Shelter Me (6 page)

Vaguely, I started to become aware that someone else was in the room again. I looked up, slowly. It was Brandon.

"I'm sorry, man," he said, sitting down.

"No," I said. "You're right."

He just shrugged.

"What do you think I should do? I honestly don't have the first idea how to start...getting over someone."

"You want to know what I honestly think?" Brandon raised his eyebrows a fraction of an inch. "Get a job."

CHAPTER SIX

Marissa

"I'm...sort of in a bind," Mark said to me, as he handed me a cup of steaming cider from the refreshment table.

I looked at him, taking a cautious sip. It was too hot, and it burned my tongue slightly going down.

"I was supposed to have someone from school helping out with the younger kids at VBS tonight, but they bailed on me. Do you think you could step in?"

"Okay," I said. I blew lightly on my cider.
 

"Great," he said. "I think it'll be fun for you."

I wasn't sure that mattered, one way or the other.

Mark had been "courting" me for a few weeks now, taking me out to lunch and dinner and talking to me about his future plans - what would be our future plans, for our life together. The day my dad first told me about it, Mark had called the house shortly afterwards, asking me for the answer I hadn't been ready to give my dad. I said yes, of course. What other answer was there? Mark had sounded happy, and then told me he'd see me at church.

Since then, things had been...strange. He looked at me all the time, and I could feel his eyes always raking over me like I already belonged to him. It gave me goosebumps, and I wasn't sure if they were good, or bad.
 

On our outings he talked almost incessantly, which was fine with me. I didn't have much to contribute. He'd had a full life, going on several long-term missions to India when he was about my age, but he told me he'd known his calling since he was a kid. At one point he actually did stop long enough for me to clear my throat and speak.

"I used to think I wanted to be a pastor," I said, softly, trying to make a connection.

"Well." He laughed a little, patting my hand where it rest on the table. "
You
couldn't be one. Of course. But you could always - you know, lead a Sunday school or something. Or a girl's group."

I stared down at my plate, feeling my face grow hot. "Why not?"

"Mari, come on. You know why. It says so in the scriptures."

I knew exactly what he was referring to, in first Timothy.
A woman should learn in quietness and full submission. I do not permit a woman to teach or to assume authority over a man; she must be quiet.
I'd spent a long time puzzling over that verse, struggling with its tone of cold dismissal. "She must be quiet." I felt that way enough without God reinforcing it.

Some people preferred to write it off as the Timothy's opinion, but others took it very seriously. Evidently, Mark was from the second group.

I spent the rest of that lunch in silence, listening to him talk about nothing at all.

***

"Is everybody ready to have some fun?" Mark shouted into his microphone. The kids jumped up and down, shrieking at the top of their lungs.
 

Vacation Bible School was historically much more "Bible" and "school" than "vacation," but he was actually doing a pretty good job of getting the kids to have some fun with it. As I watched him smiling and waving his arms around, I decided he'd make a good father someday.

Someday. Maybe.

We hadn't discussed the subject. I assumed that Mark hadn't brought up the subject because it would cause him to "stumble." I was hideously embarrassed at the thought of him - or any man, for that matter - desiring me so much that vague notions of future lovemaking would send him down a spiral of sin, but it wouldn't be the first time. At lunch, we'd been talking and joking about doing laundry and I'd pointed out that someday I'd probably be doing all of his laundry. It was just an innocent joke, but his eyes had gone dark.

"Stop it, Mari," he'd said. "Don't talk about things like that. It takes me too far, to think about us living together."

I recoiled, feeling guilty and ashamed. Afterwards, I couldn't believe I'd been so thoughtless as to bring it up. Of course, I should have known that talking about us living together, and being domestic, would make him think about sex. He'd already told me that he couldn't lie in bed too long in the morning when he woke up, or he'd start to think about waking up next to me. The only way to avoid temptation, he'd said, was to roll out of bed and onto his knees to pray.
 

