I sighed. If I was being honest with myself, I was a little grateful that Darla and I hadn’t taken that step yet, because I was worried about all of those things too. Really worried. I didn’t want to hurt her or make her uncomfortable, and I wanted to make sure it was good for her. She had so much pain in her life already, and I was supposed to be the one who made it better, not the one who caused it.
But I had no idea how not to hurt her. I had no idea what a woman needed when it came to sex, because the one time I’d tried to go on the Internet at the library and look at anything having to do with the subject…well, what I found was way too graphic for my comfort. The only woman I ever wanted to see that much of was Darla, whenever she was ready for me to see that much of her. So I’d closed out of my search and just figured I’d fumble my way through it like every other inexperienced guy on the planet. They’d all managed somehow before the Internet was a thing, right?
“It’s up to her when it happens, but I’m worried about that too. All of it,” I mumbled, feeling my cheeks heat with embarrassment. I couldn’t believe I was actually having this conversation.
“Being nervous is normal, man. Did you not just hear me say I was nervous? But I can tell you this much. You don’t have anything to be scared of. You love her and she loves you. So much it’s a little sickening to watch. That’s the most important thing.”
“I just…I have no idea what she’ll need and how to make sure I don’t hurt her. I’m going in blind, and I don’t know where to even start.”
“It might sound cliché, but you feel your way through it. You take it slow and you pay attention to how she’s responding and take cues from it. And there’s nothing wrong with reminding her that it’s new for both of you and that she needs to help you out a little and let you know what you’re doing right or wrong.”
“Right, because that’s not awkward or anything.”
“Oh, it’s going to be awkward. Partially because you’ve waited this long. Because you’ve actually forced yourself not to take that step so many times instead of just letting it happen. When you do let it happen, it’ll change everything. That’s just a fact. But acknowledging the awkwardness is way better than both of you pretending it’s not there.
“And as for not hurting her? You need to make sure she’s wet enough before you just go diving in, and stretch her out a little with your fingers first. Start with one and work up to two. It’ll hurt her like hell if she’s not ready for you. The first time’s going to hurt her regardless, at least a little, but taking it slow and preparing her beforehand will help to minimize it. I learned that the hard way. Thankfully not with Nay,” he chuckled awkwardly. “Oh, and maybe make sure you have condoms at your place. Then you won’t be caught unprepared.”
I snorted. “Took care of that when I first moved in. I wasn’t sure if knowing we had our own space would make her feel differently about it. It didn’t, and I’m okay with that, but they’re there whenever she’s ready.”
“Just remember those things have expiration dates. If it doesn’t happen for a while,” he snickered, nudging my shoulder. “But all joking aside, you’re a good guy. Nay won’t tell me much about what’s going on with Darla at home, but I know it’s not good, and I know how glad she is that Darla has you.”
“Truth? I bought a ring before I even moved into my apartment. It was the first thing I saved up for. I’m just waiting for the right time to ask her,” I admitted. “I know how young we are, but I have to get her out of that house.”
Alex’s eyes widened. “Is her dad…is he hurting her?”
“It’s not my place to tell you. I wish I could, but I can’t. All I can say is that even if we end up living on ramen noodles while she’s going to college, living with me will be a better and more stable environment for her.”
“Well, you realize I’m calling the best man slot, right?” he said, smiling a little. “Nate’s a little young.”
“Who else would it be?” I sighed. “Thanks, man. For not making me feel like a freak.”
“Oh, you’re a freak,” he teased, shoving my shoulder. “But not because you’re still a virgin. I’m way more concerned about the fact that you still haven’t seen O Brother, Where Art Thou? Everyone’s seen that movie.”
I laughed. “Yeah, I really should remedy that at some point. But right now, I have a very awkward phone call to make to my uncle.”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” he chuckled. “Is it wrong that I hope he fires the asshole?”
I snorted. “Nope. I do too. Maybe Frank’s replacement will be someone who actually knows what the hell he’s doing.”
“One can only hope,” he agreed. “See you at church tomorrow, man.”
“See you tomorrow,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder before getting into my car.
Chapter 20
Darla
Collide
Dressed in an old t-shirt and ripped jeans that I’d never wear in public, I grabbed the bottle of wood polish I’d bought from the hardware store a month ago and got to work. When I moved out of this house to go to college this fall, I couldn’t stand the thought of not taking my craft table with me, but it was getting old and worn, so earlier this month, I’d decided that I was going to sand it down and re-finish it. And now I was finally getting around to doing it.
The fact that I was graduating from high school in a few short weeks was mind-boggling. In some ways, it felt like it had been ten years instead of four since I’d stepped foot on the Charleston High campus for the first time. But in other ways, it felt like it was just yesterday.
These had been both the best and worst years of my life. They’d been the best years of my life because I’d met some amazing people that I knew I was going to stay friends with for the rest of my life and because I’d strengthened other friendships. And, of course, because of Brendan. Three and a half years later, and he was still the best thing that had ever happened to me. He’d been my strength when I had none, my hope and faith when mine was dwindling, and my promise for a better and brighter future.
