Authors: Elissa Wall
I’d wait until it was late and then park in a quiet spot up by the reservoir above the twin towns where my mother and I liked to go walking. Sometimes I’d be startled awake by a knock on my window, or the beam of a flashlight being shone in my face by a Colorado City police officer. While the police appeared to be in the business of strictly enforcing our religious laws, crimes against children seemed to go uninvestigated and unpunished. To my amazement, these policemen never seemed alarmed to see a teenage girl sleeping alone in her truck. Finding me there night after night never prompted any questions. There was never an investigation into the possibility of trouble or abuse. I was simply ordered to go home, precisely the place I was trying to escape.
When I approached Allen about going to Oregon, I didn’t ask for his permission; instead I just told him that this trip was essential for my job. While he was reluctant to have me leave, he was scared of what Uncle Warren would do to him if he explained the truth. Ever since our meeting with Warren in June, he had been hesitant to complain about me. Besides, Warren was scarcely around in those days, as his trend of being strangely absent from Short Creek had continued.
If Allen had made this a big issue, I would have had no choice but to stay. Even though I was testing my limits, defying him on this would have been too disobedient. It had been less than a year earlier when his refusal to allow me to go to Canada had led us to a large-scale confrontation involving the prophet. Although staying with my apostate sister was far more unacceptable behavior on my part, Allen didn’t seem to have the stomach for another protracted fight. In the end, he said that I could go.
With $2,500 in the bank from months at my various jobs, I was able to buy my own plane ticket, but shortly before I left in early October, I discovered something that was becoming all too regular: I was pregnant again. Though my stays in Allen’s bed were getting more infrequent, when I was there he would often push me into having sex. Once more, I was unwilling to tell Allen. Not only would he make me stay, he would blame me if something happened to the child. So I kept it to myself.
On the day of my flight, my boss drove me to the airport in Las Vegas, where I boarded a plane for Portland. As a youngster I’d flown a handful of times, but this was the first time I was completely on my own. When I landed in Oregon, I leapt from the plane and began running through the airport to find Kassandra. I nearly tripped over the young woman who stepped out into my path, and I couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t let go of me when I tried to continue on my way.
“Lesie,” the woman said.
I was surprised that she knew my name. Focusing my attention on this attractive brunette, I realized it was Kassandra. She looked nothing like the girl I knew in Hildale. This Kassandra was wearing flip-flops and capri pants. Her hair was loose and fell to just below her shoulders. Long, pretty earrings dangled from her ears, and makeup highlighted her beautiful blue eyes. Sure enough, it was Kassandra. As she enveloped me in a warm hug, I relaxed immediately. For months everyone in Short Creek had been calling her evil, but all at once I recognized that this couldn’t be further from the truth. She was the same kind and caring person she always had been, and now she had a beautiful infant son.
I
’d only been at Kassandra’s small apartment for a day when Craig called, wanting to see me. Reluctantly, I took the phone and heard his upbeat voice boom into my ear. “Be ready early in the morning,” he told me.
As promised, my brother arrived at 6:00
A.M.
the next day. He looked older and more mature than he had the last time we’d seen each other, almost seven years earlier. He was very masculine and handsome, with a strong jaw and fair blond hair like mine, cut close to his head. His deep blue eyes shone with a glow I hadn’t seen before.
“Oh my God, you’re all grown up,” he said, smiling.
“Yeah,” I retorted, not sure what to say. I knew that he’d made the long journey away on his own, but I had worried for his safety and felt hurt that he’d left our lives so completely.
Craig produced a jogging suit for me to wear, informing me that we would take a sunrise walk on the beach together. I had never seen the ocean and was excited by the prospect of getting my first look at the big waves. Changing out of my long dress into a pair of soft, comfortable pants was a thrill too. My brother and I walked way out onto the breakers in the fading gray mist of morning. Standing there as the waves crashed on the rocks beneath us was unlike anything I’d experienced.
“You abandoned Mom,” I told him, my pent-up anger suddenly unleashed.
Craig let my words hang in the air for a moment. Then he responded with a question, asking me why I continued to stay in the community. He was patient with me, and cautiously explained some of the journey that he had taken thus far.
