Page 198 of Unexpected Hero

There’s a tiny hitch in her voice when she continues. “The number of times I was threatened with eternity in hell for being a normal child was absurd. It was drilled into my head that anything that feels good is dangerous. Not just sex, but even things I couldn’t control.”

“Like?”

“Aside from things most Christians see as sins — drinking, smoking, drugs, adultery, and so on — it was things like being aroused, fantasizing about kissing a boy, or anything beyond holding hands. Hell, I remember waking up after having a dream about a boy I liked, and I cried all morning. I couldn’t go to school because I was so disappointed in myself for being unclean. From a dream. A dream.”

“Unclean?”

“The way I was raised, girls — and boys, but to a lesser degree — were taught that our purity was sacred. We were supposed to save ourselves for our future husbands. If we were tainted, no one would want us. You wouldn’t eat the cookie that someone else licked. That’s what we were. Cookies. Consumables for someone else to enjoy. Only worthwhile if we were fresh out of the package. No one wants a dirty cookie. Or the gum that’s been chewed. That was another lovely metaphor.”

“And even dreams would make you less clean or pure?”

“Purity isn’t only about our bodies, but our thoughts too. After all, God knows our hearts and minds better than we do. Now, as a rational adult who left the church and got educated,I know it sounds crazy. How could I be so foolish to believe something like that? Biology and hormones are real. They’re not something I could have controlled. But I was brought up to see anything sexual as dirty. My body’s cravings were not to be trusted. If the threat of hell wasn’t enough of a deterrent, there was also the pressure of losing my family and friends because I was weak, unable to preserve myself or love God the way I was supposed to.”

“Damn, Lettie. That must have been awful.”

“It was all I knew back then. And to some degree, we were almost encouraged to suffer. Suffering earns favor with God or purifies your soul. I accepted it as a fact of life, embracing my suffering.”

If suffering earns us favor, I’m due for rainbows and unicorns.

“How did you escape that way of thinking?”

She takes a deep breath before answering. “It was because of Stella. She sort of saved me just by being herself. Ironically, the way God made her is what paved a path for me.”

“How so?”

“She came to me one day in tears, begging me to pray with her. We went to her house after school, and she confessed some of the thoughts and urges she was having and how nothing she did could stop them. She was so terrified she would lose me by telling me, but she had no one else to turn to. I was her last resort.”

She pauses to gather her composure. I embrace her through it, my fingers making soothing circles on her supple skin.

“That was when she realized she was attracted to girls as well as boys. And she was so damn certain that nothing was going to save her soul. She was prepared to kill herself to save her family the embarrassment if we couldn’t figure out how to cure her of those urges.”

“Shit, baby. That must have been scary. How old were you?”

“Fourteen. And yeah, I was terrified. We both were. She was my best friend. We were closer than sisters and still are, despite living hundreds of miles apart. To think that she was less deserving of God’s love because of something she couldn’t change didn’t feel right to me. I hated that she lived in fear of someone finding out her secret. Hated everything about what was happening to her. And a part of me knew that praying wouldn’t fix it. After all, I’d been praying to stop fantasizing about sex since I first felt a funny feeling in the swimming pool when I accidentally got too close to the jet. I knew how badly I wanted those feelings to go away, but they remained no matter what I did. I assumed it was the same for Stella.”

“What did you do?”

“The internet is a beautiful thing. I used a computer in the school’s library to do research because I’d never be bold enough to use our shared family computer. I researched views on homosexuality besides those we’d been taught in Sunday school, bible study, youth groups, and so on. I found some scientific articles and learned it wasn’t something she could control. My beliefs got muddled, thoughts discordant. If God created her that way, it couldn’t be wrong. And I was going to be certain she didn’t take her life because of it. But it all started from there. Once I realized that not everything we were taught was true, I looked at other beliefs more critically. It snowballed until I couldn’t be part of it any longer. It took another three years before I was strong enough to bail, but I finally did.”

“So you left the church, I assume? How did your family take that?”

She laughs humorlessly. “Papa didn’t mind it. He was only part of the church to please Mama. He was a bare minimum Christian. Secretly, he was happy I figured it out on my own and only wanted me to be happy.” There’s a tremble in her voice. I know she misses him. He sounds like he was a decent man.

Not sure how they ended up lying to her about her real father, though. But I can’t exactly call him up and ask him. Nor can I ask her.

“Papa told me once that watching me walk away from the church and stand up to Mama is what gave him the courage to leave her. And he didn’t mean it in a bad way — not like you’re the reason we’re divorced. He said I inspired him to find his own happiness.”

“He didn’t love her anymore?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I never asked. Before he died, I spent a lot of time taking care of him. We had good talks about all kinds of things, but we didn’t discuss her much. I don’t think either of us wanted our last weeks together to be marred by her toxicity. The only exception was when he admitted he wasn’t my real father. He told me that when my birth mother died, Mama was in such a deep depression. She turned to faith to make sense of it all. And she got sucked in. Over the years, she changed. She wasn’t the same woman he married. I think I was a constant reminder of the daughter she lost. My mother wouldn't have died if not for premarital sex and sinning since that got her pregnant with me. She was determined to save me from a similar fate. The church provided her with what she needed to make that possible.”

She laughs again, and this time it sounds lighter. “Ironically, the path she chose for me drove me to Florida, where I work in a kink club. If she hadn’t tried to manipulate my entire life, instilling so much guilt and shame I almost drowned, I might still be at home, living a more traditional life.”

“Well, now I’m torn.”

She faces me, propping her cheek on her palm. “Over what?”

“I was contemplating what kind of justice I could serve up to her and anyone else who made you feel guilt or shame over your body’s natural urges. But now I also want to thank her for sending you to me. So… yeah, I’m torn.”

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