by Jack Weyland
“And you want to escape this. Is that what you’re saying?”
It was hard to admit such a thing, but I said, “That’s why I came here. I want to quit and never do it again.”
“Good for you, Adam.”
He smiled at me. “I can see you’re uncomfortable, but I want you to take a deep breath and relax. You took the biggest step when you admitted you have a problem. What we need to do now is work together to solve it. Are you up to that?”
I was afraid he was going to ask me to tell him about all the things I had seen, but I nodded my head.
“If you knew this was wrong after the first time, why did you go back?”
I had never felt more embarrassed than I did at that moment. “It was like I couldn’t resist it.”
“That’s because pornography is addictive.”
“I know that now.”
“One of the strongest desires our Heavenly Father has given us is the drive to reproduce. If it weren’t for that, the human race might have died out long ago. That yearning to have a mate is God-given and sacred and nothing shameful.”
He continued. “What is sad is that the world sees sex only as something to be used recreationally and irresponsibly. With their pictures and movies, pornographers make something dirty out of something that is sacred and precious. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I nodded.
“When a man becomes addicted to pornography, he has a difficult time relating, in a proper way, to women. He sees them as objects of lust, not as precious daughters of God.”
I sighed. “I know.” I told him about shooting baskets with Sierra and Kierra, and how inappropriate thoughts had gotten in the way of the innocent fun we were having, so much so that I had to get away from them.
“Then you know what I’m talking about. And the truth is, if you don’t control this, it will take over your life.” He paused, and then repeated, “It will take over your life. It will also make finding a wife very difficult. And if you do marry and continue to feed your addiction, then there’s a very real chance you can kiss your marriage good-bye. It might take a few years for your wife to find out, but when she does, she may even agree to work with you for a while, but, if you can’t stop this activity, she’ll lose respect for you and eventually seek a divorce. And when she leaves you, she’ll take your kids, and you’ll be left all alone with only a computer screen at night to keep you company. Is that what you want?”
“No, it isn’t. I want a wife who will be able to trust me, and kids who will always be able to count on me.”
“Then you know what you have to do.”
“I do. And I will.”
“Good for you. There’s a scripture I’d like you to consider.” He turned to Alma, chapter 22, verse 18, and had me read, “ . . . if there is a God, and if thou art God, wilt thou make thyself known unto me, and I will give away all my sins to know thee, and that I may be raised from the dead, and be saved at the last day.”
“Do you know who said this?” he asked.
“The father of King Lamoni,” I said.
“That’s right. How do you suppose this king was able to give away all his sins?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve never thought about it.”
“Well, suppose he had dancing girls that performed at special dinners. What would he do?”
“Tell them he didn’t need them anymore.”
“That’s right. That’s how we overcome temptation. We remove the situations that lead to us being tempted.”
“I’m moving to New Jersey to work for my grandfather. One of the reasons I’m going is to get away from the computer. And I’m leaving mine at home. I’ve already boxed it up and stored it in the garage. So I won’t be using the Internet at all anymore.”
“What else will you need to do? What about watching TV late at night? What about renting inappropriate movies?”
“I’ll stop watching TV and quit renting movies.”
“Can you do that?”
I nodded. “I have to do it. I can’t go back to any of this ever again.”
“I’m happy you see what you have to do.”
He assigned me to report to my new bishop and let him help me. And we had prayer together.
When I shook his hand and left his office, I felt much better. I felt like I could succeed, and that God would help me.
On my way home, I thought about “giving my sins away.” The changes I needed to make were not just superficial, and not just for a week or two. I didn’t trust me anymore. To make sure I stayed away from pornography, I knew I would have to sacrifice, and that would mean not renting videos, not watching TV alone late at night, and not using the Internet. I felt that I could do it; I just didn’t know what I would do to fill the vacuum.
My dad and I went shopping for a used car. After a day of looking, we settled on a two-year-old Mercury Sable. He paid for it, and I agreed to pay him back.
At eight-thirty in the morning of Monday, June 3, I was packed and ready to go. My dad and Lara were hanging around the place to see me off.
Lara had gotten up early and baked me some blueberry muffins to take with me. She offered to cook me a big breakfast, but I told her I’d just have some cereal.
I made a few last-minute trips to the car and then went into the kitchen. Lara was cleaning up.
“Well, I guess I’m ready to go.”
She was working at the sink and didn’t turn around to look at me. “You’ll call us tonight for sure, won’t you?”
“I’m sorry for . . . feeling like I have to leave.”
She turned toward me, and I could see tears in her eyes. “I understand why you want to learn about your first mom. As you work this out in your mind, Adam, please remember that I love you. I will always love you.”
“I am sorry—”
“I know. It’s okay.”
The distance between us seemed like a million miles. I couldn’t just give her a half-hearted wave and walk out.
“Is it okay if we hug?” I asked.
“Is it okay? Of course it’s okay! It’s what I want most of all.”
