night.”
“Are you still pure?” was the awesome follow-up question.
The implication that if I wasn’t a virgin I was impure—dirty—made me flinch. But I held up my head and said clearly, “No.” Let them vilify me.
Riley made a sound in the back of his throat.
My mother made a sound of horror and she looked at me with such disgust that I dug my nails into my legs, a sense of shame that I didn’t want to own rushing over me.
“Him?” Mom asked, gesturing to Riley. “This is who you gave your virginity to?”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with Riley.” It could be amusing to think that we hadn’t even had sex yet, but I was too upset to appreciate the irony. “This is about me trying to explain to you that I can’t be who you want me to be.”
“What, modest? How many boys have you slept with?” Mom asked. “Please tell me it was just the one.”
“I’m not discussing this with you.” And I would keep saying it until someone heard me. “What I’m trying to get you to understand is that I get it that you think of women as fitting into two categories—whores and the Madonna. But I’m neither. I’m just Jessica, somewhere in between, and I love you and I want you to accept me.” Tears formed in my eyes and I could hear the pleading in my voice and it horrified me. Being vulnerable wasn’t easy, especially not with Riley sitting next to me seeing my humiliation.
“So in other words, it was more than one.” My mother’s mouth pressed into a thin line, her red lipstick disappearing into her frown.
My heart sank. So that was that. That was her response and it wasn’t even close to what I wanted, no, needed, to hear.
My father cleared his throat. “You have two choices, Jessica. You can stay here for the rest of the summer under our roof with our rules and go back to school for the coursework we agreed on together, you and I”—he pointed back and forth between us—“or you can stay in Cincinnati now and lose our financial support. I cannot condone your lifestyle choices with my wallet.”
My mother was crying now, silent, pretty tears that wouldn’t wreck her makeup.
“I understand,” I said, feeling very calm all of a sudden. Hadn’t I been expecting this for years? I couldn’t pretend forever that I was going to walk the path they had chosen for me and in a sense it was a relief to know I wouldn’t have to anymore. “I don’t want to waste your money so I think it’s best if I withdraw from school for a while. Can I get my stuff from my room?”
“So you’re leaving?” my father asked.
I nodded.
“If you leave this house I don’t want to speak to you ever again,” Mom said.
That almost got me. My fingers jerked, and I took a second to make sure my voice was controlled. “I hope that isn’t really true, Mom. I love you and I still want to be a part of this family.”
“Don’t overreact, Donna,” Dad said.
It was too late for that. My mother wiped her tears and told me in a shaky voice, “I want you to know that you’ve broken my heart.”
Way to drive the knife just a little deeper, Mom. I didn’t say anything, because what could I say? Nothing was going to matter or make her feel any better.
But Riley’s hand gripped me more firmly and his body shifted closer to me like he could protect me from those words.
She got up and left the room when I didn’t burst into tears and declare myself a born-again virgin.
Dad wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t look like he hated me either. “Your mother is just disappointed,” he said. “Give her time. And yes, you can get your stuff. You can always come home—I want you to know that. In the meantime, just remember that if you stumble the Lord will always pick you up. But you have to allow Him near you to do that.”
I nodded, throat tight. Without meaning to, my fingers went to my cross, and I fingered it, seeking comfort. My father noticed and it seemed to give him reassurance.
“I’ll be praying for you, Jessica.” He stood up and held his arms open for me.
I sank into his hug, the crispness of his suit jacket sliding over my skin as I buried my face in his shoulder. He smelled like Dad, like cologne and whiskey. He had spiked his iced tea. I wondered if my mom knew how often he did that. “Thanks, Daddy.”
Then he stepped back, and he actually held his hand out to Riley to shake it. Riley did, giving my father a nod of acknowledgment. I had to admit, my father was impressing me with his calm control. I guess that was part of what made him such an amazing minister.
“Take care of her,” Dad said. “It takes a man to sit here and answer my questions with honesty and respect, and I appreciate that. I also appreciate you not interfering. I don’t approve of what Jessica is doing, but I won’t hold that against you. Maybe you can be a positive influence on her.”
Seriously? How effing misogynistic was that? All the positive feelings toward my dad that I had been having evaporated. How nice that Riley wasn’t tainted by association with me.
I didn’t trust myself to speak. Turning on my heel, I started toward the door, reaching up to yank my hair down out of the constricting bun.
Riley scrambled to follow me. “Jessica, wait.”
“I’m done with this conversation,” I told him, ripping my sweater off and letting it fall to the floor in the hallway. What was the point of dressing the part to please? “Did you hear him? I can’t do anything to make them happy.”
“I’m sorry, babe.”
Running up the stairs, I stomped down the hall, trying not to scream, or throw something, or in any way show my parents that I was the out-of-control loser they thought I was. Paxton was coming out of his room and he stopped short, giving me a sneer.
“Fuck you,” I told him.
Shoving the door open to my room, I eyed it with displeasure. It was a princess palace and it didn’t reflect me at all. It was expensive furniture and mirrored surfaces, in pinks and ivories. Whatever clutter I had left behind over Christmas break had been removed. It was like a perfect guest room for a perfect person who didn’t exist.
My boxes from school were neatly stacked in the corner and I went over and tried to lift two at once, pure adrenaline fueling me.
“Are we taking all of these?” Riley asked. His voice was carefully neutral.
“Yes. These six plus the vacuum.”
It took two trips, but we got everything shoved into the back of the car. On the second trip, Riley bent down to pick up my sweater.
“Just leave it,” I told him brusquely. “I don’t want it.”
He looked like he going to say something, then thought better of it. He carefully set the sweater down on the console table my mother used to sort mail and display fresh flowers.
Then I walked out the front door with no idea if and when I would be there again. Eighteen years of my life lived there, and all it took was an hour and six boxes to walk away from it.
No one came to stop me. No one came to say good-bye.
I turned to look back, to take in the foundation of my childhood, and I felt sadness, regret, longing.
But I also felt hope. That in leaving, I could find my place.
Chapter Seventeen
“Do you want to talk about it?” Riley asked after twenty minutes of silence.
I was stewing, staring out the window as we drove down the highway. “Not really.”
“Okay.” He was quiet for a minute, then he said, “I don’t want you to worry about money or anything. We’ll be fine. I don’t need to sell a kidney yet.”
