give me permission to ride along.
Luckily, he had no clue
that person was the man I had
fallen desperately in love with.
The night before we left,
Aunt J and Kevin fixed a big
dinner, and when I came downstairs,
there were gifts on the table.
First I opened Kevin’s, a book
on horsemanship, so I could
“practice up for next summer.”
Aunt J handed me a small package.
Inside was a cell phone. You can
call me anytime. Don’t worry about
minutes. I’ve got them covered.
Face red, but brave in spite of it,
Ethan offered an even smaller box.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Set in a gold promise ring, three
small diamonds glittered. One
for you, one for me, one for us,
he said sweetly. I love you.
Aunt J started to cry.
“You said not to do that,” I scolded,
eyes tearing up too.
Kevin grinned. Women! You
gotta love ’em. Now how
about dinner? I like my steak rare.
What about you?
Our Last Night Together
Defined bittersweet.
It was beautiful,
laden with stars
and the serenade
of crickets, barn
owls, and bullfrogs,
late summer voices.
It was sorrowful,
filled with frail
promises that our
bloom into family
would not wither
with time, distance.
It was spectacular,
a vision of love
perfected, two
humans joined in
earthly lust and
spiritual passion.
It was the worst
night of my life,
because no matter
how hard I tried
to believe it would
all work out in the end…
The Old Pattyn Resurfaced
To tell the new
Pattyn she was
crazy.
Whoever directed
her heavenly
soul
to be placed in this
earthly body had
suffering
in mind. Just my
luck, my
angel
mentor was tilted
a bit to the
sadistic
side. But why
punish an
innocent,
unless in the end
everyone was
guilty
of unredeemable sin,
programmed by some
sibling,
or so the Mormon
Church claimed,
of God above?
I Thought I Knew “Sad”
But saying good-bye to Aunt J
was like stepping into quicksand,
knowing it was there.
Whatever happens, she said,
I want you to know that you
have given my life back to me.
It was a gift I never believed
possible, and I thank you,
from the depths of my heart.
But more importantly, you
are a gift, to all who know
you, whether or not they realize
it. If they don’t, they are blind.
You have a special place in this
world. All you have to do is find it.
Do not give up on yourself, on
the truths you have realized.
Do not give in to those who
would crush your dreams like
nutshells. And never turn
away from forever love.
Climbing into Ethan’s truck,
driving away and back toward
Carson City, was sorrow, defined.
We Made the Long Drive
Even longer, stopping
several times along the way
to stretch our legs, enjoy
the scenery and each other.
At lunchtime, we pulled
off into a stand of trees.
Ethan reached down under
the seat and extracted
a sizeable cardboard box.
You hide this, he said, somewhere
your dad will never look. This
is your trump card.
Inside the box was a pistol—
a 10mm semiautomatic.
It’s accurate as hell. But
you need to practice now,
and promise me you’ll stay sharp.
He spent the next half hour
helping me master control
of the FBI’s favorite handgun.
I wasn’t sure where I could
hide it, but I was damn well
going to find a place. Armed
with a gun like that, I felt safe,
at least as safe as I was likely
to feel under my father’s roof.
About Fifteen Minutes
Away from home, we
stopped for a private
good-bye.
And I tasted in our last
barrage of delectable
kisses
a growing sense of dread.
And I felt in our final
embraces
a strong premonition
not to let him go.
Promises
to stay in touch via cell
phone helped a little.
Vows
to visit when he could
helped not at all.
Tears
puddled, spilled, soaked
Ethan’s shirt like
a salty stream,
fed by a downpour of despair,
roiling into a river
of mourning.
He Dropped Me Off
Early evening, just past
suppertime. Inside, we could
hear the après-dinner commotion,
and it almost felt like a welcome home.
Which was good, because I got no real
welcome home, other than the girls squealing
hello; Mom glancing up from the TV to say hi;
and Dad and Johnnie, singing together out back.
I was glad Dad didn’t see
Ethan. But Mom and the girls
did when he carried my bags to
the door. Mom thought to ask who
he was and I gave a generic answer,
which she accepted without comment.
Jackie, of course, knew better. She waited
for the scoop until later that night. Whisper time.
Meanwhile, I walked
through the door with my
backpack full of books and two
suitcases, one filled with homemade
clothes. The other carried a new cell
and a new gun, tucked well inside a new
set of clothes and beneath a new quilt, which
Aunt J sent with me. No longer the new Pattyn.
I knew that as soon
as Dad stumbled into
the kitchen. Well, look
who’s home. Get me a bowl
of ice cream. With that, he let
me know from the get-go that life in
the Von Stratten house hadn’t changed
one bit. And if I somehow thought I had,
well, I was most definitely mistaken.
I Got Dad His Ice Cream
Without comment, mostly
because I didn’t want to take
a chance on a boxing match.
Maybe it was the L-tryptophan,
or maybe it was just Johnnie,
but Dad fell asleep early.
Mom stood and made her way
to bed.
She had definitely gained
a lot more than an eight-pound baby.
It didn’t seem the girls
had grown so much. Not
as much as I had, anyway.
They were a lot easier to put
to bed, though. Maybe they didn’t
want to chance Dad’s wrath either.
Jackie and I waited until
the house was dead asleep
before filling each other in.
By then, I was so grateful
for the silence that I really
didn’t want to talk. But I did.
We Both Held Back a Little
I talked about riding
horses, herding cattle,
driving pickups.
She talked about camp—
swimming, arts and crafts,
LDS propaganda.
I told her I didn’t go
to one sacrament
meeting all summer.
She told me they went
every week, despite Mom’s
morning sickness.
