by M. Mabie
I tugged the charger from the wall and told Ted as I walked past, “I’ll be in my room.”
“You don’t want to see him?” Chris asked.
I did want to see him. I wanted to press myself against his chest and stay there forever. But he didn’t want me.
He hadn’t wanted a wife when he stood up for me at the Legacy meeting.
He’d just felt sorry for me.
Abraham didn’t want to be my band holder or my husband, at least not the way I’d thought he did. Not the way I’d hoped he would.
The Griers had told me what they claimed was the truth. He’d only done what he had because I was in a bad situation and needed help escaping a cult.
Nothing made sense. Nothing fit.
So until I could sort it out, I wasn’t ready to see him.
Because what I’d felt was real.
The way he touched me had been real.
The things he’d told me sounded real.
But so had everything else in life.
I made it to the spare room before he was out of the cab, and I watched him through a crack between the curtain and the window as I sat on the bed.
He’d never been what I’d pictured for a husband. The hair. The whiskers. The free-thinking attitude toward worldly things. The lack of church and structure. Yet, he’d seemed good and kind and helpful.
Was that all pretend too?
I pushed the prongs into the outlet and when the phone had enough juice, I turned it on, trying to distract myself from the man who just arrived.
Was he eating with us? Had he been invited?
Ashely ordered a lot. There was no way for me to know if some of it was for Abraham or not.
Nine messages.
Five voicemails.
ABE: Where are you? Did you need something? I’ll wait for you here at Chris and Ashley’s.
ABE: Are you okay? Please answer. I’m worried about you.
ABE: I don’t know what’s going on. Please call me. I’m going home.
ABE: It’s late and I don’t know where you are. Are you coming back? Do you just need time alone? If you overheard something that upset you, I hope you’ll let me explain. There’s a little money in the glove box, if you need it.
ABE: I’m going crazy. I need to know you’re all right. Please reply.
ABE: No one knows where you are. I’ve called my father and your brother. You don’t have to say anything, just reply that you’re okay. Please.
ABE: I’ve lived in this cabin for years and it’s never felt this lonely. I’m losing it here, scared you’re hurt or worse. I’m begging. Tell me you’re safe.
ABE: Maybe my father is lying to me. Maybe you did go back there. Maybe you’re with Matthew. I don’t know, but I’m going insane waiting. It would kill me if anything happened to you. If you’re mad at me, call and scream. Let me explain. Let me apologize. This silence is too much. I need you.
I need you.
I read that part over and over.
He needed me?
How was that true? How could I be expected to believe that?
My thumb slid up the screen to the last message he’d sent, dated the night before.
ABE: Thank God you’re at the Griers’. I’ve been worried sick, but you’re safe and that’s what matters most. I hate that you don’t want to come home. I hate that you don’t want to talk to me or answer the phone, but I won’t give up. There’s so much I need to tell you, that I should have told you long before now. I have no clue what you’re feeling or thinking. Just know I’m sorry. I was doing what I thought was right. I never wanted to hurt you or upset you. Myra, I’d do anything to go back and do some things differently, but I can’t. All I can do is tell you I’ll do better, if you’d only talk to me.
A hot tear ran down my cheek and dropped off my chin.
The text messages had been a lot to take in, and I wasn’t ready to listen to his voicemails. Mostly, I wasn’t sure if I could keep myself from running to the door where he was standing on their porch.
The need to pray was so strong inside me, but I didn’t do that either.
5
Abe
“Will you please just tell her I’m here?” I’d expected their resistance, but I couldn’t sit around waiting.
Ted’s arm propped his large body up in the doorway. A barrier.
“Myra knows you’re here, son. She’s not ready to see you.” His tone was understanding, but firm. “She wants space.”
“She can have all the space she wants. I just want to talk.”
“It’s not a good time.”
“It’s the perfect time. I owe her an apology. An explanation.” I wasn’t mad, just frustrated, but I couldn’t keep it out my voice as it rose. “You don’t think she deserves that now?”
Dori snuck under Ted's arm, and I stepped back to give her room. “Just allow her some time.”
I pushed my hair back and looked at my boots, the ones she’d cleaned were now scuffed and dusty again. “It’s been four days. I’m going nuts, and I don’t know what I can do.”
She craned her neck and caught my eyes with hers. “Honey, be patient. That’s what you do. You think. You do your work. You figure out what you want, and you wait.”
Waiting sounded like quitting. I wasn’t giving up.
Her hand reached out to me and gave my forearm a gentle squeeze. “She’s fine.”
Hot breath left my nose and my impulse was to run them over. To storm their pre-fab castle, to get to her, throw my girl over my shoulder and take her home—where she belonged.
But that was selfish, and I had no right to do any of it.
Consequentially, every single thing about walking to my truck felt opposite and wrong too.
It’s not like I wanted to feel like I did. I hated the monster inside me that wanted to burn the world down to satisfy my needs, but there wasn’t a thing I could do to quiet the beast. I may never know why, but the animal inside me wanted Myra as bad as I wanted to be the moral man she needed.
