by M. Mabie
“She’s fine. Smiling at me. Aren’t you?” she asked her baby in her mommy voice. “But anyway how did it go in Lancaster? Are you sad? Is there anything I can do for you?”
In true Ashley form, she fired question after question.
“It was strange going back.”
“I bet. Did you see all your family? Were they weird because of how you dress now?”
They would have been, but I guess they were distant anyway. So what would how I dress now even have mattered?
Except, I didn’t want to run away and hide from that place anymore. I wanted to help, just in a different way.
“Well, I kind of wore some old stuff.”
“You did not.”
Was it really that shocking?
“I did. Abe took me to see my father in private, and then after that it just felt like the thing to do.” For many reasons. One, we didn’t want to rock the boat with the Pastor. He had money we needed that could help others like Abe and I. Especially if they wanted different lives for themselves.
“Oh, I see. Were your brothers nice to you? It was crappy that no one called when your father was going downhill or even after he passed.” Over the small speaker at my ear, the faint squeak of her living room recliner came through the line and she shushed her little girl.
She was a wonderful new mother.
“I didn’t talk to many of them. We just sort of went to the funeral and luncheon and then left. One day there was more than enough for me. I’m not even sure how I lived like that. I had no clue, and neither do most of those people. It’s all they know.” I sat at the small dining table and looked at the textbooks and guides I’d gotten out earlier and all but ignored. “I didn’t even want to spend the night in that town, so we drove to Brashear a few miles down the road and slept at a hotel.”
“Oh.” She drew the word out like she was assuming something. “A fancy hotel. Swanky?”
I’d never been to one of those, but they sounded kind of fun. “It wasn’t a Swanky. It was a Holiday Inn,” I explained.
She giggled, and I laughed too, but I wasn’t sure what was funny. It just felt nice.
“Swanky isn’t a chain of hotels it’s a kind of one. And I just meant oh-la-la a night in a hotel. I’m not likely to have one of those for a while.”
I felt stupid for not knowing yet another thing, but Ashley wouldn’t tease me much.
I wasn’t sure if married women talked about private relations between them and their husbands with other married women. I’d never heard many of them talk about it much growing up, aside from some of my brother’s wives discussing when they were praying for another child, but they’d made it all seem so chore-like. As if it was their duty, and to them it was.
They never spoke about it with any joy, and that’s all I felt when I thought about the things Abe and I had done together. I was almost afraid to say anything for fear of finding out I was doing something else wrong and messing it all up because to me it had all been perfect.
Abe seemed to like it too. Well, we more than liked it, and I couldn’t wait to do it again. It was so different each time.
Was that normal?
I’d always been taught that sex was more for men and how they gave their glory to God through their wife and families. I’d always expected it was the same every time.
But Ashley and I shared stuff about our relationships sometimes—mostly her. She had no issues with talking about her sex with Chris, especially since she claimed she’d been interested in having so much of it during her pregnancy. And when it came to her body and her pregnancy, she didn’t hold anything back from our conversations.
I never went into too much detail. Last she knew we hadn’t been together yet, but I’d told her we were physical, and I’d asked her a few things about oral sex that had made even her blush.
So I felt comfortable talking to her about it, but there were just certain things I’d probably never say out loud. Although, if she asked, I’d probably answer if it wasn’t too embarrassing.
“We had a very nice night at the hotel.” My cheeks felt hot as I smiled and thought about what we’d done in our room that night. “Especially in the shower.”
“Yes,” she exclaimed and then reigned in her volume. “Shower sex is awesome.”
“We didn’t actually have sex in the shower, but we took one together.”
“Oh, well, yeah. That’s fun, but then you did it right? You two actually had sex?”
I couldn’t help feeling whatever brand of pride that swelled in my chest. “Yes, we have. Three times.” In a matter of a few days.
“Three? Shit. So? How was it? Why didn’t you tell me? I tell you everything.”
I chuckled. “I didn’t know you wanted to know so badly.”
“Well I do. Spill it. What do you think about it? How do you feel?”
I was relieved she didn’t ask for any specifics. “Well, I can understand why people don’t want to wait until marriage.”
She laughed outright. “For real.”
“But I can also say for certain now that I wouldn’t want to share that with anyone I didn’t love. I can’t judge others for doing it, but I don’t think that’s for me.”
“Well, that’s nothing to be ashamed of, Myra. Sex can be really fun, especially when you trust your partner and communicate well.”
Was I talking to the same Ashley? The woman who spoke openly about her vagina and her preference for doing it on all fours like animals—which now that I thought about it myself didn’t sound so taboo anymore.
Still, she wasn’t wrong. Abe praised me for talking to him and hated it when I was too quiet. Communication really made a difference.
“I trust him totally and we must be communicating well because I think it’s already the most fun I’ve ever had.”
“Ha,” she cackled. “Good for you—and Abe too, I suppose. Well, not that any of it is my nosy-ass’s business, but you can always talk to me about things too. If you’d rather talk to a woman instead of that big old shaggy ogre you call a husband.”
