The Good Lie (16 page)

“Correct.”

“So if someone told us that you had
been on birth control from the time you were thirteen, that would be a lie?”

“Yes,” I answered easily.  I admit
I was slow to understand.  Greaves nodded a few more times as he flipped
through the sheets of legal pad.  “One moment, Your Honor.”  He traced his
finger down the page until he found the words he was looking for.

He peered at me over the top of his
half glasses.  “Do you know a young woman named Tessa Blake?”

My face went slack.  Cold penetrated
my bones.  I stiffened and stared at my tormentor.  Now, finally, I understood
exactly where he was going.

That bastard was going to get me.

A Promise Made

The banner above the stage read,
A
PROMISE MADE, A PROMISE KEPT
.   It hung behind the choir, strung from the
ceiling speakers by bright yellow cording.

It was a Saturday afternoon, bright
and hot with summer, and there were a dozen of us fourteen-year-olds standing
in a column down the center aisle, our parents flanking us on either side.

The girls held bouquets of white
daisies.  Each boy had a white carnation pinned to the pocket of his dress
shirt.

The organist smiled.  I think she
loved these ceremonies as much as weddings.  She lifted her fingers to the keys
and positioned her feet on the pedals and started to play.  The congregation
rose together and sang along.  The twelve of us and our escorts began our slow
procession down the aisle.

Tessa Blake and her parents were in
front of me.  She was my best friend.  I had known her since first grade.  Even
though we attended different schools, I spent more time with her than with any
other girl.  We saw each other at church at least three times a week, and slept
over at each other’s houses a minimum of twice a month.

As we marched up the aisle—step,
pause, step, pause, just like Pastor Mills had  taught us—I stared at Tessa’s
bare, tan back.  No surprise, she wasn’t wearing a bra.  While the rest of us
had dressed modestly for the occasion, Tessa wore a white halter  sundress,
dangerously high white sandals, and half a dozen tiny jeweled clips in her
short black hair.  Her eyeshadow was charcoal gray and her lipstick pearly
pink.

I had bought a new dress just for
this day.  It was made of soft rose-colored cotton, gathered slightly at the
bust and waist, the hem falling just below my knee.  My mother had braided my hair—it
was longer then, all the way to middle of my back—and loosened a few auburn
tendrils to wisp around my face.  And even though she didn’t believe in makeup
before high school, my mother made an exception.  After I was dressed she
called me into her bedroom and sat me at her vanity and swept blush onto my
cheeks and painted glimmering rose lipgloss onto my mouth.  She showed me how
to use her eyelash curler and apply mascara.  My green eyes suddenly looked
wider and brighter.  I felt beautiful, if it’s not too vain to say that.  And I
felt ready—grown up.  It must be how other girls that age feel when they go
through their own ceremonies—Confirmations or Bat Mitzvahs or whatever they do.

My parents dressed up, too.  My
mother wore a sea-green silk dress with a long matching jacket.  Even in her
high heels she was an inch shorter than I was.  My father looked tall, gray,
and handsome in his blackwatch suit and the burgundy tie I had given him for
Father’s Day the year before.  We all grinned at each other as we left the
house.  We knew we looked good.

The hymn drew to a close.  Our
procession reached the front of the sanctuary and we fanned out along the
stage, our backs to the congregation, our faces turned to Pastor Mills.  He
smiled and opened his arms wide.  “Welcome, children of God!”

The congregation applauded.  A few
of us had already begun to weep.  This was a day I been waiting for—my
transition out of childhood.  In a few weeks I would be starting high school. 
This was it.

Tessa winked at me.  I smiled and
brushed away a tear.

Pastor Mills continued to hold his
arms aloft, signifying the majesty of the occasion.  He had designed this
ceremony himself a few years ago, and written all the vows.  It was hugely
popular with the parents.

“These children,” Pastor Mills told
his flock, “are here today to affirm their love and commitment to Christ.  In
the presence of their families, their friends, and their fellow Christians,
today they pledge to devote their minds and their bodies to God, to abstain
from any sins of the flesh, and to maintain their purity and innocence until
such day as they are joined with another Christian in holy matrimony.  Loved
ones, today we represent the Body of Christ.  Children, is this your pledge to
us?”

“It is,” we answered in unison.

“Let us pray.”

We all bowed our heads.  I was too
wound up to close my eyes completely.  To my right I saw Danny Blaisdek rolling
nervously back and forth from his heels to the balls of his feet.  His mother
grabbed his arm to stop him.  I sneaked a peek to my left.  Tessa’s eyes were
closed.  Her face was as serene as an angel’s.  She took a quick chomp of gum
she wasn’t supposed to have.

“Amen,” Pastor Mills said, and we
all agreed, “Amen.”