She didn’t want to see me? Fine.
Wasn’t ready to answer the phone? Okay.
I wasn’t surrendering. This was too important.
My truck flew out of the drive and I ripped down the road back to the cabin.
It wasn’t how I wanted to do things, but my best-case scenario hadn’t happened. She wasn’t beside me.
But I had another plan.
Right where she left it, her leather-bound Bible sat beside the bed. I’d never touched it. The book was her safe place, her refuge. Although I wanted to be that and so much more for her, the Word was where she found her peace.
In the kitchen, I ransacked every drawer for a pen that would write. How was it possible to have dozens of writing utensils and none of them worked?
I was no poet or writer. No John Keats. No E.E. Cummings. No Sylvia Plath. But I had a message to give her and wanted it to mean something, wanted my intentions obvious. Funny how so many thoughts and words had swarmed my head the past few days, and when pen met paper few came out.
I hoped they were enough.
6
Myra
Ted was right. Chinese food was delicious, and dinner with the Griers was an experience like none I’d ever had. They were loud and swore often and acted rude to each other, but then they’d laugh and act like it didn’t bother them at all. I would have never dreamt of speaking to my father like Ashley spoke to hers, but then again Ted wasn’t anything like my father—or at least how my father was before he wasn’t himself anymore.
Ted didn’t care what his family wore. In fact, he preferred that they wore less and were less modest, which didn’t really make sense to me.
I’d been shopping with Dori twice already, and although I felt strange letting her choose things for me, they were gifts and I didn’t want to seem ungrateful. She’d picked jeans and a few fitted shirts, but I was glad she didn’t buy any of the skimpy ones. Some of those didn’t have sleeves at all and their neckl
ines practically swooped as low as my bra would.
I wasn’t naïve. She was trying to make me look worldlier. She called it normal, but it didn’t feel that way.
“It’ll take some getting used to, honey. You don’t know any better,” she’d told me on the ride home from the mall that afternoon. “You wear whatever you want, but this will just give you a few new options. You’ll figure it out.”
I wasn’t sure if I’d figured much out, but it had given me the urge to look at other styles and trends on Pinterest which I’d searched to get my mind off things before our food arrived. There were looks I was sure I’d never be comfortable wearing in public, but I found others I really liked that appeared stylish. It was still summer, and if I could just make it through without feeling like I was naked every day, I would look forward to fall.
I studied what Ashley was wearing as we all finished our Chinese food that evening. Her tummy was popping out and like the last few times I’d been around her, she was wearing a dress. I wondered if that was her style or if she wore them because Chris liked them. Then again, I wasn’t sure how comfortable pants would be while carrying a baby and it was pretty hot out. Maybe she was simply more comfortable in the baby doll-like sundresses she wore.
“Have you thought any more about getting a job, Myra?” Ted asked. “Or even what you might like doing? Maybe working on your GED? Taking some classes?”
Every time I thought about it, I felt more nervous. I’d never considered a job outside of my home before. Never even considered going to school again.
According to them, since Abe didn’t think of our marriage as real, I’d need to think about the ways I was going to support myself. That no one was going to take care of me, and eventually I’d only have me to rely on.
Honestly, it sounded impossible and so depressing.
The thought of going back to Lancaster flashed through my mind again. Or maybe I’d visit Matthew in Newmecula. At least there, not many people would know about me. Even if the things Dori and Ted had told me were true, it was also all I knew.
How was I to be sure who was right and wrong? Apparently, everyone I’d ever known had lied or made mistakes. No one was better than anyone else.
Plus, I didn’t have any notable skills when it came to working. I wasn’t sure if I had anything to offer an employer. I was just a homemaker without a home.
“I’m not sure what I’d like to do yet, Mr. Grier. It’s such a big decision.”
He wiped his mouth and pushed the empty container away from him on the coffee table he’d eaten at. “It is, and you have some time—we’re happy to help you here for a while until you find your footing—but you’ve got a lot of opportunity now. The sooner you find something to work toward for yourself, the sooner you’ll get some wind in your sail. There isn’t anything like cashing that first check and having something that’s all your own. It changes a person.” He tapped a cigarette out of the pack he and Dori shared and headed for the backyard where they smoked when Ashley visited. Otherwise, he would have lit up right there.
Before he stepped out, he pointed the end at me and added, “You keep thinking on it. Or you can always come help us out around the mill.”
Ashley’s eyes widened across from me, but her father couldn’t see her expression. She shook her head no slowly, and that was all the convincing I needed. Plus, I wasn’t ready to see Abraham yet.
I didn’t want to hear him confirm everything they’d told me, true as it might have been.
It still hurt too much. It was too confusing, especially since his messages had sounded different than how the Griers had explained the situation. They’d sounded so genuine, which made it all the more unclear.
Ted slipped out, and Dorie followed, leaving me with Chris and Ashley.
Chris gathered the food boxes and bags they’d eaten from, but since there was no way I could finish the massive amount of food that came with my meal, I took mine to the refrigerator to save.
