Authors: Winter Renshaw
BELLAMY
“We’re having company over for dinner tonight,” Mom
announces Friday morning during breakfast prep. “Please wear your Sunday best.”
“Can’t make it tonight,” I say dryly. “Work thing.”
I’ve been drooling over the intricately beaded peach and
gold dress Dane had sent earlier in the week, and my check-in time at
Bellisima
is at ten o’clock this morning. I’ve waited all
week for this.
“You didn’t mention that before, and it’s not on the family
calendar. You’ll have to reschedule it.” There’s
a finality
in my mother’s words that send a thick dread to the pit of my stomach. “Our
guest is coming from out of town. Your attendance is mandatory, and Waverly,
why on earth do you look so tired this morning? You feeling okay?”
My sister wears dark circles beneath her clear blue eyes.
This house creaks and moans, and I’ve woken up several times in the dead of
night to the sound of doors shutting and footsteps trekking down the hall.
At first I refused to believe it.
My sister, the golden child, sneaking off
in the middle of the night to spend time alone with our stepbrother?
It didn’t make sense, and it was so unlike her and obscenely
far-fetched that I laughed it off.
And then it happened again.
And again.
And then I heard my father talking to our mom in his study
one night. I only caught bits and pieces of the conversation, but it went
something along the lines of he was worried about Waverly’s virtue, and he
wasn’t comfortable sending her off to college in the fall. He even intercepted
her acceptance letter to Utah.
Waverly doesn’t know yet, and I don’t have the heart to tell
her. I’m still figuring everything out, piecing what I know together, and
waiting for the right time to get out of here.
I’m taking her with me. She won’t have a life if I don’t.
“Are you going to tell us who’s coming?” Waverly asks,
massaging her temples.
“Your father will talk to you about it this evening,” Mom
says.
***
My stomach sinks as I knock on Dane’s door.
“Come in,” he calls through the thick wood.
I step in, taking small, hesitant steps in his direction.
“What’s with you?” he asks.
“We’re going to have to postpone our night out.” I soften my
gaze, hoping he’ll show mercy toward me.
His jaw sets, his eyes narrowing. “And why would that be?”
“I have a mandatory family dinner tonight.” My head hangs,
and my eyes wince as I await his response. I’ve been doing so well lately with
not disappointing him.
“You’re almost twenty-fucking-three for Christ’s sake.” He
rises, hunching over his desk with clenched fists. “When is it going to end?
When are you going to get the hell out of there? Let me help you, Bellamy. I’ll
put you up in an apartment downtown. You’ll be free once and for all. What are
you waiting for?”
He remembers my birthday
is next month?
“My sister.”
I don’t talk about Waverly much with him. For one, I know he
doesn’t care and for another, he doesn’t like getting-to-know-you chats.
“I’d been waiting for her to graduate from high school, and
she did a few weeks ago. Just waiting for the right time.”
“You’re scared.”
“I am
not
scared.”
“You’re terrified. Your parents have brainwashed you into
thinking you’ll never survive in the outside world,” he sneers. “That’s exactly
what they do. That’s how they control you. They paralyze you with fear.”
“If I were so terrified of the outside world, would I have
agreed to all this? Would I have handed my virginity to some strange man in
exchange for a salary and a few pretty things? Would I move Heaven and Earth to
ensure my family believes wholeheartedly that I sit in a cubicle all day? Does
that sound like a girl who’s afraid to take a giant leap of faith into the
unknown?”
“Then jump, Bellamy, before I’m forced to push you.” He
straightens his posture and lifts his brows. “Because one way or another, I’m
getting you out of that situation.”
So he does care about me…in his own way.
“I appreciate your concern.” My palm faces toward him.
“Believe me when I tell you it’s going to happen. My sweet sister is a bit
naïve, and she still eats from the palm of my father’s hand. Convincing her to
come with me is going to take a bit of work on my end.”
“Then I suggest you get busy. You never know when the day
will come when your entire life is turned completely upside down,” he says.
“And I’d hate for your sister to be blindsided by something horrid all because
you were waiting for the right time to show her the light.”
He has a valid point.
“I’ll talk to her tonight. I’ll plant the seed. I’ll feel
her out,” I say. “We have to dress up for this dinner, so I’ll bring it up when
we’re getting ready.”
“You have to dress up for a family dinner? Is that a normal
occurrence in your household?”
I stare off to the side. “No. We’re having company. A guest
from out of town.”
“Fuck, Bellamy. You know exactly what’s going on.” He pushes
a weighted breath through his flared nostrils. “Two young women? Single?
A visitor from out of town?
Your family is putting you both
on the auction block.”
My stomach churns and tiny beads of sweat line my forehead.
“Back on the compound,” he says with a choke in his voice.
“That’s what would happen right before one of my sisters would get married off.
A man would come to dinner. Then a week later, she was gone. Married off.”
***
“You know what’s going on, don’t you?” I ask Waverly as we
face the bathroom mirror. I slick on a couple coats of mascara, leaning forward
and examining my eyelids for smudges.
Waverly irons a large curl into a strand of her sandy hair
and rakes her fingers through it to loosen it up.
“No, I don’t. Care to enlighten me?”
I have to test her. “No. I’m asking. You know what’s going
on?”
“Of course not,” she huffs.
“Something’s up.” I click open a blush compact, my hands
trembling as I reach for the brush.
“Obviously,” Waverly says.
“Last minute dinner guest… Us being told to look good…”
“Maybe it’s someone from the AUB?
Dad’s
always trying to get on their good side. They don’t like that he left the old
community and moved us all here.”
