Page 23 of Loving the Sinner
I have a lot of classics-The Lord of the Rings, Jane Eyre, Sherlock Holmes, The Great Gatsby-along with more mainstream books-Twilight, The Hunger Games,Pretty Little Liars, Divergent.He wastes no time making fun of me for liking a “sparkly vampire and werewolf love triangle disaster.”
I make sure to tease him about the fact he knows what it’s about.
“Did you know that Stephanie Meyer is Mormon? The vampires are basically described how angels are described in some parts of Mormon doctrine.” This fact is wild to me. It makes me laugh every time I remember it.
“I didn’t know that. Wait, isn’t50 Shades of Greybased off ofTwilight?”
“Oh yeah. It was a big craze with a lot of Mormon women when it came out.” I remember the craze and how my mother freaked out and told me I was never allowed to even touch one of those books. She was appalled that our bishop’s wife read it.
“Interesting. It’s a terrible book, and doesn’t represent the BDSM community or sex for that matter in a positive wayat all.But it’s still basically porn, so I figured they’d want to burn the books.”
The word “sex” coming from Wes’s mouth, especially in such a nonchalant way, sends chills down my arms. I’ve never been in a situation where sex is openly talked about, or discussed as a normal thing, so I’m not sure how to respond.
Luckily, I don’t have to, because Wes asks, “Have you really read all of these?” Partially skeptical, partially in awe.
“I think there are a few I bought right before the move that I haven’t read, but other than that, yes. I’ve read them all.” I don’t know what makes me keep rambling, but I can’t stop the words from coming out.
“We weren’t allowed to watch TV on Sundays in my house, and rarely would we be able to during the week unless my dad wasn’t home, and even then, the younger kids usually took priority so they’d be occupied. So I read a lot. We would go to the thrift store one Saturday a month, and I would spend the whole time combing through books to find ones I was interested in, and I would read all of them by the next time we went.”
He hums in acknowledgement, breaking down the box he was working on, and grabbing the last box in the stack. “What… is this stuff?”
I turn to see that he’s opened up the box with a giant ‘X’ on it, and my face pales. “Oh, um. That’s. Uhhhh”smutty romance novels, the lingerie I’ve never worn, anti-Mormon literature, my faith crisis journal…
Apparently I stand there frozen for too long because before I know it, Wes is standing in front of me, guiding me to sit on the bed. “Elli, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I’m not going to make you explain anything you don’t want to. Just know, I’m not going to judge you.”
“That stuff shouldn’t be a big deal, you know? Not for a normal adult. But if my parents knew that I had that stuff when I was at home, they would have made me throw it away and talk to the bishop to ‘repent’.” I huff, throwing myself back onto the bed.
“That seems like an overreaction.” Wes mumbles.
I bark out a humorless laugh. “You’re not wrong.”
Wes chews on his bottom lip, his eyes darting between me and the box. I can tell he’s extremely curious, but I haven’t said anything about that stuff to anyone. Ijustmet Wes, and yet…
I slide myself down so my back is leaning against the bed, slide the box in front of me, and motion for Wes to sit on the other side of the box.
“Before I show you what’s in here, I want to know what, if anything, you know about Mormons.”
“Oh,” his eyebrows raise in surprise, “Uh, Luke explained some rules like no swearing, no smoking, no drugs, no alcohol, no coffee, no tea, no tattoos, no piercings other than ears, no dating until you’re sixteen, only dating other members. Something about missionaries, getting married young, giving ten percent of your income, and something about a temple and special underwear.” He clears his throat like he wants to say more. “He also said sex before marriage, and you know, touching yourself and making out is considered really bad.”
I can’t help but laugh, because what he said sounds absolutely ridiculous, but he’s not wrong. Wes looks confused that I’m laughing, so I try to compose myself.
“I’m sorry, it’s not funny. Well, it’s kind of funny. All of that stuff is right, but sexual sins- masturbating, porn, anything that intentionally arouses-aren’t just ‘really bad.’ They teach us that they’re the worst sin, second only to murder. Specifically sex before marriage is second only to murder, but the other stuff is considered just as grievous. Which is why these,” I pull out the spicy romance novels, “are in here. My mom would die if she knew I was reading explicit sex scenes.”
Wes looks horrified, then he shakes his head like he’s trying to clear up his thoughts and he says, “Wait a minute. You’re telling me masturbating is compared to murder?”
“Yep.” I pop the “p” for emphasis. “Making out leads to temptation, so we’re strongly advised against it. Some people don’t even kiss until their wedding day.”
Wes’s facial expressions go through disgust, awe, confusion, and finally lands on curiosity. “Well now I’m curious about the other stuff, if you’re willing to share?”
I nod, pulling out the bag of lingerie. “Modesty is one of the most important things taught, especially to girls because obviously we control the sexual purity of men.” I roll my eyes. “Anyway, I was forbidden from wearing anything other than white or nude bras or underwear, because anything else is ‘impure.’ My mom used to ask who I was showing my bras to if I wanted a cute patterned one, so I just stopped asking. This bag is lingerie and fancy underwear I’ve been saving for when I moved out.”
Wes’s face is very flushed as he stares at the bag of lingerie. A small, vain part of me hopes he might be picturing me in them. His voice is low and strained when he finally speaks again, “Anything else?”
I pull out my journal and three books:The CES Letter, Leaving the Saints: How I Lost the Mormons and Found My Faith,andThe Pattern of the Double-Bind in Mormonism.I hand them to Wes so he can read the titles and skim the back cover, and when he sets them down, he looks even more confused.
“This is my faith crisis journal. I started it 2.5 years ago, and have documented pretty much every thought, question, or concern I’ve had. Six months after I started the journal, I foundLeaving the Saints,which led me to reading the other two. They validated my questions and made me realize I wasn’t just a bad member who lacked faith. A year after I started the journal, I knew. I knew that I didn’t believe anymore. I knew an organization who hides so much of the truthcan’tbe true. For the last 1.5 years this journal has been the only safe place to express everything I’ve been feeling. If I left the church before I moved out, I would have been kicked out and disowned. I wanted to believesobadly. It’s the only life I’ve ever known, and so much of my identity is tied into it so now I have to learn who I am outside of the church. I’m not sure I want to leave, though, because what if I’m wrong and I’ll go to hell if I do? But it feels wrong to go through the motions of being a devout member if I don’t really believe it, you know? And I’m not happy in the church, but what if I’m even more miserable outside of it, because I’m not ‘doing what I’m supposed to be doing?’”
I don’t realize tears are streaming down my face until Wes gently wipes them away whispering, “That sounds so hard, Elli. Especially to deal with it all on your own. I’m not going to even pretend I know what you’re going through, but just know I think you’re pretty damn strong.”