We hugged for a long time and then it was time for me to go.
I went outside. My dad was trying to repack the trunk. When he saw me walking out to the driveway with my arm around Lara’s shoulder, he gave up and slammed the trunk shut.
“It’ll probably settle out during the trip,” he said.
My dad and I faced each other.
“I got on a map Web site and printed you out the best route,” he said. “It’s on the front seat.”
“Thanks.”
We shook hands, then he pulled me into a hug.
“Be good,” he whispered.
“I will, Dad. I promise.”
“I know you will.”
I got into the car, waved, and pulled out of the driveway on my way to New Jersey. True to my word, I left my computer at home. I felt as though I could do what the bishop had counseled me. Now the only thing left was to find out who I really was.
6
Wednesday, June 5
It was midnight when I pulled into the driveway of my grandparents’ house in Madison, New Jersey. I was exhausted from having driven from Utah in three days.
The lights were on inside the house, but I didn’t think my grandparents would be up this late. The night before, when we had talked on the phone, they had said they’d leave the door unlocked and the lights on, so I could get in no matter how late I arrived.
I grabbed a backpack and started for the door, deciding to unpack the rest of my stuff in the morning. I just wanted to get some sleep.
Inside the house, I’d only taken a few steps when my grandmother called from the living room, “Adam, is that you?” I looked in. She was sitting in a rocking chair with a quilt draped over her shoulders.
“You’re up? You didn’t need to stay up for me,” I said. She stood up. We met in the middle of the room and gave each other a big hug.
> “I was so excited I couldn’t sleep. I’m so glad you made it here safely.”
“Yeah, me too. It’s great to be here.”
“Let me show you to your room.”
I followed her up the stairs. “We’re so glad you’re going to be with us for a while,” she said. “Eddie has so many things he wants to do with you while you’re here. Have you ever gone deep-sea fishing?”
“No, sounds interesting though.”
“He wants to take you to a Metropolitan Opera concert in Central Park. I told him if you had any idea all the plans he has for you, you’d get right back in your car and drive home to Utah. Going here, doing that—but you know how he is.”
We went upstairs and stopped at the first bedroom we came to. “We’d better tell him you’re here. If we don’t, he’ll be after me all morning to go wake you up.”
She opened the door. “Eddie, Adam’s here. Do you want to say hello to him?”
The dark lump in the bed moved slightly. “What?”
“Adam’s here.”
He fought the covers to get out of bed. “Just a minute, I’m a little slow when I first wake up.”
She laughed. “You’re a little slow even after you wake up.”
“I have my good days too.” He stood up and cleared his throat and came toward me. “Adam, you’re here! Did you have any trouble on the road?”
“No, everything went well.” I braced myself as he threw his arms around me.
“I can’t tell you how happy we are that you’re here.”
“Is it okay if I start work about noon tomorrow? I need to get some sleep.”
“I wouldn’t dream of having you start tomorrow. You need to rest up from your trip,” he said.
“I’m okay. I could start tomorrow after lunch.”
“We’ll see. The important thing is you’re here. How was the traffic?”
“Eddie, the poor boy needs some sleep. You can talk in the morning.”
He said goodnight, and my grandmother and I continued on our way. We stopped at the bathroom, and she pointed out the towels I was to use. At the end of the hall, she turned on the light and welcomed me in.
“This was your mom’s room when she was growing up. We got rid of most of her clothes years ago. I keep her scrapbooks here on the shelf and some of her artwork and a few other things in the closet that I just couldn’t bear to throw away. And, of course, her harp.”
The harp wasn’t one of the huge kind but smaller, to fit a young girl.
“Your mother would not be pleased to know that of the few of her things we could have kept, we ending up keeping the harp.”
She showed me the closet. It was empty except for some blankets on an upper shelf and some boxes and paintings in the corner. “Oh, your mom called last night. You forgot a few things. She’s going to send you a package in a couple of days, so if you can think of anything else you need, let her know.”
“Okay.”
“How does she feel about you coming out here?”
“I think she’s disappointed, but I think she understands I want to know as much as I can about my . . .” I sighed. “What do I call her? My real mom? And what do I call my mom now? My stepmother?”
My grandmother thought about it for a while. “Stepmother sounds like it’s from Cinderella.”
“Oh, yeah, the wicked stepmother, right?”
She nodded. “Both your moms have loved you, with all their hearts.”
“I know.”
“What if you called them your first mom and your second mom?”
“Okay. I can do that.”
“What does your dad think about you coming out here?” she asked.
“I think he understands. He told me that my . . . first mom . . . when she was getting worse, he saw her trying to get me to say mama, and I wouldn’t do it, and she started crying. My dad said the one thing my first mom feared was that I wouldn’t remember her. And I didn’t. But now, while I’m here, I’ll find out everything I can about her. I think I owe her that.”
“Do you think that maybe she knows about you being with us for a while?”
I nodded my head. “I’ve been thinking about that all the way out here. I hope she knows.”
