Sinful Purity (Sinful Series)

by K. A. Standen

  “Hey, does anyone here care that I am lying here helpless, bored, and throbby?” Kelly shouted.

  “I’m sorry, Kelly,” I said. “Of course I care. That’s why I brought Brett up right away. He didn’t even know you were in here. No one told him.”

  “Okay, sis, spill it. Are you really allergic to church like she says?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you, Brett. It was the weirdest damn thing. One minute I’m doing my weekly penance, the next my lips are all swollen and on fire like I’d been making out with a blowfish. They had to take me away on a stretcher.”

  “The sisters think maybe she was bitten or stung by something,” I explained. “They have even theorized a reaction from a chemical or cleaner from the church. You know, St. Matthew’s is so old, it is really hard to be certain.”

  “Just great, I could have lead paint or asbestos poisoning. As if I didn’t think weekly Mass was bad enough, now I have to fear for my life.”

  “Calm down, Kelly. You’re always so melodramatic,” Brett accused.

  “I am not! You have no idea.”

  “No, really, you should have seen her when she was seven and got chickenpox,” Brett told me. “She insisted that she was infected with smallpox and told all our neighbors not leave their houses, that the area had been quarantined.”

  “Hey, need I remind you I am the sick one? So stop ragging and entertain me already!”

  The three of us spent the rest of the afternoon playing cards and poking fun at Kelly. Whatever medication the doctor had her on made the taunting that much easier. Kelly was usually as quick-witted as Brett was charming, so I knew that this opportunity was just too sweet to pass up. Kelly was a good sport for the most part, even though we spent most of the day laughing at her expense.

  “You just wait until I’m clear-headed again,” Kelly slurred.

  Just then Mother Superior entered the infirmary to tell Brett that visiting hours were over and he needed to leave. Kelly and Brett once again said their goodbyes. This time seemed easier for them. I don’t know if it was the medication or all the laughing that we’d done that day, but this time when Brett left, there were no tears.

  I walked Brett back out to the gate where his bike was parked. “Well, thanks for coming by to see Kelly, Brett. I know you made her really happy,” I said, not wanting to mention how happy his visit had also made me.

  “Hey, wait a second, Liz,” Brett called as I started to walk away. I turned around in time to see him pull something out of the black leather saddlebag that was slung over the back fender of his motorcycle. “I promised you something special.”

  “Oh, you didn’t have to do that, Brett,” I gushed, not really expecting anything.

  He handed me a small paperback booklet. The cover simply read Civil Disobedience. It was by Henry David Thoreau. “I know this isn’t as popular as Walden, but I thought you could nurture your inner rebel.” There was a touch of sincerity in his voice. “You know, kid, they’ll eat you up out there if you don’t find your edge.” He gestured to the world outside the protective gates. Brett then leaned in and gently kissed me on the forehead. My eternal bliss was disrupted by his closed fist twisting on the top of my head. Had Brett just given me a noogie?

  “See ya later. Take care of my sister for me!” he yelled as he kick-started his motorcycle and rode off.

  I stood motionless and dumbfounded behind the iron gates. I wasn’t sure what had just happened. I remembered the kiss. But what was the deal with the noogie? Talk about mixed signals. I could tell I’d be reeling from this for a while.

  It was getting late and I must have looked like an idiot standing out there by myself. Perplexed and dazed, I walked back inside the orphanage to check on Kelly.

  Over the next couple of months, Kelly was in and out of the infirmary, always after having been to church.

  “I knew this godly prison was going to kill me,” she’d bellow.

  I think even the sisters felt sorry for her because they never even offered a sideways glance at her blasphemy. Stone-faced Sister Christine began visiting her almost daily, just to check in. Neither Kelly nor I could understand the underlying motives of Mother Superior. Her actions would have suggested that her demeanor had softened throughout the years. But we knew better—Sister Sledge was corporal to the bone. No mushy stuff there, just crime and punishment.

  “Don’t be fooled, Liz. Mother Superior is just trying to save the orphanage from a lawsuit,” Kelly explained. “I could so own this place!”