I, on the other hand, would lie in bed at night thinking of him being so inflamed with lust that all he could do was cry out to God for help. And I'd touch myself until my body shuddered and clenched with pleasure. I never felt bad about it, even though I knew I was supposed to. Somehow, I couldn't quite believe that God cared what I did alone in my bed.

I shook myself back to the present. How on earth would Mark react if he knew I was having these kinds of thoughts in the presence of the VBS kids? I blushed deeply, hoping that the sudden flush of color would pass for excitement at the day's activities.

"Okay, everybody, pick a partner!" Mark was grinning, but I could see the beads of sweat starting to trickle down the sides of his face. Once we were out of the kids' earshot, he'd start complaining about how hot it was.
 

The kids squealed and ran in circles around each other, reaching out and grabbing hands and eventually pairing up. I watched, with more than the usual interest, stepping down to walk through the crowd and check that every kid
did
actually have a partner. And sure enough, as I reached the back of the crowd, I saw a little boy standing alone with a lost, vaguely panicked expression on his face. I knelt down to face him.

"Hey, Micah," I said, looking at his name tag. "I can't find a partner, will you pair up with me?"

His face broke into a little smile. He was still young enough, I thought, that he might actually believe me and not just see this as an act of charity.

"Sure," he said.
 

It was a singing and clapping game, just like I suspected. I didn't really know how it went, but neither did Micah. I suspected this wasn't the first time he had been left without a partner.

The rest of the day went a little more smoothly. When the parents finally started arriving and filtering away, I went and sat down in one of the tents, grabbing a tepid water bottle from one of the coolers. The ice had melted long ago.

"What was that all about this morning?" Mark asked, sitting down next to me. I started a little - I hadn't seen him walk in.

"What do you mean?" I knew exactly what he meant, but I couldn't imagine why he was bringing it up.

"Doing the game with that kid," he said. "I needed you up on stage, leading."

"Well, I'm sorry. You didn't say anything."

"I didn't think I had to," he protested. His voice still had that unnaturally calm tone that he never seemed to break from, no matter how obviously agitated he got. "I brought you here to help me."

"I
was
helping," I said, quietly. It honestly hadn't occurred to me, and wouldn't for a million years, that I'd done something wrong by trying to get Micah involved in the game. "He didn't have a partner."

"Mari, he's never going to learn how to find them himself, if you just coddle him. He needs to get over his shyness."

My heart clenched in my chest. "It doesn't really work that way," I said. "He needs help."

"Listen," said Mark. "I've worked with a lot of kids. I know a momma's boy when I see one. He needs to learn independence, and he's not going to as long as you're there to stand in as a surrogate mom."
 

"There was an odd number of kids, Mark," I said, hearing my voice get more forceful without my permission. "Am I supposed to just ignore him?"

"People get left out sometimes," said Mark, his irritation finally seeping into his voice. "It's a reality of life. He might as well get used to it now."

"You're being ridiculous," I said. "If there's any place where he's not going to get left out, shouldn't it be here?"

He shook his head, and I could see the expression cross his face that I'd grown to hate so much - that we're done here expression. "Look, we're both exhausted, let's talk about this another time, okay?"

The thing was, "another time" meant "never." And I knew that. But I just nodded and shut my mouth.

***

Before I turned off the light, I reached into my bedside drawer, as I had for the last five years, and popped a tiny white pill out of its pink plastic case. I swallowed it down with a sip of water.

Nobody outside of my family knew that I was on birth control. I'd had the prescription since just after puberty, when I'd collapsed and lost consciousness in the kitchen while I was trying to set the table. My flow had been unusually heavy, but at that age, I didn't recognize it yet. As it happened, I was experiencing serious blood loss. The doctors put me on the pill to keep it from happening again. I didn't really understand why or how it helped, but I'd been dutifully taking it ever since.

It was simply a part of my routine, and I never gave any thought to the tiny pill's actual purpose. It was just something I took every day, like a vitamin, to stay healthy. But now that I was going to be married, it needed to be addressed - didn't it?