She looked at the clock. “Well, we’ll have plenty of time to talk tomorrow. Right now you need to go to bed and get some sleep. Good night, Adam.”
“Good night.”
I slept until eleven in the morning. When I woke up, the house was quiet. I shaved, took a shower, dressed, and then went downstairs.
“About time you got up,” my grandfather teased as I entered the kitchen. He threw his arm across my shoulders. “It’s so good to see you.”
They fussed over breakfast for me. They’d already eaten, but my grandmother cooked waffles and an omelet for me. It was more than I usually ate for breakfast, but they were so happy I was there and wanted to make my stay as nice as possible, I couldn’t turn them down.
The next day I started working with my grandfather. He owned and managed three apartment buildings. My job was to help him do repair work. I liked the work and was glad to be learning skills that would come in handy when I had a home of my own.
On Saturday, after seeing the harp in my room morning and night, I decided to find out how to play it. I went to a music store and bought a basic book, and every night after work I practiced. When my grandparents realized what I was doing, they insisted I put the harp downstairs in the living room so they could listen while I played.
My brief problem with inappropriate Internet viewing went away now that I was staying with my grandparents. For one thing, I didn’t have access to the Internet. My grandfather did have a computer with Internet access, but that was in his office in the garage, and I didn’t go in there. My grandparents only watched home decorating shows or the History Channel. Occasionally I’d watch with them after dinner, but not more than a few minutes. And then I’d run for an hour, come home, take a shower, and then read the scriptures until I went to bed. That schedule made it easy for me to avoid any problems.
A few days later, just after getting home from work, I was practicing on the harp when I heard the doorbell ring. My grandmother answered it while I continued playing.
A minute later my grandmother and Brianna Doneau entered the room.
“Adam, you remember Sister Doneau, don’t you?”
My jaw dropped and then I gave a lukewarm smile through gritted teeth. “Of course, how could I forget Sister Doneau?”
“You can call me Brianna now,” she said, smiling.
“Yes, I suppose I could do that.”
I hated to admit it, but she looked amazingly good. Her brown hair was cut in some kind of “young professional” look, and she was wearing a dark blue business suit that was probably very much in fashion. She seemed more relaxed than she had been as a missionary. Of course she’d never been relaxed around me on her mission, so maybe that wasn’t an accurate assessment.
She wasn’t wearing wire-rim glasses anymore. She’d finally joined the rest of the civilized world and gotten contacts. It gave me a better look at her eyes. I still found her combination of blue eyes and brown hair fascinating. Not that she could take any credit. I mean, let’s face it, it was all in the genes. Still though, I found it hard not to stare at her.
“Adam, play one of your songs for Brianna.”
I had only been trying to play the harp for a few days, teaching myself some simple melodies out of a beginner’s book. The last thing I wanted to do was risk Doneau ridiculing me. “No, I’m done practicing.”
“Please, just one song,” my grandmother asked.
“Oh, I’d love to hear you play,” Doneau said. I couldn’t tell if she was serious or was mocking me. I was embarrassed to do it, but I played her one song.
“Wasn’t that lovely?” my grandmother asked.
“Yes, it was, it was just lovely,” Doneau said in a syrupy voice. Now it was clear, she was mocking me.
“Let me
go get Eddie,” my grandmother said. “He’s in the backyard. I know he’ll be thrilled to see you.”
As soon as my grandmother was gone, I went on the attack. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d drop in.”
“What do you mean, you were in the neighborhood? You don’t live around here, do you?”
“Actually, I do. After my mission, your grandfather introduced me to a friend of his who has a law firm and was looking to expand. We hit it off well, and he offered me a position. It’s a perfect situation for me with lots of opportunity. So I work and live in Newark, not far from here. Are you just visiting?”
Once again Doneau had everything going her way—a big-time job, and continuing access to my grandparents.
“No, I’ll be here for the summer, working for my grandfather,” I said.
“Well, we’ll probably see each other then. Do you wish I hadn’t come by to see your grandparents?”
I shrugged. “It’s a free country.”
“I love your grandparents and they love me, so that means I’ll keep coming. I suggest you learn to deal with it.”
“That’s what I’ve learned to do when it comes to you,” I said.
“If you want, in the future I’ll call ahead and let you know I’m coming. That way you can go in the backyard and sulk until I leave. But for now, can you play me another of your lovely harp songs?”
“Let’s get one thing straight, okay? I’m not a harp player.”
“Gosh, you don’t need to tell me that because I’ve heard you play. But, hey, if that’s your thing, who am I to object?”
“For your information, the harp belonged to my mother. She took harp lessons when she was in junior high and then quit. It’s been in her room since then. I’m learning to play it because I was hoping it would make me feel more connected to her.”
Brianna sighed. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
My grandparents came inside. My grandfather waved some tomatoes in our face. “We’ve got tomatoes!”
“I’ve called the New York Times!” my grandmother teased. “They should be here any minute.”