  “Why would you ever want to?” I asked contemptuously.

  “Yeah, can you imagine you and me living here until we were eighty? Ugh!”

  “Well, if we were that crazy, we’d definitely need a lot more cats!” I laughed.

  “The crazy cat ladies of Mary Immaculate Queen,” Kelly said creepily as she outstretched her arms in the air, mimicking a ghost.

  “Don’t forget virginal,” I added.

  “Oh, yeah, right. That’s even worse,” Kelly sighed.

  I knew that Kelly and I would never still be living here at MIQ when we were adults. There was no way that we’d stay one minute longer than we legally had to. What really killed me, though, was that Kelly had only a little more than a year left. As soon as Brett was her legal guardian, she’d be out of here. The thought terrified me. Having Kelly made my life bearable. I never wanted to go back to how it was before she got there. I felt like I was actually developing a mind of my own. While still well behaved and highly educated, I was no longer one of MIQ’s perfect cookie-cutter children.

  Then there was the matter of Brett. If Kelly left, Brett would no longer have a reason to visit. I adored Brett’s visits, sometimes even more than Kelly did, I think. Brett was effortlessly smooth and charismatic, not to mention the best-looking guy I had ever laid eyes on. But it was more than that. He made me feel special. Brett had a way of listening so intently, you’d think a cataclysmic disaster couldn’t divert his attention. Kelly never had the attention span let alone the interest to succeed at communication the way Brett did. In fact, Kelly’s only conversational skill was that she could talk faster and longer than anyone I had ever encountered. I’m sure Guinness would have given her a record had they known about her.

  Another thing about Brett was that he was very wise about the ways of the world, at least in the eyes of a recluse like me. We would talk for hours about all the forbidden books and journals he’d sent me. I couldn’t imagine how void of personal thought I would be if I’d had to depend solely on the approved reading materials like the other kids did. Thoreau’s Civil Disobedience had become my Holy Grail. The idea that in order to be socially responsible you needed to act out was a marvelous, thought-provoking concept. One that, I might add, I was positive that neither Sister Christine nor Father Brennigan would embrace.

  I missed Brett sorely and longed for him to return practically from the moment he left. He was extraordinarily flirtatious, which made me squeal with delight, while internally the promise of underlying truth turned me to gelatin. By day he starred in all my fantasies, and by night even my subconscious longed for his touch.

  Every time I saw Brett, he’d do this thing that absolutely liquefied me. I know it sounds crazy, but he’d call me by the wrong name. Of course, at first I was devastated, thinking that I was unimpressive enough for him not to remember my identity time and again. Still, I couldn’t blame him. Even I didn’t truly embrace my current designation. After all, Mary Elizabeth wasn’t my given name; it was more like loaned to me. I was confident that my own parents had bestowed a simply sublime name. I just didn’t know what it was, although I had my theories. Anyway, visit after visit I would be crushed until I realized he was calling me by the names of the most beautiful, famous, sexy women throughout time.

  “Hey, Bettie,” Brett would call.

  “Bettie?” I’d inquire.

  “Aren’t you the super sexy Bettie Page? You’re gonna pose for me, right, Bettie?” Br
ett would tease.

  I ate it up. I started to adore attention, at least from Brett. Sometimes I’d wonder how long it took him to think it all up. Was it on the short drive over that he would decide what he was going to call me? Or did it take planning? Did he really know who all these women were? Or did he have to look them up like I did? After Brett left, my mind would race with questions.

  Kelly knew I had an enormous crush on her brother. Surprisingly out of character for her, she never said a word, not even a humor-filled jab. There were several occasions that I considered talking to her about it. It was only natural, since she shared every passing thought that she had with me. Yet I always changed my mind after imagining what a can of worms it would open. Part of me feared that Kelly had secretly told Brett. But if she had, he never let on. Brett acted the same way with me now as he had the first day we met. I found a lot of comfort in that: no matter what changed or what crisis loomed, Brett was always predicable, safe. He was stable and reliable, like the Rock of Gibraltar. He didn’t even pick sides between Kelly and me when we disagreed.