He wasn’t shaggy or an ogre.
And was he even my husband?
I wiggled the band on my left hand.
My thoughts on marriage had been upended for sure.
Oh well, I loved him and that seemed most important. The rest would sort itself out later. Wouldn’t it? Would there ever be a day when I didn’t wonder if had he not felt obligated to marry me that we’d be where we were?
Or did that even matter? We were together now.
If I’d been just a normal girl and he a normal guy, the way I’d asked him to take me out on a date only a few months before, what would an engagement be like? A real wedding?
My chest pinched wondering if Lancaster had stolen those things from me too.
I had enough to deal with that day, so I pushed those thoughts aside. Besides, I’d been having so much fun gabbing with Ashley.
“Thanks for being a good friend,” I told her.
“Don’t sweat it. You’re damn good friend too.” Violet’s quiet whimpers had escalated as we talked into a full-blown wailing fit. “I better go. I think someone is hungry. Again.”
“Okay, I should be studying anyway.”
“That’s right. Do your homework,” she teased. “I’ll talk to you later. Maybe we can meet somewhere for lunch this week. I need to get better at going out on my own with this little monster. It’s just too easy staying home.”
That seemed funny to me. She only had one baby, and the women in Lancaster always talked about the times when they only had one like it was paradise. It didn’t take them long to go from one baby to one baby and three or four toddlers. I’d been around for some of those trips to the market. They weren’t always pretty.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever want a herd of children now that I had a say so. I supposed that would be between Abe and me when the time came. Then again, maybe his babies would be wonderful like him and I’d want to have a full house.
After the call with Ashley, my mind wandered to my nieces and nephews. There were so many of them, but they were my family and they were innocent. Sure, so were their mothers, but it was different. I had to remind myself that the adults in that town were trapped too.
So I sucked it up and called around to my brothers’ houses, knowing at that time of the day their wives would answer the phones. I went down the line, from my oldest brother’s wife to Denise.
I kept the conversations light and most of them were kind to me, but they all sort of sounded like machines, spitting out the same pleasantries.
“Yes, Heavenly father is blessing us with another child.”
“Are you pregnant yet, Myra? Mrs. Hathaway asked us to pray for you at women’s bible study.”
“Are you living the Word?”
I felt like I was on repeat too. Feeding them the same answers and asking them the same questions in kind.
“How are the children?”
“Are you ready for Epiphany this winter?”
“Is there anything I can do for you?”
The seasons were changing and as families grew, so did the need for new blankets and larger clothes. There were always hand-me-downs that the younger girls would mend while learning to sew. But as their older children grew, they’d need new—or newish.
It wasn’t like they just ran to the mall. Then again, although I went to the mall, and I was only beginning to enjoy shopping like that, I still had it in me to make things I wanted to wear. I enjoyed working with my machine.
I had a growing list of things the women had hinted at needing or I’d offered to send them because I already knew.
“A quilt for the bed would be nice, Myra. Since you have so much free time, it shouldn’t be any trouble for you,” Denise said. Her tone had always been stern, and for that reason I’d felt for her small ones, but the simple fact was I didn’t have to let her disrespect me anymore.
Just knowing that made me less sensitive to her attitude and more sensitive to her situation. She was on the inside of an ugly world with a life she had no control over.
Just that morning, I’d seen on Pinterest a saying that read, “Hurt people hurt people.” It was fitting for Denise.
To say the phone call with her was a practice in grace would have been an understatement, but grace was something I gave her anyway. It was the right thing to do.
“I’d be happy to. It’s a queen bed, right?”
“Well I didn’t get a new one.”
Regardless of whether or not I was taking the high road, my eyes continued to roll.
“Any certain colors you’d like?”
“Not red and not purple.” There was a muffled sound on the line, and I assumed she was disciplining a child because her tone was authoritative, though I couldn’t hear clearly what she said. Then she came back to the call and added, “And nothing flashy, we’re not worldly like some people.”
There was a time I would have taken that comment hard. Being called worldly was just as bad as saying someone had loose morals.
Again, I knew better now, and I liked who I was. Who I was becoming. I’d never be perfect, but I was worthy of having a voice. I could make decisions about what was best for me, choices I could live with without guilt or shame.
I was certainly qualified to choose a color—morally qualified too.
“I’ll find something,” I said. Her house was plain, as were many, but of the few decorations she had I’d say creams and whites and tans would suit her just fine.
I spent the rest of the day trying to study, but I was distracted. My mind wandered to the Carter baby and to Leah the teacher. I’d found myself searching around on my phone for ailments that could cause a baby to look and behave that way and none of the answers I found made a lot of sense to me, but they didn’t sound good.
It wasn’t too difficult to find a phone number for the Academy, though I wasn’t sure calling was the right thing to do. I saved it in my phone. If she wasn’t in trouble, I didn’t want to get her there.
Soon I gave up on my math studies and finished the raspberry dessert and dinner.
