They never came.
“I’m fine,” was all I could say. It was a lie.
I was doing that a lot lately.
Withholding the truth.
Dishonesty was a slippery slope.
“The group sing is tonight. After dinner,” Anne reminded me.
I had forgotten the monthly Song of Grace. Normally I loved it.
Today wasn’t normal.
I felt the awning hole of blackness gaping before me. I had to be careful or I’d fall in.
“Bastian was asking where you were,” she added. I tensed but didn’t respond. “He seemed almost panicked when you weren’t at meal times.”
“Hmm,” I mumbled, non-committedly.
“I had fun yesterday. Did you?” she asked, twirling a piece of hair around her finger.
“I did.” It felt safe telling her this. If nothing else, I could share this with her.
“I kissed David,” Anne whispered, ducking her head so I couldn’t see her face.
I wanted to squeal with giddiness for her. I wanted to giggle and talk boys and do all the things we would have been doing if we were different people in a different life. I wanted to share my own kiss.
Our first kisses.
Important milestones for any other girl.
But we weren’t those people.
“What was it like?” I couldn’t help but ask her.
Anne’s face took on a dreamy quality, much like what I saw at the waterfall. I felt a pang. It felt a lot like sadness. A lot like elation.
“It was in the woods. Beneath the old oak tree. By the one that Stafford and Bobbie cut down last winter.” I nodded, urging her to go on. Dreading where this was going. Happy for her all the same.
She let out a sweet tiny breath. “I fell over a fallen log. I wasn’t paying attention. We were talking. I was looking at him. And then I fell.” She giggled nervously. “He pulled me to my feet. Then he wrapped his arms around me, touching my face like this.” She cupped my cheek and I could almost feel the butterflies she must have been feeling. Because I remember feeling them too. “He told me I was beautiful, Sara.”
“That’s because you are, Anne,” I told her. She blushed.
“Then he kissed me. His lips were rough but it didn’t matter. We kissed for a long time.” She peeked up at me through her hair. “I felt his tongue in my mouth,” she said as quietly as possible as if someone were listening.
I smiled. I didn’t know what to say. I understood how she was feeling because yesterday I had been feeling the same. It was all so perfect. So amazing.
And so doomed.
As her friend, I was elated for her. As her sister, I was horrified. I felt the tug of moral defensiveness. I felt the need to tell her all the things I had been conditioned to say.
How it was up to Pastor Carter to decide our path.
Our lives were dictated by the fate we shared. The calling of The Awakening.
We had to keep our souls pure. Untainted.