  When Brett wasn’t around, I spent much of my spare time imagining what he was doing, what his life outside the orphanage might be like. Being here at MIQ since I was so young, it was often hard for me to envision anything different. This stark, restricted life was normal to me.

  Kelly would tell me fanciful stories about her life before “lock down.” I would close my eyes and visualize rock concert stages, zombie and slasher flicks, and the wild, teen-filled malls of America’s youths. I always knew that Kelly had a harder time accepting the life at MIQ because she had experienced what real life was like, while all I was familiar with were the regulations of Communist East Germany behind the veil of the Iron Curtain. A rationed life was easier for me to accept because I had never known excess.

  Naughty Vs. Nice

  That summer I turned sixteen. I had filled out more and even started resembling a girl. I looked more mature and shapely, though I hadn’t grown in over two years. I couldn’t believe that after growing up as one the tallest kids at the orphanage, I had topped out at an average five feet, five inches. Even short little Kelly now stood eye to eye with me. I had never cared that much about my height before, since it had always been more a topic of ridicule than anything else. But now that I was just average, I felt more ordinary than ever. There went the supermodel career Kelly was always talking about.

  Brett arrived right on schedule. I ran up to him and he gave me a huge hug and twirled me around a couple of times, just like he’d always done to his sister. Brett visited frequently, every two to three weeks. We were very comfortable with each other now. As smooth and suave as he was, I was sure he had probably always been comfortable. I, on the other hand, had spent the last couple of years hopelessly in love with my best friend’s brother. Somehow I managed to learn to appreciate our friendship while secretly pining away for him in the depths of my soul.

  “So who am I this time, Brett?”

  “Well, I don’t know. Who do you want to be, Ginger or Mary Ann? Wait, I know. You want to be Mary Ann. She’s the better choice.”

  “What if I want to be Ginger?” I inquired.

  “Oh, Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie. I still have so much to teach you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Guys might want to look at Ginger, but they fall in love with Mary Ann. That’s why, sweetheart, you always choose Mary Ann.”

  “Oh, Brett. Who’s going to fall in love with me?” I begged, only half-jokingly.

  “Well, how about me?” Brett picked me up in his arms and spun me around, laughing as he kissed me over and over on the cheek.

  “Let’s go get Kelly, okay?” I squealed.

  “All right,” he conceded.

  “You have to put me down first,” I insisted.

  “Not until you promise me that you’ll always be Mary Ann.”

  “Okay, okay. I’m Mary Ann.” It was kind of fitting. I always felt more like the girl next door than the bombshell anyway.

  Kelly was once again up in the infirmary. She had been there so much lately that it wasn’t like having a roommate at all anymore. This last episode was her worst yet. The reaction had been so severe that even her breathing stopped for a few seconds until one of the sisters could administer the epinephrine to halt the swelling. Sister Christine even allowed Kelly to skip weekly Mass to recuperate. Even now, over two weeks later, Kelly’s entire face and neck were so swollen that she was nearly unrecognizable. Her lips were huge and discolored like a deep bruise. Her eyes mere slits looking through a puffy, freckled canvas. It pained me to look at her. I wondered what Brett thought. I didn’t have to wonder long as I looked up at him standing next to me. I could see all color drain from his face. The agony and helplessness was as plain as day.

  “What have they done to you, Kell?” Brett questioned frantically, as if hoping that at any moment the perpetrator would be brought to justice.

  “What, you don’t like my new kisser? You know, some women pay big bucks for luscious lips like these.” Kelly mocked as she puckered her overly plump lips.

  “Seriously, do they know what happened? They have to be looking into it. Don’t they? Someone has to know, right?” Brett prodded desperately.

  With every question, Kelly and I both just nodded and shrugged helplessly. I empathized with Brett. I too wanted more than anything to find out who or what had been hurting my friend. But no one knew, and if they did, they weren’t telling.