It’s true. He’s been desperate to redeem himself ever since
we relocated.
“Could be a friend from work,” Waverly continues, ironing
another section. “Maybe he’s just being sociable. I heard there were secret
poly families all over Whispering Hills.”
I can’t stand her naivety a moment longer. The girl was born
with sunbeams shooting out of her backside, but real life’s about to smack her
upside the head.
“Stop being so naïve, Waverly. He’s trying to marry us off.”
I squeeze my compact until I feel the satisfying click in my hand and place it
on the counter.
“You don’t know that.”
“It’s the only logical explanation.”
“Dad wouldn’t do that. I’m going to Utah in the fall.” She
turns to me, combing her fingers through her curls one more time. “You’re
twenty-two. You’re done with school. Aren’t you just waiting to be–
”
“No.” I know damn well what she’s implying, and I cut her
off before she brings up the whole Cortland debacle. She swore left, right, and
sideways never to speak of him again, but this conversation could easily head
in that direction. “We should get downstairs. I’m sure they’re waiting.”
***
The guest at the head of the table next to my father is
Bruce Waterman, one of the seventy quorum members in our local ward. That
wouldn’t mean much to most people, but tonight, my parents flit about like
we’re hosting the President of the United States.
Bruce wears a crooked smile, and is tall and bony with gray
in his hair and a gaudy gold wedding band wrapped around his left ring finger.
My father takes great pride in introducing us all and spends the rest of the
dinner with his lips glued to Bruce’s backside.
He says all the right things. Quotes all the right
doctrines.
Brags about teaching moments and how proud he is
that his children are walking in the light.
I try to tune most of it out, pretending to be somewhere
else as I push the roast chicken and vegetables around on my plate. I can’t
eat.
On several occasions, I catch Bruce staring at Waverly, and
then I catch Waverly staring at me like I’m about to fall prey to some grave
misfortune. Our sympathies are clearly misaligned tonight.
My father suggests we all head into the family room after
dinner, even giving my mothers permission to clean up later so they can join
us. I take the big leather chair in the corner, away from the dog and pony
show.
“Waverly,” my father calls out. “Why don’t you show Bruce
here that lovely hymn you play on the piano. You know the one.
Father Is My Favorite Friend
.”
“Aw, I was hoping for
Take
Me to Church
.” Jensen moans under his breath. He sits on the leather sofa,
assembling a puzzle with one of the twins. I’m half tempted to ask him what he
thinks of all this, but I’m quite certain he doesn’t give a shit about any of
it. In fact, he’s probably mildly entertained by it.
I stifle a smile, simultaneously ignoring and appreciating
his dig.
Waverly takes a somber stride to the piano, sitting at the
bench and lifting the lid. Her fingers splay across the black and white keys,
and her posture zips upward. I glance at Bruce,
who
’s
grinning ear to ear as he watches her, and then my eyes snap toward my father,
who’s watching Bruce observe Waverly.
The whole thing is bizarre.
“Bellamy.” Dad turns around and
calls me. “Come. You can sing while Waverly plays. Waverly, can you two do
Thy Servants Are Prepared
for our guest
here?”
A faint groan settles in my
chest as I peel myself up from the chair.
Dad flashes a huge smile at me.
I’m sure it’s an attempt to remind me not to let him down. “Bruce, I don’t
think you’ve been formally introduced yet to my eldest. This is Bellamy, my
firstborn daughter. She’s twenty-two.”
Bruce gives me a wide grin, and
I focus on his overlapping front teeth. His gaze is sticky. It lingers. I’d
love nothing more than to wash it off of me.
“All right, Waverly,” Dad says.
“We’re ready.”
My sister plays the first few
bars and glances at me just before it’s time for me to come in. We’ve done this
number dozens of times at church. We have it memorized. But it’s different now.
We’re not doing it as a form of worship, and that makes it dirty.
When the song ends, Waverly
shuts the piano lid and stands next to me. Neither of us can look Bruce or my
father in the eye.
“Waverly, you’re a beautiful
pianist.” Bruce steps closer to my sister, reaching for her hand. I want to
knock him down, push him to the ground, and tell him not to touch her. “Your
father tells me you’re a virtuous, yet spirited girl.”
Yeah,
she’s just a girl. Leave her alone.
Bruce clearly has his sights
set on my younger sister. Perhaps he picks up on her naivety and picks up on my
resistance. She’d be an easier bride.
Less defiant.
He’s preying on her; that’s
what it is.
“Waverly, can you quote Article
Thirteen of the Articles of Faith?” Bruce asks.
“Yes,” she says, her voice a
forced whisper. “We believe in being honest, true, chaste, and in doing good
for all men.”
“Good, good.” Bruce’s thin lips
coil up at the corners, his voice snakes and slithers into the air around us.
“And you, Bellamy?” He addresses me, but he still looks at Waverly. “Are you
chaste and true?”
“I am.” Lying to a corrupt
church member feels oddly fulfilling. I refuse to meet his gaze.
“Excellent.” Bruce comes closer
and places his palm on my sister’s shoulder, his eyes drifting back and forth
between us. “You young ladies are the future of our faith. It’s up to you to
set good examples for your younger sisters, to follow out on the path that has
been lain before you by your mothers and grandmothers. It’s up to you to remain
true to your Heavenly Father and the doctrines by which we are governed.”
In the midst of the
strangeness, my thoughts travel to Dane.
He makes me feel like I can
take on the world. He gives me an inner strength, encouraged perseverance, and
a heavy determination. No one’s ever given me those things.
I pretend he’s whispering into
my ear, reminding me of my strength,
giving
me that
final push.