He told me he’d gone to Colorado to get some space from the confines of the religion so he could think with a clearer mind and begin to do some research. He was convinced that there was no divine revelation behind our teachings. It was Craig’s firm belief that a group of old men had been dictating the lives of everyone else. It was earth-shattering to him at the time to such a point that he became deathly ill. Listening to him tell it now, I was upset as well. But Craig was sensitive to where I was in my life and knew that I wasn’t ready to absorb what he’d come to believe. He treaded lightly and did not try to sway my beliefs. Instead, he prepared me with thought-provoking questions in an attempt to understand where I stood. It was clear that the priesthood still had a great hold over me and that I was not at all ready to dismiss all that I had been taught.
I returned to Kassandra and Ryan’s apartment feeling refreshed and—even so many miles away—somehow at home. That morning was the beginning of what would prove to be an incredibly eye-opening trip during which I started to ask inner questions of my religion that I had never before dared to ask. Watching Kassandra’s little family and seeing joy on the faces of three of my brothers was a necessary lesson for me. My siblings had fallen from grace in the eyes of the priesthood, and they had supposedly signed themselves up for hell. However, being in their company confirmed the suspicion that I’d had all those years ago at Bear Lake: people on the outside are not wicked at all. They might live in a world of Hallmark holidays, cropped pants, and haircuts, but they are nothing like the demons that Warren spoke of.
This was my first solid look at life beyond the high walls of Short Creek, and it impacted my entire view of the world. In a bold move, I cut some of my hair in the front, making chic bangs. I also started wearing capris and some of the other modern styles Kassandra was into. One day, I joined Kassandra on a trip to the supermarket, donning my new pants, a pair of flip-flops, and a stylish short-sleeved top. As we walked from aisle to aisle, no one stared at me. It was the first time I’d been outside Short Creek without people noticing me. I felt unbelievably free. No one raised an eyebrow or tried to stifle laughter when I walked by. I looked just like everybody else.
The outing to the market was electrifying, but it couldn’t compare with the pure joy I experienced when I spent Halloween with my siblings. Caleb and Justin both came over to Kassandra’s to celebrate with us, and we had a blast carving pumpkins and decorating the house. In homage to my newfound adoration for
Pirates of the Caribbean,
I wore a white ruffled shirt, a pirate’s hat, and britches in the form of cropped denim pants. I loved waiting for the doorbell to ring and jumped off the couch each time it did to see the cute neighborhood children in their wild costumes. Handing out packaged candy to little kids dressed as witches, princesses, and superheroes served as one more cherished taste of what life in the rest of the world could be like.
In retrospect I understand that my siblings—Kassandra and Craig especially—were laying the groundwork for what they knew I needed to do. They were not only exposing me to the simple joys of the real world but also zeroing in on me with thought-provoking questions and remarks about my life at home. I ate sushi for the first time and went out late-night bowling. Everything I did reminded me of my time with Meg, and I did things that I never could have dreamed of back in Short Creek. I was hungry for life, and everywhere I looked things were glossy and new.
At one point, I had a chance to sit down with Kassandra and learn what had really happened in the wake of Rulon’s death that prompted her to leave the FLDS. The day Uncle Rulon died, his wives were in mourning, but they took heart in Warren’s declaration that none of them would be married. This was followed by his similar statement to the whole congregation. But just one month later, he’d gathered all of his father’s “ladies” together to announce his secret marriages to seven of them. Among them was Naomi, who would later stand before the community to deliver the message to the people that Warren was the next prophet and admit her union with him. These seven women were the first of Rulon’s many young wives who would be reassigned.
I was shocked to hear about what had been going on inside the prophet’s home. In the days after Warren married those first seven women, he’d begun to arrange for the marriages of some of Rulon’s other young wives. He declared it their new mission in life to be married, explaining that this was the “next step” that Father wanted them to take. Kassandra told me of her panic as she watched her sister wives being given to the men that Warren deemed worthy, among them his brothers Isaac, Nephi, and Seth. Warren had even gone so far as to present her with a list of “worthy” men that she could marry. Suddenly, her escape made a lot more sense, and I felt bad about carrying around my anger over her unexplained departure.