  “I’m so sorry, Kell,” Brett continued, lost in his personal agony. “I really thought you’d be safe here. We all thought you’d be safe here. No one could have known he’d be so relentless.”

  “Enough, Brett!” Kelly screamed, looking toward me.

  What had Brett meant by “he’d be so relentless”? I knew that whatever it was, he had divulged too much. Kelly was furious about his breach of trust. Her eyes glazed red and stormy, looking like a bull ready to charge. I thought it would be a good time to excuse myself.

  “I’ll leave you guys alone to talk,” I said, quietly slipping out the door.

  “Wait!” Kelly’s voice echoed.

  I turned around to step back into the room. “Did you need something, Kell?” I inquired, hoping that my departure could be quick. I didn’t do well with stressful situations. I couldn’t bear sticking around to watch the two most important people in my life verbally duke it out.

  “Liz, tell him it’s not like that. Tell him about the—the ring,” Kelly stuttered.

  “Kelly, not now. Not this again,” I pleaded.

  “What do you mean ‘not now’?” Kelly shrieked, her voice shrill with anger. “That damned ring, all pious-looking and unassuming. It’s a bacterial playground. Kid after coughing kid kissing it. And what about the old people and the rest of the congregation? What about them? They aren’t germ-ridden, I suppose? I see how you’re looking at me! I am not crazy! Haven’t you ever heard of germ warfare? That’s what they’re doing here—exposing us, infecting us with God only knows what. Tuberculosis, cold sores, flesh-eating viruses, the list is endless.”

  “Wait. You think that Father Brennigan is trying to contaminate you by requiring that you kiss his ring as a sign of respect?” Brett laughed.

  “I don’t know, Father Brennigan or the whole Roman Catholic Church. Who’s to say exactly how far this goes up the line? Plus, have you ever seen him wash his hands? I have been here for years and I’ve never seen it. What about you, Liz? You’ve been here longer than anyone. Have you ever seen Father Brennigan even touch a bar of soap? Well, have you?” Kelly ranted.

  “I am sure he washes his hands, Kell,” I replied, a little more than perturbed at the idiocy.

  “You’re gonna tell me that you are lying here all swollen and allergic because the Catholic Church is trying to poison you?” Brett mocked.

  “Or Father Brennigan,” I added as an extra jab.

  “Right, or Father Brennigan!” Brett exclaimed, practically
falling down laughing.

  “You can laugh all you want!” Kelly yelled. “But he’s an assassin, I tell you.”

  “I’m gonna leave now, okay?” I walked back out the door.

  “An ASSASSIN!” I heard Kelly howl.

  Downstairs I waited for Brett, wondering what he was enduring at the irate hands of Kelly. I thought about how ludicrous her hypothesis had been. A Roman Catholic conspiracy, all aimed at giving Kelly puffy eyes and the sniffles. Who could be that brainless?

  Kelly, I thought, answering my own question. Only Kelly.

  As I sat quietly, I noticed Father Brennigan and Sister Christine in the distance in what looked like a heated conversation. Father Brennigan always talked with his hands, so his body language really didn’t seem that out of place until I noticed Sister Christine. She was waving her arms around like a crazy lady. This way and that way her arms swung, gesturing from her mouth as if to give her words more force. Sister Christine was stern to a fault but always refined, controlled. Her demeanor never led anyone to doubt her devotion and faith in her station in life. Only her evil mug gave pause to the vile, cruel thoughts that I was sure lay just beneath the surface. I couldn’t even surmise what she and Father had to argue over. They were on the same team, after all. “Team God ,” I chuckled to myself.

  It got later and later. I had spent the better part of the day rereading Pride and Prejudice, a hopelessly romantic book that seemed just right somehow. I didn’t even notice the time until the light started to disappear behind St. Matthew’s lofty steeple and the sky began to darken. I hurriedly stood up, gathering my belongings and my thoughts.

  I must be almost late for dinner. What happened to Brett?

  I never saw him leave, and Mother Superior always forced him to depart far before now. Disappointed at the thought that I must have missed him leaving as I read, I solemnly walked inside.