I’m not sure where it came from, but before I could stop myself the words were out of my mouth.
“Have you talked to Abraham?”
He first looked to his wife, and then back to me. “Yeah, I told him he looks like shit.”
I didn’t want him to look like... that, but for whatever reason hearing Chris say he did, gave me satisfaction. If he really didn’t care, wouldn’t his life just go back to normal?
And why would he come over to see me, if he didn’t really care—even just a little?
He added, “I mean, he’s okay, but you leaving has him pretty messed up. At least he came back to work today though. So that’s good, I guess.”
I stopped, dead in my tracks on the way to the garbage can. “He missed work?”
“Yeah, Monday and Tuesday. Didn’t want to leave in case you showed up.” His hands went up, palms out. “Honestly, I think it’s kind of messed up no one told him where you were or if you were okay.”
“Chris, it’s not our business,” Ashley claimed from the living room. “If Myra didn’t want him to know, then how was it anyone’s place to say anything.”
He shrugged and rubbed is full belly as he pushed it out like his wife’s. “I get it, I’m just saying he’s a good guy, and he was worried. That counts for something, right? It’s not like he was bad to Myra.”
I stayed quiet, absorbing their opinions on the situation.
“He is a good guy, but still he should have been more honest with her. He let her believe their marriage was real, Chris. I’m sure he had his reasons, but they were selfish. Myra deserves to know the truth—the whole truth—to make her mind up however she chooses.” She shifted to face me head on. “When you’re ready.”
Would I ever be ready to accept that nothing I knew was actually how it was?
Up was down. Down was sky-high. I was somewhere, aimlessly floating in the middle.
What if the Griers weren’t telling the whole truth either?
Who could I trust?
There was a knock at the front door and as Ashley tried to rock herself out of the couch, Chris waved her off and headed to the entrance a few feet away. He looked around the door, through the narrow window beside it, and then his eyes shot directly at me.
Quietly, he said, “It’s Abe.”
He came back? Again? For what?
Ted and Dori ran him off before dinner and here he was knocking on their door again.
I shook my head but didn’t run back to the spare room.
When Chris opened the door, it blocked both of them from my vision. So he couldn’t see me either. Besides, my feet were frozen to the tile floor beneath them.
“Abe,” Chris began, but Abraham cut him off.
“I know. I’m not here to bug her. Can you just give her this? She might want it.” His voice sounded different than I remembered, but still full and warm and big, just like I’d thought he was. There was no way to know what he’d brought me since he hadn’t said, and I couldn’t see through wood, but I was curious what it could be.
“Sure,” Chris replied.
“Thanks. Just tell her...” He paused and sighed. “Tell her I miss her.”
My heart cried out, “I miss you, too,” but my mouth remained shut. I fought down my emotions, something I’d never noticed doing before. Yet, there I was trying to hold back, keeping myself from breaking down.
For so long, my life had been calm and peaceful and now I was supposed to believe none of it was real and all these confusing feelings and upheaval were better? I was supposed to want this? I was free?
I didn’t feel free.
I felt trapped and nervous and scared. Mostly, I was alone.
“I will,” Chris replied and then he shut the door. In his hands was my Bible, the one tangible thing I owned that had always brought me comfort. I wondered if it still would.
He walked my way, with his arm stretched out to me.
Ashley watched from the sofa, her bottom lip jutting out.
“Guess you heard
him,” Chris said.
It had taken me a lot of time to get used to looking at Abraham when he spoke to me, but now I averted my eyes because I didn’t like what I saw on Chris’s face. Sympathy. For me, maybe. For Abe, maybe. Probably for the situation as a whole.
It was a mess.
I focused on the worn leather, running my finger over the embossed words on the cover.
“I heard.” There wasn’t a time, since learning to read, when I hadn’t read the scripture for so long. I wasn’t sure it would help, as jumbled and disorderly as my thoughts were, but at least it was familiar. “I’m going to wash up and go to bed. Will you please thank Ted and Dori for dinner for me? I’m really tired.”
They nodded in unison.
When I returned to my room, or the room I was staying in at least, I rifled through the bag of clothes Ashley had given me. She’d warned me that some might not be my style, but I was welcomed to whatever I wanted.
There wasn’t a nightgown, like I typically wore to bed, among them, but there were some soft pants that looked like they’d be comfortable to sleep in and more than one jersey t-shirt that would work. After washing my face and brushing my teeth and hair, I found myself lying in bed with my Bible perched on my chest.
I thought back to the morning when Dori found me outside, and one part of the long conversation the three of us had played on a loop in my ears.
We’re not trying to tell you the Bible is wrong or even what to believe. We’re just telling you that Pastor Hathaway, and the pastors before him in Lancaster, twisted and manipulated its teachings. They use it as a weapon to control the lives around them with fear.
It’s them who are wrong, not necessarily the Bible or God. That’s for you to reason on your own. Without the fear of punishment, if you question different things. Read it when you can come to it with a new perspective. A new understanding. Then decide what it means.
It made sense, but it also didn’t. How could one book be so specific and mean more than one thing to different people?