The joy of my trip was momentarily halted when I received a call from my boss accusing me of having stolen merchandise. In the weeks before I left, a sales rep from California had come to Utah and was pushing to have me removed from the company. I was hurt to be shunned by my employer after a productive relationship with her. After hearing what was going on, Kassandra no longer wanted to represent Saladmaster. Her decision created even more trouble for me when my employer insisted that Kassandra pay for all the pots and pans I’d lugged to Oregon. It took a few days to resolve, but in the end I no longer had a job with Saladmaster.
Though the business aspect of my trip no longer mattered, I chose to extend my stay in Oregon. One of my last nights was celebrated with a picnic on the beach. We built a fire and roasted a chicken, all huddled together in the slightly chilly breeze of early evening. As we sat laughing and munching on the delicious food, the conversation shifted from light to deep. My siblings put me on the spot, questioning me about why I remained in the FLDS and trying to convince me to leave.
“Do you honestly believe in Warren?”
I had no answer.
“Why are you still there?” they pushed.
“I have to take care of Ally and Sherrie!” I retorted, the sting of abandonment still remembered in my heart. At the time I thought that neither Kassandra nor Craig had any idea what it had felt like to be deserted. It had happened to me six times, and the thought of inflicting that kind of a wound on Sherrie and Ally was deplorable.
It was a hard conversation, but in the end it was helpful for all of us. I finally felt free to confront Kassandra about the pain she had put me through when she fled. “I feel like you just left me.”
She understood how I had felt and told me how sorry she was that she couldn’t be there for me at that time. We hugged in reconciliation and I was relieved to be free of the weighty and difficult feelings of betrayal that I’d been carrying with me all this time. Then they told me something that was important for me to hear.
“You would not be an evil person if you left,” Craig told me firmly. “You are whatever you decide to be.”
The sun had long since disappeared over the glittering ocean, leaving us with only the flickering light from our fire to see by. I felt so warm and comforted beside them even with the new unsettling thoughts that swam around in my mind. I had been in Oregon for what felt like a short time, but already something in me was changing. I wasn’t ready to take the big leap, and I appreciated that my brothers and sister could see that. Nonetheless, my eyes were opening to a new and different world, one that would allow me to be anyone I wanted.
After that night, the cell phone calls from Allen, which had been coming in throughout my stay in Oregon, became unavoidable. It had been almost three weeks since I’d left him, and his messages were getting more flustered and impatient every day. When I finally picked up, he sounded furious: “You come home right now.” I knew that if I continued to ignore him and didn’t go home right away, I would get into major trouble. Mom also phoned me, asking me to return.
“Lesie, come back, please,” she said softly, almost pleading. “I can’t lose you, too. I need you here, and these two little girls need you.”
My taste of freedom and real life had been a thrilling adventure, but I knew my time in Oregon was over. My belief system had begun to fray at the edges, but it was far from gone, and my obligation to Mom and the girls weighed heavily on my mind. Quietly I still wondered: If I left, would I really be okay? Or would doomsday arrive and leave my wasted body behind while the righteous were lifted up to heaven?
I boarded a plane in my long, drab FLDS skirt and top, a far cry from the comfortable and stylish clothes I’d been loving in Oregon. Allen was waiting for me when I arrived in Vegas, wearing a look of frustrated disdain. I could see he was irritated with me and berated me during the trip home. “I’m your priesthood head!” he exclaimed, exasperated. “I am done sitting by and excusing your terrible behavior.”
After a while I just stopped listening. I was shocked and amused to discover that all I could think to myself was, “I don’t care.”
S
ince I was no longer an employee of Saladmaster, I put myself on the schedule for some double shifts at the Mark Twain restaurant to make up for the drop in my income. I’d report in for my first shift around 11:00
A.M.
and then stay on through closing after 10:00
P.M.
In addition to bringing in extra money, this routine allowed me to spend a good part of the night away from home. Even though the restaurant closed at ten on weekdays and eleven on weekends, I would often stay until midnight to clean up and close it down. I was a good waitress, and customers seemed to enjoy me, and since I was making consistent money, I didn’t have to ask Allen for anything. But I still had no place to sleep at night. Mom’s room was mostly off-limits now, and I was tired of fighting with Allen.