I was driving down a narrow street that had mailboxes jutting out of the ground in front of their tiny, beat up, shoebox houses. Maybe the street felt so narrow because people were parking their cars half in and half out of it. At 9 o’clock in the freezing cold, there was nobody around to help me find number 127. I passed the box before looping around at the end of the street. Brody definitely lived in what could be termed “the sticks.”
Tentatively, I pulled my car into his gravel drive and turned off my headlights. I always hate parking at someone’s house to which I’ve never been. You’re never quite sure where to put your bulky car so that it won’t be in the way. Block the driveway? Or park half on the street in the mud? I pulled in next to his Volvo and called before stepping out of the car.
Before it even rang, he was out on the steps to the side door. He smiled and waved me in.
The Fruity Pebbles were on top of his refrigerator in the kitchen. I smiled at them as I walked in through the same side door into which he’d beckoned me.
“It’s really cold out there!” He was wearing a sweater, and he rubbed his hands together inside his sleeves. “How did you do, by the way?”
“I won first in Dramatic Interp! Nothing for Poetry, though. There were a lot more entries in that event.” Speech speak. I didn’t think he understood really, as most people don’t. But surely winning first he would understand.
“That’s great!” He did. I whipped out the tiny marble paperweight I had won. It had the tournament name and “First Place ~ Dramatic Interpretation” written on a little golden plate. How thrilling. I missed the rewards from tournaments in high school. High school speech was so much more gratifying.
“So I’m standing here with a little champion, huh? In my house!” He poked me as he said it, and I giggled before getting him back.
Like I said, it was 9 o’clock, so I sat on the couch for an awkward moment.
“I don’t really have any thing to do here,” he said. Nice move, I thought, inviting me over to do nothing. “I mean, I don’t have tv. I have dvds though. I’ve got the whole series of Smallville.”
He gestured toward an entertainment center loaded with probably every aired season of the same show.
“Like Superman much?”
“So you want to watch something?”
“I don’t know. Its cold.”
He came and flopped down next to me. I got that feeling like something was about to happen. Maybe he had flopped too close to me.
“Oh. Here, let me get you a blanket.” He reached behind the couch and pulled out a red fleece blanket. He draped it over me.
“How cute are you, all taking care of me and stuff,” and I shot him a sideways glance.
“Well you said you were cold.” He smirked back.
“Maybe I still am.”
I don’t know when I decided to major in innuendo, double entendres and flirting in general. But at some point in college, armed with my own car and cell phone, I became an expert on date-acquisition. Perhaps my minor could have been joking my way into a lip-lock, because I don’t know where these things came from. These in-jest invitations were the sole reason I got in so much trouble, I think. Of course, I did have a pretty great time getting into all the trouble.
“Hey,” Brody was standing over me. I squinted into the light of the room and realized suddenly that he was wearing a suit and tie. Which contrasted greatly with what I had on.
“Hi.” I sat up, and he sat down next to me.
“No, you don’t have to wake up, I’ll be back. I’ve just got to go to church, and I’ll be right back.”
…Church?
And he did. He left. I got up anyway because I felt weird being in someone’s house all by myself. I stared at the box of Fruity Pebbles, still unopened. I just didn’t feel very hungry. He was supposed to eat them with me, I had thought. I ended up sitting on the couch under the red blanket peering around at the parts of the room I didn’t notice in the dark the night before.
There were photos on the top shelf of the entertainment system with some blonde girl in them. Sister? Yet upon closer inspection I realized that this blonde had to be his ex-girlfriend. She was pretty. Skinny. I had never thought I was slender enough, though in retrospect I should have relished in my size 6.
It was so quiet! I turned on the television to some very loud static, and quickly turned it off. After sighing rather loudly, I decided to fall asleep on the couch in some cute position so that he would walk in and see me waiting. When I rearranged the blanket, I was shocked to look down and realize that there were blonde hairs all over it.
Thoroughly creeped out, and suddenly mad at the girl from in picture, I threw the blanket off, hugged a pillow, and tried not to feel stupid.
By Tuesday, I had heard from Brody twice since I’d been over. I had called to let him know I got home okay, and then he’d called on Monday for a conversation that lasted less than five minutes.
I didn’t really think that anything was too wrong. I thought maybe he was busy with his grown-up job. I was busy at college, partaking of private Christian school pseudo-bliss. I had a knack back then for carefully ignoring the parts of something that made me feel bad, so I was under the impression that the weekend had been really fun. I replayed a few parts of it over and over, and didn’t think about the rest. I put the paperweight Dramatic Interp trophy in the console of my car below the parking brake. It slid around when I drove, reminding me that I had won something. Even if it was a ridiculously small tournament.