The fact that I needed a promise for a better future was the reason that my high school years had also been the worst of my life. It seemed like the older I got, the more controlling, manic, and violent my dad got. Brendan had laid in my bed holding and consoling me more times than I could count after my dad had dislocated my shoulder (again), left me with welts and bruises from beating me with his belt, and broken my ribs. And most of the time, I hadn’t even done the thing he was accusing me of. But if I ever tried to tell him that, it just made it worse. It was better to just keep my mouth shut and accept my punishment than try to reason with him.
The cell phone that Brendan had given me so I could keep in touch with him and my friends buzzed from inside my purse, and I went to set down the bottle of polish so I could check it…but I didn’t set it down flat. The bottle tipped over and polish gushed out of the opening.
“Crap!” I groaned as I quickly stood the bottle up and used my rag to spread out the polish that had ended up on the table.
Once I’d salvaged as much as I could, I looked down at myself and saw that it had gotten all over my clothes and skin. I needed to get in the shower to get it off, and there was a small puddle of it on the carpet too, which needed to be steam-cleaned before it was a completely lost cause. I went to my door and cracked it open.
“Mom!” I called. “Can you come help me, please?”
My mom came out of her bedroom and padded across the house toward my room.
“What’s wro—oh, my goodness!” she said as she took in my appearance.
“Yeah,” I chuckled. “I’m a klutz and knocked over the bottle of wood polish I was using to re-finish my craft table. I managed to use most of it on the table, but a lot got on me, and there’s a little bit on the carpet too. Do you mind steam-cleaning the carpet while I get in the shower?”
“Yes, of course,” she said. “Do me a favor and leave those clothes in the bathroom so you do
n’t get that polish on the rest of the clothes in the hamper.”
“I was going to do a separate load of laundry to wash them when I got out of the shower.”
“I just started a load, honey,” she said apologetically. “Just leave your clothes in there, and I’ll take care of it as soon as this load’s done.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
I headed off to the bathroom, quickly stripped out of my clothes, and threw them in the sink before getting in the shower. Why hadn’t I put an old sheet or something down before I started this project? This was my first time doing a project this big, but I’d worked with wood polish before. I knew better.
Just as I emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, I heard the front door bang against the wall and then slam shut so hard that it echoed through the whole house.
“Darla!” my father roared. “Come out and fucking face what you’ve done!”
My heart leapt into my throat and I froze, unable to make my feet keep walking toward my bedroom, as his footsteps boomed down the hallway. When he came into view, his eyes had that same hard, manic look that I’d come to dread over the past few years. The look that told me he was in a blind rage, and no matter whether or not I’d actually committed whatever infraction he seemed to think I was guilty of this time, all I could do was grin and bear the beating until it was over.
“You thought you could just fucking wash the scent off, you lying Jezebel?!” he growled as he grabbed my arm and yanked me toward him. “You thought I wouldn’t find out that you’ve been whoring yourself around?”
I froze.
Had he found out about Brendan?
If he knew I had a boyfriend…well, I had no idea what he might be capable of. How far he’d go in his quest to punish me before doing much, much worse to the man I loved.
“What are you talking about, Dad?” I choked out, my voice barely above a whisper.
“You thought I wouldn’t fucking see you?!” he continued to rant. “You thought that if you ducked into an alley to fellate that Judas, you wouldn’t be found out?! You’re just like every other fucking member of your sex! Weak! Impulsive! Sinful! Impure!”
Wait. What? What on Earth was he talking about?
I’d never “fellated” anyone before in my life. Not even my boyfriend. It wasn’t that I hadn’t thought about going further, because I had, but I was still a virgin, in every possible sense of the word.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dad. I didn’t do anything,” I squeaked.
“Fucking treacherous harlot!”
He shoved me backward, making the towel I had wrapped around me – the only semblance of modesty I had – fall to the floor. I quickly bent down to retrieve it, but he kicked it away before I could.
“The stain of impurity will never be washed off!” he bellowed. “I can see the fucking transgressions written all over your body!”
I quickly crouched down and curled into a ball, trying to hide my most intimate areas from my father, who was staring me down like it was a contest, refusing to avert his eyes. He was looking at me like a dog would look at a steak. Like I was a prize, something to be won or conquered.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his black boots approaching me, and I cowered further against the wall, trying to make myself as small as possible.
I couldn’t let him see me like this. A father wasn’t supposed to uncover his daughter’s nakedness. That was written in the Bible. He should have been forcing me to put clothes on, not prohibiting me from doing so.
Why was he doing this? Even if I had done what he was accusing me of, this wasn’t okay. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t discipline. It wasn’t even punishment. It was…I didn’t know what it was, but my stomach turned and my head spun with each slow step he took toward me. It felt like time was standing still and speeding up all at once.
“Get up,” he snarled, grabbing my shoulders and dragging me to my feet, using his entire body to press me against the wall.
Oh, my God.
What was…no. No.
This couldn’t be happening.
I might have been inexperienced, but I knew what it looked like, what it felt like, when a man was aroused. I’d felt it plenty of times with Brendan over the past few years.