14
Abe
When I got home that evening, there were so many things I wanted to talk to Myra about, but when I kissed her hello, she seemed stressed, and rightfully so. The usual spark in her eyes was more of a flicker. Her cheeks weren’t as peach. She was quiet, but her brows were bunched and obviously deep in thought.
Math weeks were her least favorite, and now she was behind.
I admired how even though she didn’t enjoy all her course work, she didn’t give up. I hated to admit it, but our upbringing probably enhanced the way we disciplined ourselves when we felt something was important. We were familiar with duty.
Whether it was good or bad, she was doing the work. So much work.
There was no way I could avoid talking to her about how my day had gone and all the things that happened, but they could wait until after her class.
I wanted to let her get that out of the way first. Seemed like the polite thing to do, especially since the cabin smelled incredible. Something was in the oven and dessert was already cooling on the counter.
I gave her space, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. There would always be days like that.
There was a lot on my mind too.
Like all the other nights when she’d cooked, I cleaned and when I finished wiping down the island, I caught her looking at me across the room. She was bent into the trunk where she kept her sewing things and had pulled out stacks of fabric. But when I noticed her, her eyes were on me.
Guessing what she was thinking had become a game for me, and I tipped my head to match the tilt of hers.
“Something on your mind?”
She pulled her hair out of her face and over to one side. It cascaded through the air beside her in thick, sandy long waves. With her side to me and her hands pressed to the edge of the trunk, her silhouette was teasing, and I swallowed, waiting for her to answer.
“What do you think about doggie style?”
My chest caved, and I coughed, choking on air. When I caught my breath, I asked, “Pardon?” I’d misheard her. My mind was playing dirty tricks.
“Do you know about it?” Casually, she stood, attentive as she waited for me to answer.
“Um, doggie style?” I hesitantly confirmed, all the while scrambling for an appropriate answer.
“When you face the same way instead of each other,” she added for ... clarity? For torture? She was going to kill me.
I will not make her late for class. I will not make her late for class.
“That’s the one.” I scratched my jaw. “Uh ... I’ve never been asked that before. Sorry. Caught me off guard.”
Thankfully there was a stationary island and a table and chairs between us because I’d much rather show her what I thought of it. I’d never met another person who had the ability to blindside me with mere words like Myra did.
“Is it worth trying?” she asked.
My stomach was tight below my pounding chest. “Yeah, we can try that sometime.”
She nodded. “I’ve read and heard good things about it, and I’ve really liked everything else we’ve done.”
Praise the Lord.
What man wouldn’t want to hear that?
“So have I.”
She shifted her weight to one hip. “Good. I think I’d like to give it a shot.” Her face looked both hopeful and curious, which couldn’t have been more relatable. I had to remind myself this was all new to her, and at least she was brave enough to talk about it. Everyone had insecurities, and even though hers were unfounded, I appreciated that she trusted me with them.
Where vulnerability made so many others weak, it made Myra brazen and boldly honest, albeit unexpectedly.
If she needed reassurance, I’d always give it to her. She never failed to mince words with me, so I’d offer her the same respect.
“Okay.” I wasn’t sure what to say. Hell, just talking with her about sex had been one of the best parts of my day.
She grinned and some of the tension fell from her shoulders as she respired. Her voice was persuasive as she continued, “Good. So if you want me to try something for you—in return—I will.”
What kind of creature did I have on my hands? Did she just negotiate with me to bend her over?
How was it possible that Heaven could be better than Earth, especially with her here?
What a woman.
“You won’t owe me for that. I’ll gladly give you whatever you want. No compensation needed.”
“Okay, good. Now, I need to deal with this stuff.”
How could she talk about sexual positions in one breath and then casually move on?
Her mind was fascinating.
Kneeling, she gathered the fabric from the floor and kicked the lid shut before she plopped them on top of it. “I’m going to need more thread. What time is it?”
Glancing at the stove, I read out loud. “Five after five.”
“I think I have time. I can make it to Hobby Lobby before class.”
And then, just like that, she scurried to the closet for a new jacket she’d bought a week earlier and the tiny blue purse that fit around her wrist. As she rounded the counter, swiping her keys from the basket, she offered me a kiss goodbye.
“There’s a chicken casserole in the oven. I’ll eat later. See you in a few hours,” she said.
“Be careful.”
She rose onto her toes and planted her warm lips against mine a second time and held them there a little longer until she hummed and pulled away. “I will.” On the way to the door she slipped the strap of her backpack over her shoulder.
She’d gently breezed into my life, but that woman was building into one hell of a whirlwind.
And I loved every second of it.
I WAS LEAVING SUNDAY and there were things I needed to do around the house to make being there alone easier for Myra. As November knocked at our door, it was hard to say if the weather would stay mild and cool like it had been or if a cold snap would hit and dump an early snow. I’d seen it both ways but erred on the side of caution and restacked the woodpile at the edge of the front porch and brought in a few loads, piling them near the woodstove in the living room. The cabin’s furnace worked well, but the woodstove was perfect for quickly taking the chill out of the air.
