Purity (20 page)

They might know Bible verses and hymns and stories and history, but no one can ever really understand God—no one can ever really know why he took my mom, why he lets bad things happen to good people. And no one can really know what I need from God, or what God needs from me—more prayer, more faith, more devotion… no one really knows.

Dad
might
get it—he’d be the closest to understanding, I think. He knows what it was like to lose her. Is the promise that “Mom’s in a better place” enough for him, or does he question, too? I wonder what he’d say if I told him all this, how no one can answer my questions, how I’m not always sure what I believe. Would he side with the Princess Ball committee, the church, Pastor Ryan? Or with me?

I wouldn’t ask him to choose sides, though. I don’t want him in the middle of me and anyone—it might hurt him, and I don’t want to hurt him. Not because of the Promises.

Because I’m his daughter.

I still need the Promises. I still need them to grab onto. But maybe not being able to grab onto God isn’t the worst thing after all. Maybe I’m not meant to grab on. Maybe I’m
meant to grab on later, or onto a whole different religion, or quietly. Maybe I’ll never be able to go to a church and believe like everyone else does, and maybe I’ll still be angry sometimes, still feel like things were unfair. Or maybe someday I’ll have jewelry with a religious icon on it.

And maybe—no, not maybe,
definitely—
Jonas was right about more than just Anna. She had sex for her own reasons. Mona believes for her own reasons. Mom wore a cross necklace for her own reasons. Even Pastor Ryan is a pastor for his own reasons.

And I doubt. For reasons no one else can understand. And maybe that’s okay.

The doorbell rings at seven thirty Saturday night. I take a moment to run my fingers through my hair and straighten my shirt before going down. I went all out and bought the bra that matches the panties Ruby got me. If that’s not dedication, I don’t know what is.

“Shelby? There’s a boy here for you,” my dad’s voice rings up the stairs. I cringe—Dad meeting my one-night stand wasn’t exactly in the game plan. There’s nothing to be done about it now, though, I guess. I swallow and head to the door.

Dad and Jeffery are talking about the weather, which seems so ridiculously appropriate that I almost laugh. When they hear me on the stairs, they both turn to look at me. I look at Dad first—he’s smiling, looks carefree, like he’s not the tiniest bit worried about the boy at the door being around his daughter. I feel guilty about my plans for a flash of a moment, a moment filled with images of both Dad’s and Jonas’s faces.

I have to keep the Promises. I have to do this.

Even as I think it, though, I know this isn’t just about the Promises anymore. I want to do this because I’m curious. I want to do this because I dare God to make me feel guilty for
it. I have my own reasons for doubting and believing and having sex, and
I want to do this.

I reach the door. Jeffery is smiling in a way that’s so genuine and friendly, I swear he’s three seconds from being cast in a Disney Channel movie.

“Have a nice time!” Dad says brightly, and I hold back a cringe.

“Thanks, Dad. See you later tonight,” I answer. Jeffery and I step out the door and walk toward his car—it’s an old Jeep, dark green and covered in a layer of dust.

“So,” Jeffery says as we reach the end of my driveway. “Did Ruby tell you about my shameless crush on you?”

I laugh a little nervously. “She didn’t put it that way, exactly, but that’s nice to hear.”

Jeffery runs ahead to the passenger side to open the door for me. The car’s interior is cleaner than the outside and reminds me a little bit of Lucinda—maybe it’s the stale french fries smell or the hard, aged feel of all the surfaces.

Jeffery drives slow, stopping completely at all the stop signs and never running a yellow light. It’s almost eight by the time we arrive at Harry’s for dinner.

“So,” Jeffery says as our food arrives, “who is the guy you’re always sitting with, if he’s not your boyfriend?”

Damn, and I was doing a halfway decent job of not thinking about Jonas. Kinda. Sorta.

Okay, so I haven’t been able to get him out of my head.

“Just a friend,” I answer quickly. “Sort of. We’re fighting at the moment, actually.”

Jeffery raises his eyebrows. “Anything serious?”

“Not really. He just kept some secrets from me. Hurt my feelings, that’s all.”

“Ah. Maybe he had a reason?”

“A bad one,” I answer, and Jeffery laughs.

“I hope you guys make up, though. For the Biscuit’s sake. You two are, like, half of our business,” he says, then eats three french fries at once.

There’s nothing wrong with Jeffery; in fact, I can see myself developing a crush on him given enough time. By the time dinner and the movie that follows are over, it’s getting late but we still haven’t entirely run out of things to talk about. It’s trivial stuff, little things—favorite color, which countries you’ve been to, any siblings—but it’s nice in that regard. Nothing complicated, nothing that requires too much emotion or thought. When we pull into his driveway, he stares at me for a moment.

“My mom and stepdad are in Maui,” he explains. “I was thinking that you could come in for a while, if you’re interested.” I nod and climb out of the Jeep before he can run around to open the passenger-side door.

He gives me the tour of the house, introduces me to his Labrador. But we speak in hushed voices, bedroom voices, and it isn’t long before he suggests we watch TV on the couch. I draw closer and closer to him as the show goes on until, finally, he inhales and turns toward me. He kisses my cheek softly, tenderly even. I turn and find his lips on mine.

He’s a good kisser—maybe the best I’ve ever kissed. I
lean back on the couch, pulling him down over me. Clothing falls to the floor in piles, the TV irregularly lighting up our bodies. I grab a condom from my purse and, without asking, he rips it open.

