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.