He lifted his head, smiled, and
clapped his hands together once as if preparing for a meal.  “Shall we begin?” 
A few people in the audience tittered.

We turned to face the crowd. 
Pastor Mills started at the end furthest from Tessa and me.  I would pledge
before her.

Pastor Mills laid his hand on the
first girl’s head.  “Margaret Peacock, do you take Christ as your Savior,
forsaking all others, and pledge yourself mind, body, and soul to follow His
teachings and live a pure and holy life?”

Margaret’s voice broke.  “I do.” 
Her parents beamed.

“Do you promise yourself, your
parents, and the Lord Jesus Christ that you will remain pure and untouched
until the day you are lawfully wedded?”

“I do.”

Margaret’s eyes glistened as her
father lifted her hand and her mother slipped the Promise Ring onto the fourth
finger of Margaret’s left hand, where it would remain until a wedding band took
its place.  Margaret’s parents hugged her.

Pastor Mills addressed the crowd.  “You
have borne witness to Margaret’s pledge.   Does anyone know any reason why we
may not accept this child into the body of Christ?  Speak now or forever be
silent.”

“We do not,” the congregation
dutifully answered.

Pastor Mills moved on.

“Do you, Claire Murray, take Christ
as your Savior . . .”

Again I glanced at Tessa.  She
swayed a little bit, dancing to some tune inside her head, completely
unaffected by what was going on.  Her parents stood placidly waiting, staring
at nothing in particular.

My mother gave my fingers a quick
squeeze.  I smiled shyly at her.  My father studied the crowd, searching out
past, present, and future clients who would no doubt congratulate him on such a
special day.

A line of sweat had formed on my
back, and another one above my lip.  My heart was doing something funny,
picking up a beat it hadn’t had before.  Until that moment I hadn’t realized
how I would feel.  Maybe I had purposely not imagined it.  But now the event
was speeding by, and soon I would be called upon to make a choice.  And please,
God, I didn’t want to.

“ . . . You have borne witness to
Julie’s pledge.  Does anyone know any reason why. . .”

Six more people to go.

I have a policy about my prayers. 
I never lie to God.  What’s the point?  He knows everything about me, before I
even do it, so why would you ever bother to hide anything from Him?  And so I
prayed what was true.  I prayed what He already knew.

“Adam Gosshall, do you take Christ
as your Savior . . .”

I tried to catch Tessa’s eye.  I
think she wasn’t looking at me on purpose.  I made a little noise, a cross
between a chirp and a cough.  She glanced in my direction.  I asked her with my
eyes.  She didn’t seem concerned.

Why hadn’t I thought about this
before?  I could have done something.  What kind of friend was I?

“ . . . or forever be silent.”

“We do not,” the congregation
answered.

Sweat gathered in my armpits,
darkening the rose fabric to red.  My mother noticed the pinched look on my
face.  “Everything all right?” she whispered.

I didn’t know what else to do but
nod.

Three more people.

I cleared my throat again.  Tessa
met my panicky eyes.  I lifted my eyebrows, signaling she should do something,
but she blinked lazily and went back to studying her nail polish.

Finally I was out of time.  Pastor
Mills stood in front of me.  He laid his hand on top of my head.

I burst into tears.

I don’t know how brides can stand
it—all those people staring at them while they say vows that come so deeply
from the heart.  How can you look into your almost-husband’s eyes and say how
dearly you love him and how you will always be faithful to him, and not just
cry your guts out?  It’s like watching the best romantic movie you’ve ever seen
in your life, only you’re in it.  Cry, cry, cry.

“Do you, Elizabeth Aimes, promise
yourself, your parents, and the Lord Jesus Christ . . .”

Yes, yes, yes!!  With all my
heart!!  Thank you, God!

I felt something—something I had
read about in the New Testament but never quite understood.

You can be intellectual all you
want—study the Bible as literature—but sometimes an experience touches you, and
you know you’ve finally felt the hand of God.  Not theory, not mystery, but an
actual, true connection.

I don’t know how else to explain
it:  the Spirit of God was there, inside me.  Maybe it was like the early
apostles, feeling that rush of wind as the Holy Spirit filled the room and made
them all start speaking in tongues.  It was like someone reached down my throat
and clutched my heart in her hand and gave it a good squeeze to prove to me she
was there.  Maybe it was my guardian angel.  Maybe it was God himself.  I could
spend the rest of my life trying to understand it.

My mother held my hand while my
father slipped on the ring.  It was platinum band with a platinum rose in the
center.  I ran my finger over the ridges of the flower petals.  My father gave
my hand a gentle squeeze.  I have never seen my parents more proud.

And then.

My moment of grace was over.  Now
it was Tessa’s turn.