It felt like this. There was no mistaking the stiffness I could feel pressing against my stomach as my father’s maniacal eyes bored into me, three inches away from my face.
I was naked. Exposed. Terrified. My father was seeing parts of me that I hadn’t even allowed the man I loved to see, and instead of being disgusted or ashamed by the fact that he was seeing me in this state, he was sexually aroused by it.
It took every ounce of willpower I possessed to swallow the bile that rose in my throat as tears sprang to my eyes and started to trail down my cheeks.
When had this happened? When had my father, the man who was so obsessed with following the Bible to the letter that he wouldn’t allow me to even be in a car with a boy, turned into this perverted and sickening monster?
What had I done to make him respond like this? Why was this arousing him when it should have been repulsing him?
“‘This is the way of an adulterous woman,’” he hissed menacingly, quoting from Proverbs. “‘She eats and wipes her mouth and says, “I have done no wrong.”’”
“Abraham!” my mom gasped. “What in God’s Name are you doing?!”
He backed away ever so slightly, just enough to let me grab the towel that was now six feet away and cover myself again, as he turned to look at my mother. The crazed, demonic look was still in his eyes, his face was beet red, and he was panting like a bull about to charge at a matador as he slowly moved toward her. He almost looked even more enraged now than he had been ten seconds ago. Like he was upset with my mom for interrupting him. Like he’d wanted to be left alone with me, to continue down the dark, sickening path he’d just started to travel.
“I saw this fucking harlot fellating a man behind a building this afternoon!” he spat. “And she thought she could hide her treachery from me by washing his seed away!”
“What are you talking about?!” she exclaimed. “Darla was here all afternoon!”
“Don’t you fucking dare contradict me, woman!” he roared, backhanding her across the face so hard that she stumbled into the wall.
My eyes blurred with more tears as I stood frozen in place, staring at the huge, red mark on my mom’s cheek.
My father had just hit my mother. I’d never seen his violence directed at anyone other than me before. Ever. He’d always told me that it was my fault for making him act that way because he needed to show me the way of the Lord.
So whose fault was this? What explanation could he give that would justify hurting his wife just because she’d tried to correct his inaccurate assumptions?
“Abraham, look at your daughter!” she pleaded with him, her voice shaking as tears started to trail down her cheeks. “Look at how terrified she is!”
“Because the little whore knows the punishment for sodomy and impurity is death!”
“She was here!” she sobbed, reaching for his hand. “You have to believe me!”
“She conned you with her scheme of lies!” he insisted, yanking his arm away and starting to walk back toward me. “She was fucking washing the stink of a man off when I walked in the door!”
She scurried over to him, grabbing his shirt as she fell to her knees, like she was praying for her voice to break through the haze of fury surrounding him. “No! She wasn’t! She spilled wood polish while she was refinishing her craft table in her room! She was taking a shower to wash it off!”
“This daughter of Satan spun a web of deceit and you fell victim to it!” he thundered as he started to raise his hand again.
“Go look in the bathroom, Abraham! I had her leave her clothes in there until I could wash them so the polish wouldn’t get on the rest of the laundry.”
My father’s fist froze mid-air, and then he stormed int
o the bathroom.
Quickly regaining my senses, I rushed back into my bedroom. For the first time in my whole life, I locked the door, and my breath came in short gasps as I sank down to the floor, hugging my knees, unable to make myself move to get clothes from my dresser.
I had to get out of here. I couldn’t stay in this house. I wasn’t safe here. Not anymore.
Struggling to take a breath, I forced myself to my feet and made my way over to my closet to find a duffel bag, then went to my dresser and yanked open a drawer.
I threw on the first clothes I could find and quickly tossed random garments into the bag, along with the charger for my cell phone and my Bible. Just as I was zipping the bag closed, I heard the bathroom door slam, the thudding of my father’s footsteps as he stormed down the hallway, and then their bedroom door slamming so hard that it shook the whole house.
I had to leave. I had to get far away from here. Somewhere he couldn’t get to me. Somewhere he couldn’t come and find me to finish what he’d started.
My mother’s cries and sobbing started to echo through the house, and a fresh round of tears filled my eyes. Even now that he knew he was wrong, he was still hurting her for stopping his tirade.
It was only a matter of time, and probably not much of it, before he came back and started hurting me again. Or did something much worse.
I wasn’t stupid. I knew what would have happened if my mom hadn’t interrupted him.
She’d saved me. My mother had saved me from being sexually assaulted by my own father.
I couldn’t stay here. I just couldn’t. I couldn’t just sit around and wait for next time to happen.
What if my mom wasn’t there to save me next time? What if the next time my dad thought I’d committed some heinous sin, he was alone with me? Would he actually finish what he’d started today? Would he violate me, use me, and degrade me, and then claim that I’d made him do it, just like he’d always claimed that I’d made him hurt me before?
Grabbing the bag I’d haphazardly packed, my school backpack, my purse, and my keys, I rushed out the door before my parents could even realize I was leaving.
My Vows Are Sealed (Sealed With a Kiss) Page 22
