I met her eyes. “You too?”
She picked at a thread on my blanket. “This morning.”
“I thought I was going to be put in The Refuge,” I said, not wanting to say it, but having to.
“Me too,” she murmured.
Then we were silent. Neither of saying a thing. Holding onto a hundred thoughts. A hundred feelings.
We should talk about what happened. What our future would be. But we were scared. For many reasons. We imprisoned truth. Denied it a voice. It resided in a place that was manageable for us.
I wanted to tell her and ask her so much.
“Did you travel many places before you and your dad joined The Gathering?” I asked Anne instead. Her eyes widened at the question. It was dangerous talking like this. It could lead to curiosity.
But we were already talking about dangerous things. What was one more?
“We went to Disney World once. Before Mom died.” Anne smiled wistfully, eyes unfocused as she remembered. “I was always dressing up in princess clothes. Mom called me Sleeping Beauty because I never wanted to wake up in the morning.”
Anne hardly ever talked about her mother. Joining The Gathering of the Sun meant leaving our pasts behind us. The people. The experiences.
Everything.
I knew her mother had passed away from cancer only a few months before her father brought them to The Retreat. It was partly why she had been so upset. So defiant. We spoke of it once and only once.
“I hate him,” Anne whispered. We sat on the rocky shore of the rushing river. Stafford, Minnie, and Caitlyn fished by the waterfall farther down. In the few short weeks, she had been living here, we had become close.
Her pain called out to the echo of mine.
“Don’t say that,” I chastised, glancing over my shoulder to make sure we weren’t overheard. Talking like that would earn Anne a trip to The Refuge.
Anne plucked the head off a buttercup and flicked it into the water. “But I do. He was awful to Mom when she got sick. Always preaching about sin and salvation. He told her it was her fault she got sick. That it was because God was punishing her. What kind of person says that to someone when they’re lying in bed, too weak to move? You know, I was the only one around while he was off finding Jesus or whatever. He wasn’t even there when she died.”
My heart hurt for my friend. In that instant, I hated her father too. He was content with his new life with The Gathering. He hardly noticed how hard it was for his daughter. He didn’t care enough to notice.
But I noticed.
Anne spent every moment by my side. I tried to give her everything denied to me in the first few years here. Companionship. And most of all understanding.
She ripped more flowers out of the ground. Throwing them away. “I hate him.” Then there were tears. “I miss my mom so much.”
I leaned in close to her so that when I spoke, only she could hear. “Then miss her on the inside, Anne. Because tears for those we’ve lost won’t help anything. Pastor will tell you that you must focus on your future. On your path.”
“I don’t want a path!” she seethed.
“Shh,” I hissed. “Don’t talk like that. You belong here now. With me. Find your happiness in that. Don’t give anyone the power to defeat you. Not your dad. Not Pastor Carter. Not anyone.”
I felt guilty for saying it. But Anne needed to hear it.
Anne dug her fingers into the dirt, her shoulders shaking with sobs.
One minute.
Two…
Then she stopped. She straightened her shoulders.
She kissed my cheek, squeezing my hand as she nuzzled close. “I love you, Sara.”
