Heartless (22 page)

Even the thought of that made my heart hurt. He
had
lost his father, too, so he knew a bit of the pain of losing a parent. But his father had probably died of a heart attack or something normal, not a mass suicide that filled newspapers for months, or that brought shame on a town and dozens of families. But still…If I loved him, would those details alter my love?

“I don’t know,” I said to Miranda. “I guess I’d want him to trust my love enough to tell me anything.”

“Can you imagine that Josh just might love you that much?”

“He hasn’t said the words or anything. It’s still pretty early…”

“Is it? Isn’t he taking it slow because you told him to?”

I laughed. “So did you!”

Miranda laughed with me. “So I did, so I did. Well, it appears you two have established your own pace, and it seems to be working. You’ve made a lot of progress lately, Heather. Opening up to love can really speed up healing. It’s obvious to me, even if it isn’t quite to you, that you’re beginning to trust yourself.”

I nodded. That was true.

“You said to take things one step at a time. It feels like I’m traveling at light speed with Josh.”

“You’ve gone out with him how many times? Twice?”

I nodded. The impromptu picnic didn’t really count. Inwardly, I cringed remembering finding him with Marcie. “I know he’s not a virgin.”

“Does that bother you?”

“No. I’m not either, even though I feel like it sometimes. But his experience makes me feel insecure.”

“Do you want to make love with Josh?”

I blushed and nodded. “Yes.”
“That’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Miranda reached out and took my hand from my lap and held them lightly in hers. “The trauma you experienced with your parents’ death occurred at almost the exact time of your first sexual intercourse experience in the cornfield with Ethan. Somehow the experiences have become linked, and I think this is what’s at the root of your trepidation. Do you trust Josh?”

“Actually, I do. He said he wants to take me away for the weekend.”

“Oh?”

“For my birthday. Do you think it’s too soon?”

“Do you?”

“I
want
to go…”

“But…?”

“He’ll have… expectations. I haven’t been with anyone since my first time with Ethan.”

She nodded, understanding my trepidation. But suddenly I didn’t anymore. I mean, I understood my fears, I’d carried them around with me for a long time, but I no longer understood why I was letting something from so long ago still determine what I was willing to do
now
. I had been waiting a long time to start my life over. And it
had
started, and was moving fast, with Josh. I didn’t want to hold back anymore.

“You’re afraid Josh will want to have sex?” said Miranda.

“Not exactly afraid…” I suppose I was, but I was also excited.

“So you’re ready for that?”

“My body seems to be ready.” I sat at the edge of my seat, rocking just a little bit. I felt a lot of nervous energy trapped inside me. How would I feel with Josh? Would he care that I wasn’t a virgin? I was certainly a virgin when it came to love. I’d discovered my satisfaction on my own these last few years. I knew where to press and slide, how to circle and rub, to feel the hot rush of release that led to a warm, melting peacefulness deep inside and a sweet sensation emanate across every inch of my skin. But sharing that with another person?

“I don’t know. I guess I’m worried.”

“About what?”

“About the actual moment. You know. When he goes inside.
In me
.”

I had tried to picture it many times. I’d fantasized about it, but fantasies were different. I knew there would be a moment, a moment of no turning back, when he would physically enter me. I craved the moment after, the feeling of him actually being inside me. I wanted that. But that moment before, when separation turned to joining, I wasn’t sure how I would react to that. I was afraid old trauma would resurface and I’d react… I don’t know… I was afraid I would ruin it all somehow.

“I know your memories of that last day with Ethan in the cornfield are still hazy. We could try another hypnosis session, if you like, but I’m wondering if maybe you need to do something else too, something more concrete, in order to take this next step.”

“What do you mean?”

“Is there anything you could do, symbolically, to let go of the past and step into the future?” She leaned forward in her chair, watching me intently.

“Is there anything you’re hanging on to that, maybe, by getting rid of, would give you a greater sense of confidence to move forward?”

I looked down at my hands. I had purposely left all my possessions in Wisconsin, so I didn’t have anything from home. And I had tried getting rid of my memories, but that hadn’t worked all that well.

“I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”

“Even thinking about it, and
intending
to let go—not for the sake of rejecting the past, but for allowing for a new future—will help shift things.”

I nodded. Her theory seemed kind of far fetched, but maybe she was beginning to grasp at straws when it came to my case. Maybe she’d done all she could do to help me.

“Heather, you know you can call me anytime, right? A lot of the healing work left for you to do has to come from you now, but I’ll be here if you need me. Anytime. Remember that, okay?”

I nodded again. “Thank you.”

On the drive home I thought about how it would be to carry on in life alone, without Miranda’s weekly help. I imagined going to college, meeting new people, and how I’d have to appear confident—faking it, until I made it. I wanted Josh to stay in my life, but there was no guarantee of that. As Miranda had said, we can’t be sure who in life will hurt us. That was the risk of living. Of loving. And risks brought consequences, not all of them good. Wasn’t that at the root of why I was seeing her? Of what brought me here to LA? Of what killed my parents in the end? I hadn’t been able to predict that someone I admired and looked up to would hurt me, would alter my life irrevocably, would leave me broken, with a hollowed-out heart…

By the time I pulled into the driveway, I had thought of one thing I could let go of in order to really leave the past behind and allow a better future to unfold.

My step was light as I started up the stairs, but by the time I got to my room my legs felt like lead. I opened my closet door and reached up to the top shelf. I pushed aside a few sweaters and felt around for the shoebox. Slowly, I pulled it down.

I sat on my bed. Sighing, I lifted the lid of the box. A newspaper clipping, half of its headline visible, sat on top.

…
CULT SUICIDE
…

I unfolded the paper.