Eternal Grace didn't seem to have an official doctrine on birth control, but it was impossible not to notice that most of the families in our town had at least four or five kids. And with Mark and I about to be newlyweds, it was certainly an expected first step. I couldn't think of a single Hobb's Vale marriage that hadn't resulted in a baby within a year - and less than nine months, in some cases. But who was counting?
 

I clutched my book to my chest. Was I ready for this? A child, another person growing inside my body? Becoming a mother? It didn't feel real, but I knew it would, all too soon.

I couldn't help but think back to the poor little kid at VBS, standing all alone in the crowd. Mark's assessment of him -
momma's boy
.

There was a thick feeling in my throat. I swallowed, with difficulty.

As it happened, I was due for my annual check-up soon. My mom usually handled all my appointments, but since I was going to be a married woman soon, it only made sense for me to start doing it myself. I could ask if they thought it was safe for me to stop taking the pill, since I was getting married.

I wasn't sure what answer I was hoping for.

***

"I'm so proud of you, honey." My mom patted my arm. "Taking the initiative like this."

Tinny piano music filtered through the waiting room speakers. I couldn't help but notice I was the only woman there who was accompanied by someone other than a spouse. But Mom had to drive me anyway, and she certainly wasn't going to be waiting in the car.

I just shrugged. It was pretty much a fifty-fifty chance she'd either be overly impressed with me for making my own appointment, or irritated that I was "stepping on her toes." So this was definitely the better option. But I still felt awkward accepting her gushing complements. Didn't normal adults make appointments all the time? I had to get into the habit eventually. Something told me that Mark wouldn't be calling my gynecologist on my behalf.

"Remember," my mom said, after a long silence. "If you have any questions about...you know, about things, you can ask the doctor. She'll be happy to help you. There's no need to be embarrassed."
 

When the nurse finally called me back, I saw my mom twitch like she wanted to follow me in there, but she thankfully restrained herself. My very first pelvic exam, shortly after the incident that had put me on the pill in the first place, was actually the first time that she'd let me go into a doctor's office alone.
 

The nurse asked me a barrage of questions, congratulating me when I mentioned that I wouldn't be single much longer. When she noted on my chart that I was still a virgin, she asked me if I had any questions before becoming sexually active for the first time.

"No," I said. "I don't think so."

She assured me that they'd be there for me if I did, and I thanked her.
 

After I changed into my paper gown, it wasn't long before the doctor came in. She smiled warmly and shook my hand, exchanging the usual pleasantries as she scanned over my chart. The exam was as unpleasant as always, but after it was done, she asked me if I had any questions and I must have hesitated just long enough.

"I heard you're getting married soon," she said. "That must be exciting."

I nodded.

"If you want to ask me anything, you know - anything at all - you can."

I swallowed carefully. "I did have one question," I said, not looking at her.

"Sure," said the doctor, leaning forward. "Try me."

"You know, I've been..." I took a deep breath. "I've been on the pill for a while now. Because of my...problem."

"Right. I see that in your chart." She looked down at the papers, and then up at me. "But now that you're married, you're thinking of going off the pill?"

I chewed on my lower lip. "I was wondering if it was...safe."

The doctor closed my chart, and looked up at me. "Marissa," she said, with a warm smile. "Are you thinking of starting a family?"

I shifted uncomfortably, tugging at the hem of my paper gown. Confronted with the question, face-to-face, I couldn't push aside my doubts and fears about becoming a mother. About Mark becoming a father. I kept my eyes on the floor, but it must have shown on my face.

"I'll say this." The doctor seemed to be considering her words carefully. "Usually, when someone has an episode like you did - we call it menorrhagia - it doesn't necessarily happen at regular intervals. We tend to use hormonal birth control as a treatment for as long as you want to take it, but if you like, you can go off the pill and see if your body's behaving normally. It's not dangerous, as long as you keep a close eye on things and come to the hospital right away if you notice that you're losing an unusual amount of blood. But, Marissa..." The doctor took a deep breath. "The thing is..."