I talked about Aunt J,
confessed her sordid
secrets about our father.
Which opened the door
to Jackie’s own confession
about Dad’s cruelty.
I listened to her outline
his face slaps, hair yanks,
and punches that bruised.
She didn’t tell me then
the worst of it—a belt beating
that made the welts bleed.
I admitted almost everything
about Ethan, omitting only
the part about making love.
Jackie looked at my locket,
my promise ring, and though she
must have suspected the rest of it…
She Respected That Secret
Never even asked the question
that had to have been on her mind.
Just like I respected her unfinished
tale, though I knew there was more.
Some confidences require the right
moment, even between favorite sisters.
We talked late into the night
and it almost felt good being home,
sharing a bed with someone I cared
about, and who cared about me,
someone I could gush to about Ethan,
someone eager to hear
that forever love wasn’t just
an invention of romance authors
and fairy tales, but something vital
and viable. Something to trust in
and hold on to when the screaming
started and the blows fell.
For Everyone Else
It was just like I’d never left,
just like there had never
been another Pattyn but the one
they’d chased away.
The next morning, we ate
breakfast, went to sacrament
meeting. No one at church
acted like I’d even been gone.
Bishop Crandall did offer
an inquisitive stare, trying to assess
the success—or failure—of my
summer punishment.
I tried not to look smug, to avoid
future problems, but it wasn’t
easy, especially half listening
to bogus testimonies.
Why hadn’t I noticed it before—
how everyone said virtually
the same thing and no one seemed blown
away by the meaning of their words?
I mean, if God actually tapped me
on the shoulder and whispered
truths into my ear, I’d definitely
be impressed! And I’d show it.
And Then School Started
My senior year. I should have been excited, but it just seemed lame. Trigonometry. Astronomy. Government. I needed them to graduate, but after that, what for? I took creative writing for English and for my elective, Intro to Aviation, just in case I ever needed to fly an airplane. (Right after I bought my first Ferrari!) I did need a PE credit too. Lucky me, they counted the shooting club. But all the rest—dances, pep rallies, football games—meant nothing. And, with the exception of Jackie, not one of my schoolmates meant a damn thing either. I wasn’t one of them, not that I’d ever really felt like I was. But now I felt miles removed. Miles above. And I liked it up there.
For One Thing
Up there, it was easy to look
down on Derek and Carmen.
In fact, it wasn’t hard to look
down on Justin and Tiffany.
As for Becca and Emily and
the rest of my seminary crowd,
well, they’d always been
relatively worthless, anyway.
I did buddy up with Trevor,
a total germ whom I’d known
since fifth grade, completely
because he had a car—a beater,
but who cared? At least I had
a ride that wasn’t Mom or Dad.
I could tell that Trevor liked
me, and I played that to the max.
He was a good Mormon boy,
meaning goofy, churchgoing,
and soon in the market
for a good Mormon wife.
He was just the kind of guy
my parents would approve of.
I Tried to Talk to Ethan
Every day, usually at lunch.
Just hearing his voice
made everything all right.
His classes were hard,
he said, but not nearly as hard
as not having me close.
For me, forever love
was only strengthened
by distance. The weird thing
was, only months before,
I had thought this kind of love
was something to veer
wide around. But I
wasn’t afraid anymore.
Ethan was the first thing
on my mind every morning.
He was the last thing
I thought of, drifting off.
I couldn’t wait to see him,
fall into his kisses,
fold into his body.
Every atom
of me missed him.
The First Couple of Weeks
Things weren’t so bad.
At school, I tried to project the new Pattyn.
Attractive. Desirable.
That did come in handy
the first time I turned a corner and ran into
Carmen and Derek.
I flashed a cool smile,
put my nose in the air, and strode right by.
Here’s the good part.
As I wiggled off in new
form-fitting jeans, I heard Carmen hiss,
Are you checking her out?
I only wished they knew
where the self-confidence had come from,
who had given me my smile.
Wouldn’t Carmen take
a second look at Derek? Wouldn’t Tiffany turn
chartreuse with jealousy?
I bet even Ms. Rose
would gawk and run home to her spicy novels.
And Ethan belonged to me.
At Home
I reverted to the old Pattyn,
the one unlikely to draw much
attention to herself. Although
Mom was driving me crazy.
(Pattyn, please go check on
the girls. Pattyn, would you vacuum?
Pattyn, start the veggies—
like she was eating them!)
I tried to stay patient with
the girls. But for three of us,
hormones were an issue.
The others bickered constantly.
(I had that first. “Did not.”
You give it back. “I won’t.”
I’ll tell Mom and she’ll tell Dad—
>
that last one often worked.)
Dad was getting ready to go
hunting. Lucky him, he got
a deer tag. Tell the truth, he was
as relaxed as I’d ever seen him.
(Gonna fill up that freezer
with venison, long as I can get
far enough up in those hills—
meaning pray we don’t get early snow.)
Privately, I thought venison
was secondary. He missed
killing, and now he’d have
a chance to scratch that itch.
But Then Things Got Tough at Work
A big gathering of Yucca Mountain protesters
was expected at the capitol the following
week, when Department of Energy
representatives met with the governor.
That Friday evening Dad hit Johnnie
early, trying to dull the edge. Goddamn
protesters. Reminds me of the seventies.
Who do those shitheads think they are?
I can’t believe I said a word, dared
to express an opinion. “It’s called
free speech, Dad. It’s guaranteed
in the Constitution, you know.”
Dinner table babble fizzled as Dad
put down his fork. No one has a right
to question the government, missy.
Especially not those liberal loudmouths.
Burned Page 19