Pastor Mills placed his hand on her
head.  Tessa adjusted her shoulders and stood taller, ready to accept the
blessing.

I heard Tessa say, “I do.”  Watched
her parents put on the ring.  Watched them hug her and kiss her and stand happy
beside her ready for that one final step.

“Does anyone know any reason why we
may not accept this child into the body of Christ?”

“We do not.”

And that’s when I raised my hand.

My Secret Life

[1]

I’ve always thought the scariest
movies are where something totally innocent-looking turns out to be demonic.

Like the newborn baby whose joyous
mother holds him in her arms, and the camera zooms in on his sweet little baby
face, and suddenly

EYES.

That’s it.  The eyes popping open,
looking straight at the camera.  And maybe a subtle smile, too.

I FREAK at that.  I scream.  I have
nightmares.  Can’t get it out of my mind.  Because you know right then that
cute cuddly infant is Satan.  And that his parents won’t find out until it’s
too late.

So when Tessa faced me in Pastor
Mills’ office, and her parents and my parents squeezed in there to see why I
had disrupted the ceremony, I knew—KNEW—I was about to give myself nightmares
with the look on Tessa’s face.

It was a combination of perfect
innocence and perfect evil.  Her face was smooth and relaxed, like she didn’t
have a care in the world.  Like she had no idea why her best friend had just
betrayed her like that.

But her eyes.  Her eyes.  They aren’t
even brown, they’re black.  And when she looks at you a certain way—

If a baby’s eyes popped open and
looked at the camera like that, I would have wet all over my chair.

“Elizabeth,” Pastor Mills demanded,
“what’s this all about?”

I turned from Tessa’s eyes.  My own
filled with tears.  “Nothing—I don’t know.”  I covered my face with my hands. 
This was too hard.  I knew I wouldn’t be able to go through with it—why had I
started anything?

“‘I don’t know’ isn’t good enough,
young lady,” Pastor Mills said.

“You ruined our daughter’s day,”
Mrs. Blake said.  “What on earth were you thinking?”

“Lizzie,” my mother tried, “tell
us, honey.  What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” I cried.  “Nothing.  I’m
sorry!  Can’t we just go back out?”

I peeked.  I shouldn’t have.  Tessa
opened her eyes just wide enough to create a border of white all around her
black pupils, making them look like a pair of bullets shot into a wall.

“Yes, Lizzie,” she said calmly, “what’s
going on?”

I shook my head and wiped the back
of my hands under my eyes.  “Nothing.  Forget it.  I’m sorry.”

Pastor Mills moved from his chair
to sit on the edge of his desk.  I wondered if the desk could hold him.  He has
a belly the size of a beach ball.  “Lizzie, I want an answer right now.  Why
did you interrupt my ceremony?  Why did you raise your hand?”

“She obviously just wanted
attention,” Tessa said.  Then she sniffled, and pretty soon was able to work up
a good cry.  “Why did you have to do that?” she wailed.  “Why did you have to
ruin my day?”

I stood up.  “Forget it.  Let’s
just go.”

“It’ll look pretty silly going back
out there,” Pastor Mills said, “don’t you think?”

“I’ll apologize to everyone,” I
said, desperate to make amends.  Desperate to just get out of there.  I was
afraid of Tessa.  I wasn’t sure what she would do.

“First apologize to me,” Tessa
said.  Her mouth was small and tight.

“I’m sorry,” I said.  “Please
forgive me.  Now can we go?”

“Do you know some reason why I
shouldn’t bless Tessa’s pledge?” Pastor Mills asked.  “Speak now or forever
hold your peace.”

“No, sir.  I don’t know why I did
that.  I’m very, very sorry.”

I stole a glance at Tessa to see if
any of this was appeasing her.  Her eyes were narrow dark slits.  Please don’t
ever show me a baby like that.

“She’s crazy,” Tessa said.  She
calmly folded her hands in her lap.  “Pastor Mills, I didn’t want to have to
tell you this, but now I feel Lizzie’s given me no choice.”

My back broke out in a sweat.  What
was she doing now?

“Lizzie’s been a bad, bad girl,” Tessa
began.  She shook her head at my parents.  “I’m sorry to have to tell you, Mr.
and Mrs. Aimes, but Lizzie has been leading a double life.”

[2]

We did have a secret life.  That
much was true.

But I was just the audience.  Tessa
was the performer.

She told me everything:  about
smoking pot.  Trying coke.  Trying worse.  Drinking from her parents’ liquor
cabinet until she made herself sick.  Going out with high school boys when she
was still in seventh grade.  Giving them oral sex like it was as simple to her
as French kissing.  Losing her virginity at thirteen.  Sleeping her way through
the high school boys at church—at least a dozen of them by the time we were
fourteen.