MASS CULT SUICIDE SHOCKS TOWN OF FIELDING, WI

Pastor James R. Guthrie, evangelical leader of the New Christ Ascension Church, led his parishioners to a ritual death on Sunday. Eighty four members, at least a third of them women and children, burned to death in a gas fed house fire just outside the farming town of Fielding, WI. Fire Chief, Ross Taft, confirmed the fire was not accidental, stating that, “the perimeter walls of the farmhouse were saturated with gasoline, the entire building was engulfed in a matter of minutes.” A charismatic leader, Pastor J.R. Guthrie believed that he and his congregation had been called to do God’s work in another realm.

Asked how he might have convinced so many innocent people to die with him, one member, who was absent the day of the fire due to extenuating family circumstances and would only be identified as Paul M, said Guthrie was a deeply spiritual man, with a “conviction in the word of God and his power to receive it that was unshakable and wonderfully comforting to the congregation.” Through his tears, Paul M said, “We would have followed him anywhere. We loved him that much. And he loved us.”

Forensic reports suggest that members ingested a sedative substance, either in food or drink, prior to the fire….

I couldn’t read anymore. I set that article aside. I had half a dozen others like it, plus police reports, social services letters, and obituaries. I glanced at the obituaries for my parents. I ran my finger over their smiling faces, feeling hot tears curling over the lower lip of my eye and sliding slowly over my cheek and down my chin.

Raymond Peter Redmond is survived by his daughter and sister-in-law…Will be remembered for his accommodating nature, contributions to the local movie theater, … and 20 years of civil service with the Wisconsin Water Department.

I didn’t bother to read my mother’s. I couldn’t bear to read the lying words “loving wife and mother” one more time.

I returned all the papers to the box, replaced the lid, and carried this concrete symbol of the past downstairs.

I dumped the whole box in the trash.

After that, I ate cereal for dinner, and then finished off the Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. My stomach was full but the rest of me felt empty.

When the phone rang, my whole mood changed when I heard Josh’s voice on the end of the line.

“How was your day?”

“Fine, except for missing you.” I carried the phone to the couch and grabbed a pillow to hug. I wished it was Josh I was hugging.

“I missed you, too,” he said. “I thought about doubling back after Leo left but then I remembered you had some appointment, so I headed home.”

“I wish you were here now,” I murmured, leaning back against the thick couch cushions and tucking the pillow between my knees.

“Oh?…And what would you do with me if I was there?…” His voice had dropped to its low and sexy timbre.

“I’m on the couch now,” I said, trying to match his sexy tone, but feeling kind of foolish as I tried. Where was beach-girl when I needed her?

“Are you referring to the couch that has the power to transport you to an otherworldly pleasure-realm?”

His word choice threw me back to the newspaper article.
Push it away, be present.
There was beach-girl. She was right, I had to push all that out of my mind and be right here, in this moment. I slid down further along the couch so I was almost lying down.

“I wish you were lying here with me,” I said, breathing softly into the phone. Beach-girl stuck around. She liked this.

Josh coughed. “Are you lying down now?”

“Mmmhmmm,” I shoved the pillow away and let my fingers caress my belly.

“And what are you doing now?” said Josh, his voice catching a little.

“Touching myself.” It was really beach-girl who said that, and she didn’t see any need to be specific about
where
I was touching myself. She knew where Josh’s mind would wander.

“Oh, Heather…” It was a hoarse whisper, and then I heard shuffling, as if Josh were moving.

“What are you doing?” I said.

“Going to my room. Where I can talk to you
privately
.”

I smiled. Josh settled himself somewhere. On his bed?

“Tell me what you’re doing now,” he said.

“Tell me what
you’re
doing first.”

“Uh…well, I’m lying on my bed. On my back, and…Um, Heather, are we doing what I think we’re doing?” He whispered this last part like it was a secret.

Beach-girl was making me nod, but I felt butterflies in my stomach. I didn’t know what I was doing. I had no idea.
Sure you do
, said beach-girl. It’s just like when you’re alone, but you give him a play by play. I felt nervous. I threw the ball back into Josh’s court.

“What do you think we’re doing?”

He hesitated before answering. Maybe he was embarrassed, too? I heard him take a deep breath.

“When you told me you were lying on the couch, and wishing I was there with you, I started remembering being on that couch with you and I…” He cleared his throat. “Certain parts of me got kind of
excited
. And extremely hard…”

I felt a flare of heat between my legs. “Like so hard that you had to go lie down on your bed to get comfortable?”

“Yeah, like that. And my jeans felt kind of tight so I had to undo the button, and even pull down the zipper…”

My fingers were now wrestling with the button of my shorts.
Good girl
, said beach-girl.

“And then what?” I said, breathing harder with my efforts to slide my shorts off one-handed.

“Then, well… I’m not really sure what to do next. What should I do next, Heather?”

I got my shorts down to my knees and then I wiggled my legs until I’d worked them down to my ankles. “If I were you, if I was there
with
you, I’d make sure you got
real
comfortable, got your jeans out of the way and everything, just like I got my shorts out of my way, so I could put my hand, my fingers…”

I cupped myself with my hand and felt my growing dampness with my fingertips. I sighed into the phone. There was more movement on the other end of the line.

“Done,” said Josh. “Aaahh…” He sighed loudly. “Oh man, I wish you were here or I was there.”

“Fake it,” I whispered suggestively. “Imagine that’s
my
hand sliding up and down your skin. Feel it?”

“Uh, huh. Yeah…”

“You feel so good, Josh. Hard and hot. I can’t help it, I have to stroke a little faster.”

“Yes, do it. And my fingers are sliding up your inner thigh…” I touched myself where I imagined his fingers might roam. “And now I’m at the top of your inner thigh. Oh, Heather, you’re so wet…”