Then I got an email.
I was sitting in the computer lab on the third floor of the Bible Building.
I think maybe things are moving just a little too fast for me. I think it may be that I just didn't realize it. I am just overwhelmed by all of this, you know. First of all I feel like trash for what happened the other night. Yeah that. That isn't me and I don't want to become that. I am very close to God and I betrayed him. He has placed an anointing on my life and I am not going to screw that up. You are probably thinking I am just like those people at your school. But I am not. I am not "religious". I have a relationship not a religion. God is going to do great things through me and I will not screw that up. He has done great things for me. He is the reason I am what I am today. I am sorry I gave you the wrong impression of me. But Hell is hot, and I will not be stupid enough to throw my calling away and end up there. I am sure you think I am nuts. I don't know your beliefs, or even if you believe anything, but I have morals and standards. I blew all of that out of the water, since we have been talking. Second, I don't think I have recovered from the whole ex-girlfriend thing. I still think about her. I try to talk all big and bad, but its still there. I can't help it. Maybe I’m supposed to be alone or something. God let me know last night while I was praying that he had more for me to do before I get my helpmate. I am sorry for everything. You probably think I am insane now. But that's ok. I can live with that a whole lot easier that being in Hell for eternity. This life is a vapor and what we do here is how we will be judged. So I am going to live as clean as I can. To me life isn't about sex. That's how I go without it. God looks down on sexual sin. It's worse than many sins. It's in the Bible. I just want to be pure and clean. I have already asked for forgiveness.Anyway, I have not been doing what I am supposed to be doing so I am going to get back at it.
When I finished reading I felt like my skin was on fire and freezing cold at the same time. It was like each line I read wrapped my stomach in a tighter and tighter knot until I suddenly felt like I was either going to explode or throw up. I opened a response email, then stared at the blank page for a few seconds before closing it. There were only a couple of other people in the lab because it was 9 o’clock at night. So I stood up and walked toward the door shaking, feeling like someone had knocked all of the air out of me.
I don’t know if you’ve ever gotten an email like this, but it hurts more than just words coming out of someone’s mouth. I reviewed this email many times since he sent it, and every time it stung with the same intensity.
I drove home from campus that night and slept in my own bed at home. I told my mom a less damning version of what had happened, and she told me it was ridiculous. But I was just so confused, and so hurt. I snuggled into my twin bed in my room with the sky blue walls and tropical themed border trying to feel safe and whole. I cried a lot, but I was mad, too.
Oh, and occasionally I laughed a little bit. “Helpmate?” Really? I’m sorry, but I was not designed to be anyone’s helpmate. It sounded a little bit like help, as in hired help.
But other than that one little laugh, there was mostly angry crying. I had really liked Brody! My mom even liked Brody! He had so much going for him. But I guess he was under the impression that it was all going so well for him because he stayed away from people like me.
And then there was that. People like me? What was I? I wasn’t some closed minded private Christian school bimbo, I wasn’t a slut, I was confused. Did he think I was a slut?
I cried because I thought his letter was right, I cried because I thought he was an idiot, and I cried because he had, in essence, said he would go to hell if he stayed with me.
“How many people can say someone’s said that about them!?” I said aloud to the seventies style popcorn ceiling of my bedroom.
Even as I was driving back to school the next day, I could still feel the shock wash over me every time I thought of it. And the anger! He had been the one to suggest I come over. He had been the one who started all the goofy awkward what-if stuff. He had picked me up off the couch! It was him! It takes two to tango, sure, but how could he sit there and condemn me and not even care!?
“Self absorbed, arrogant, right-wing asshole!” I yelled at my dashboard.
And then I looked up and noticed that the car 20 feet in front of me was stopped in the middle of the lane.
I pumped the brakes but I could tell it was no good. The bumper with its bright red tail lights were hurtling toward me as my tires screamed. I heard the paperweight trophy slide and smack the side of the console just before I heard the cruch. Which was deafening, a loud popping noise. And the air was suddenly filled with white smoky powder. Had I broken my nose!? I couldn’t see anything, and I couldn’t stop coughing, but my car had finally stopped.
And that’s how a ham sandwich left me confused about who I was, and stranded on the campus of a private Christian school that I hated.
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