I listened—it isn’t a sin to
listen, is it?  And I admit I couldn’t wait for the next installment.  It was
better than reading
Cosmo
.  It was better than sneaking into an R-rated
movie.  Because Tessa gave me details.  She told me everything, from how she
touched them to how they took off her clothes to how it felt to have them
inside her to how she cleaned up the evidence afterward so her parents wouldn’t
find out.

But on the outside?  Sure, she
looked a little wilder than the rest of us with her black-dyed hair and her
dark vampish makeup, but her parents thought it was cute.  They saw what they
wanted to see.  They’d drop Tessa off for youth group, she’d wave goodbye, then
run into the bathroom and change into the clothes she had hidden in her
backpack, and emerge ready for whatever boy won the coin toss that night. 
Seriously—that was how she decided.

And I’d be there, Miss Goody
Two-Shoes, with my Bible under one arm because I actually
liked
those
evening Bible studies, and maybe Tessa would come back from her adventure in
time for us to talk for a few minutes before her parents showed up again, and I
couldn’t wait to hear every single word.  Forgive me if that’s wrong, but I’m
trying to be honest here.

And I swear, it was her—not me.

[3]

The first thing my father did when
we got home was race into my bedroom and upend my top mattress.

And there they were.  Just where Tessa
had told everyone they would be.

As festive as party favors.  String
after string of colorful condoms.

Red ones, blue ones,
any-kind-will-do ones.

Ribbed, smooth, glow-in-the-dark,
camo, polkadot, striped, flavored, scented.

And not only that.

Pamphlets:

Do You Have an STD?  Know the
Warning Signs

Contraception Options for Today’s
Woman

Condom Use Saves Lives

And a few other popular titles from
the women’s clinic.

And some of Tessa’s paperbacks she
had asked me to hide because she was sure her parents tossed her room whenever
she wasn’t home.

The Always Willing Wife

School Girl Orgy

Suck Me, Hurt Me, Please Me

Teacher’s Pet

I wish I could have set fire to the
whole room.  I wish I had never met Tessa Blake.  I wish I were a stronger
person and had never agreed to hide her stuff.  How stupid can you get?  She
pointed out that my parents were more trusting than hers, so it was best for me
to hide it.

Best for her.

My father stared at all this bounty
as if he had just uncovered a pile of naked boys handcuffed to my bed.  If he
had stroked out right then and there I wouldn’t have been surprised.  I’ve
never seen him so horrified by anything in my life.

I just stood there.  What else
could I do?  The evidence was all laid out, just like Tessa knew it would be. 
I had already defended myself as well as I was ever going to in Pastor Mills’
office—I told them over and over it wasn’t me, it was Tessa—but they all
believed her.  I was the vixen.  I was the slut.  She was the one always trying
to talk me out of it.  What could I say that I already hadn’t?  And that was
before all the evidence was laid out in front of them.  One look at my parents’
faces told me I had no chance now.

The first thing my father did was
pry the Promise Ring off my finger and fling it out into the hall.  Next he
stormed off and returned with a screwdriver.  He removed my doorknob, lock and
all.  It would be at least a month before he installed a new one, this time
without a lock.

What could I do but take it?  No
one would believe me, at least not right away.

[4]

The problem with ratting out your
condom storage manager is that the next time you need one—like, say, the very
next day—you don’t have it.

And if you aren’t very bright—much
like Tessa turned out to be—you go ahead and have sex anyway, and figure it won’t
matter just this one time.

There’s no such thing as a freebie.

She would have gotten away with it
if it had been with any other boy but Matt Kirksdale.  But Matt actually has a
conscience, and even though he’d given Tessa the money she needed for an
abortion, he just couldn’t stomach keeping it a secret.  He broke down and told
his parents, and that was that.

So.

I, who had been booed when we
returned to the sanctuary so that Pastor Mills could complete the Ceremony and
declare Tessa pure—

I, who had been banned from the
church because I was a bad influence—

I, who had faced two full weeks of
the silent treatment from my father—

I, who was told by one of the women
at church I would never be able to have children because I had treated my body
like a sewer—

I nothing.

No apologies, no “oh, my God, you
were right,” no new lock on my door, no “how could we ever think that?” no
public vindication, no invitation back into the bosom of the church.

But, there was just one thing.

Right outside my door one morning,
nearly hidden by the white carpet, my Promise Ring, just lying there, no note,
no box, no nothing.

I returned it to its rightful
finger and my father never said another word about it until that night when he
accused me of sleeping with Jason.

My father had believed me, hadn’t
he?  And now he was using Tessa to prove me a liar.

I guess all was not forgiven after
all.