Page 41 of Purity

Footsteps sound down the stairs, and she and I both look up. A few seconds later, my dad walks into the kitchen with a stern frown on his face. He looks at Vanessa. “I need to talk to your sister.”

“Dad,” I say, “we’re kind of having a moment right now.”

His eyes grow hard. “I need to talk to you.”

“I’m fine,” Vanessa says. “We can talk later.”

“No.” I shoot her a meaningful look. “I want you here.”

Understanding dawns in her eyes.

I look at my dad. “You may want to talk to me alone, but I want Vanessa here while you lecture me about getting drunk last night.”

He lets out a forceful breath. “She’s seventeen, and this conversation is not for her.”

“She’ll legally be an adult in a few weeks, and I need her support.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “You need her support because you know you’re sinning.”

I raise my chin. “It’s not your place to police my faith.”

“Then I think you need to give your pastor a call. See what he says.”

“Since I’m currently without a pastor, I have no one to call. But this is exactly why I left First Covenant. I need a pastor with better boundaries. It’s not a pastor’s place to police my faith either.”

“You young people and your ‘boundaries’.” When he puts “boundaries” in air quotes, I almost laugh. “It’s been over six months now, and you haven’t found a new church. I wonder why that is, Livvy?”

“Dad, she’s taking her time,” Vanessa says. “She’s tried churches, but she wants to find one that feels like home.”

He huffs, shaking his head. “She only tries these woke churches. Churches that tell her she can do whatever she wants. You’re just looking for a way to sin and tell yourself that you aren’t. But you know.” His voice grows hushed. “You know what you’re doing.”

Goodness, he’s so melodramatic. “Dad, I’m not going to do this with you. I don’t need you to agree with me, but if you can’t even make an effort to understand where I’m coming from, we won’t be having these discussions. We’re done here.”

He shakes his head. “This isn’t the Livvy I know.”

His expression is grim and disappointed, and I hate that it makes my eyes prickle. I hate that I want to reach out and hug him and beg him to forgive me for betraying him.

“If you’re going to be living a life of a sin,” he says, “you need to start looking for your own place. I can’t have this in my home.”

I grit my teeth, willing the tears away. It’s not like it means anything. He’s not going to kick me out. My dad is all bluster and drama. The last time he made this threat was when he found out I watched an episode of Euphoria in our living room. He said, “That show is pornography, and pornography invites demons into the household.” It was almost laughable, but I still sobbed and begged for his forgiveness.

I guess I have made progress, even if my instinct to submit is still there.

As soon as walks out of the kitchen, I let the tears fall.

Vanessa wraps her arms around me. “He’s so fucking dramatic.”

I can’t help but giggle even as more tears fall. I love that she swears sometimes. I still have a hard time swearing. Maybe her future is more hopeful than mine.

“I know.”

“‘Living a life of sin’,” she quotes, mimicking my dad’s deep and slow cadence. “I hate it when he uses his pastor voice to call us out on things. It’s so manipulative.” She squeezes me tightly. “And he doesn’t really mean it. He doesn’t even like it when you drive at night. He would never kick you out.”

“I know.”

“Don’t cry.” Her tone is pleading.

“I’m okay, love. It’s just hard.”

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