He puts the condom on and leans over me, and then everything tightens for a moment, a strange, dizzying feeling that makes me inhale.

I stare at the ceiling and bite my lip as Jeffery begins to move back and forth—it isn’t painful, isn’t pleasurable, isn’t anything, to be honest. It’s like shaking hands or waving or something else sterile, almost businesslike. Jeffery’s weight is heavy on me, and I wrap my arms around his shoulders, not because I love him, but because it makes it easier to breathe.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

And then I think of the one person I probably shouldn’t be thinking about while having sex: Mom.

I think about the Promises, I think about her hands, I think about the headstone with the
love
phrase. I think about the french fries, and how they were cold when she finally got them but she tried to eat them anyway. I think about her in heaven with God, her in heaven without God. About how I realize now that I’ll never be able to pinpoint God, to grab onto him and blame him. All I can do is grab onto love—the certainty that wherever Mom is, she still loves me. That Dad still loves me. That I will forever love both of them.

Jeffery is breathing heavy, murmuring something in my ear. There’s still no pain, just pressure near my stomach and a gentle, whirling sensation. It makes me feel alive, makes me
feel
present
the same way running or swimming or inhaling a summer breeze has a way of making me feel that way. He kisses me, and for a moment, I wonder if this is how Jonas would’ve kissed me, if I’d ever given him the chance. I immediately know that the answer is no—Jonas is the closest one to me, the one I grab onto when the ground crumbles. He’d kiss me like
that
, not like someone I just met.

He’d kiss me like someone who loves me. And I’d kiss him back the same way. It’s so clear, so obvious, that I can’t believe I didn’t realize it before: I’ve been in love with Jonas for years.

Promise Two: Love as much as possible.

Jeffery shudders, grips my shoulders tightly, and it’s over. He breathes heavily and pulls himself off me, then gives me a kind smile, but my mind is too cluttered to return it.

I forgot about Promise Two.
But it was the most important, because no matter what else happens, the love is still there. Love isn’t a question of faith, even if God is. I thought it was such an easy Promise, such an obvious one, but this whole time, I never realized what it really meant.

“You okay?” Jeffery asks breathlessly, sliding off the couch beside me.

“I’m fine,” I say. Immediately after saying it, I realize it’s true.

“You’re sure?” he asks.

“Yeah.” I get up and hunt for my clothes in the darkness. Silence filters over the room, not awkward but heavy and still. I hurriedly pull on my shirt.

“Um… can I tell you something?” Jeffery says, his voice
a little quiet. I turn to him, surprised by his tone. “My father died. Six months ago.”

I sit down beside him, unsure how to respond—how is it that I, of all people, don’t know what to say to him? No wonder everyone babbles when I tell them about Mom. Appropriate responses are hard to come by.

Jeffery continues, “Ruby told me that this was about the sex and said it had something to do with your mom dying.”

“She what?” I ask.

Jeffery shrugs and sits up, looking sheepish. “After Dad died, I drove all the way to Arizona and back. Didn’t sightsee, didn’t do touristy stuff, didn’t stay in Arizona more than about eight hours. I get it,” he says. “Grief kind of takes weird forms sometimes. I just wanted to tell you because I don’t think you’re weird for… you know.”

I smile. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Jeffery says. “Though I wasn’t making up that crush on you, so I’m a little worried you’re going to think I’m a man whore now, sleeping with you on the first date, even if I know it’s what you wanted.”

I laugh. “No, not at all. You were a real gentleman, honestly.”

“So… you might be interested in a second date with this gentleman?” he asks.

I look down. Jeffery’s face falls. “It’s nothing you did,” I say. “It’s just that… I think I’m in love with someone else.”

“Wow, you’re a real heartbreaker,” Jeffery says, but he smiles a little.

“Sorry I… kinda used you for sex,” I tell Jeffery glumly.

He shrugs. “I’m not too upset. Hey, it’s not a bad way to get used.”

*   *   *   *

I’m in a little bit of a daze by the time I make it home—not because I’m sad, not because I’m confused, but because it’s simply… over. All the worrying, all the stressing, the lists, the hype… it’s done.

And the act itself wasn’t that life-changing—well, the
sex
itself wasn’t. Everything else was.

I wave to Jeffery and slip into the house. Luckily, Dad is fast asleep in front of the television. He doesn’t stir when I walk in, and as per usual he is surrounded by paperwork. I sneak over and pick up his watery glass from the coffee table and turn the television off. As I reach for the remote, I see the paper he was last studying. The title splayed across the top reads:

FATHER QUESTIONNAIRE

I haven’t finished mine—didn’t even plan on finishing it, to be honest. But Dad was going over his? Did he finish it? I wonder… I glance between Dad and the paper, then slowly, quietly pull it away from him. I leave the glass in the kitchen and head up to my bedroom. My desk lamp is on, casting the room in pale violet light the color of its shade. I fall into
my bed with my clothes on and look at the paper in my hands.

I hesitate. I shouldn’t read it without his knowing.

But I unfold his questionnaire anyway, then flatten it across my pillow.

Her full name, written in such clear and precise script that it looks a little bit like a child practicing his own signature. There’s a thick dot of ink at the end of the final “e” on our last name, like he paused to admire her name for a moment after writing it.

True enough, until this ball madness started.

I roll my eyes at the question. Who would put “no” for that?