work, guys,’ Michael says as we wrap the song. We’ve already recorded Time of Our Lives and Dance In The Rain and Mel loves Unprepared, maybe even more than Stars. She thinks it could be a hit and I kind of have a feeling she’s right. The way it just seemed to come to us from out of nowhere as we sang together was kind of weird. We’re going to test it out at the Bluebird for our next slot.
Mel’s opening the studio door now, walking in. The bird-in-a-cage pendant is shining silver round her neck again and her green shiny heels are the highest I’ve ever seen her wearing. ‘I think we’re good,’ she says. ‘Another future cut, I’m sure, thanks guys, you’re killing it.’
‘Any word from Denzel at HotFlush?’ Stephanie asks hopefully, pulling her guitar strap over her head and Mel shakes her head. He’s had Stars for two weeks now and there’s been no news.
‘There are people to meet with, all kinds of hold-ups,’ she says. ‘Don’t worry, these things take time. We don’t put all our eggs in one basket though and neither should you. Are you going to stay and write for a while?’
‘Yup,’ we say at the same time and Mel grins, just as Stephanie and I wince. We can’t seem to stop doing that. We’re more in sync than is probably human with every day that passes.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I switched it to silent while we were recording. ‘Excuse me,’ I tell them as Stephanie puts her guitar back on the stand. I’m surprised at the name flashing on the screen and a bolt of dread inches its way through my organs and turns my throat dry.
