Page 22 of A Lesson In Beginning

“And what it felt like seeing things at The Temple.” I dropped my head into my hands, my elbows unceremoniously on the table in a wholly impolite fashion.

“I don’t think I understand.”

“What I saw being done at The Temple was beyond anything I could have ever imagined. It was like being thrown back to times when… well, when Josiah wasn’t particularly kind.” I lifted my head, but could not bring myself to look in her eyes as I spoke.

“Oh, Adah.” her softly whispered pity was the last thing I wanted.

“No, don’t. Please. I’m not ready to — how did you word it? — deconstruct all of that just yet. But while what I saw reminded me so much of my life in Zion, it was also somehow totally different. I am not sure if I can put it into words. I struggled to put them on paper last night, but the feeling remains, regardless.”

“That is also a feeling I know quite well. Why don’t you just keep talking? Sometimes just letting the thoughts run through you, speaking them aloud, can help you find the right words to articulate your feelings correctly.” I considered her idea for a moment before throwing caution to the wind. She had been incredibly open and honest with me in the short time since Samuel and I had arrived. What would it hurt to give a little honesty in return?

“I am struggling with the juxtaposition of emotions I felt. Not in the moment, mind you. No. Never that. At the moment, I only felt consternation and shock at seeing such things in person. Such intimacy performed in such an open space is just something I don’t think I could ever understand. Plus, it was difficult for me to not think about running into one of your brothers and their wives in some nefarious act. Or worse! You and Levi!”

Ruth nearly cackled as my face scrunched into a contorted grimace of utter distaste.

“You should see your face!” She continued to giggle, wiping at her eyes where tears had gathered at the rim.

“I can’t help it, Ruth!” I could not contain my laughter and smacked at her arm playfully, urging her to desist.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Please continue.” She took a deep breath, calming her laughter and allowing me to continue.

“It wasn’t until later, after it had all ended, that I had time to really reflect on my feelings, or even on what I had seen. It was like I had missed bits and pieces at first. I was lost in the emotion of it. I was thrust back into my own experiences and couldn’t truly see what was before me. But after, especially when I was… well, alone… I remembered everything. And the feeling changed.” My cheeks grew warm, flushing with embarrassment as the truth finally found its way into articulate wording.

“Oh, it was — OH!” Her eyes popped open wide and then she grinned in a mischievous, knowing way. “I think I know exactly what you are getting at. You were feeling a little… hot and bothered, was that it? You found yourself feeling aroused at the memory, with no way to relieve those feelings. Am I right?”

I blushed even more furiously, and all I could manage in response was a barely perceptible nod. I had never felt more mortified and ashamed in all my life.

Ruth chuckled and shook her head in fake consternation before continuing. “You know, there is nothing wrong with — shall we say — taking things into your own hands?” She threw me a wink and I could do little more than look at her, perplexed even further. Again, she winked at me, then waggled her eyebrows suggestively, though I had not a single idea what she was attempting to suggest.

“Could you just spit your words out, Ruth? I have no idea what you are hinting at here.” I knew my tone was less than kind, but I was exasperated at how much effort the conversation was costing me. It was embarrassing, frustrating, and growing ever more confusing by the moment. Ruth looked at me blankly for a moment, then a look of realization and sympathy engulfed her features, although I didn’t know why.

“Oh… oh, Adah. You poor thing. I think we have some serious talking to do. Let me call Ollie and Delilah. They will take the kids to play while we have a talk.” She smiled kindly, then pulled out her phone. A few brief sentences later, and all was settled, despite my protestations. “All right, they will be here in a few minutes. Then we can talk about the birds and the bees.”

“What do birds and bees have to do with feelings at a sex club, Ruth?” I rolled my eyes at her absurdity.

“Oh, so much more than you realize.” She giggled to herself, then headed off to wake Theo from his nap, leaving me wondering what on Earth I had just gotten myself into.

CHAPTER 8

The birds and bees have nothing to do with the animals and insects you would expect, as it turns out. It has nothing to do with animals at all. Unless you count humans as animals, I suppose. The entire conversation was remarkably shocking and uncomfortable, to say the least. I knew things were different outside of Zion, but — how did Ruth put it? — to “take things into your own hands”? The gall! The brazen audacity of it entirely. I am still shocked, even hours after the conversation adjourned.

I read over the words of my journaling from that night over and over again, running my hand over the page and feeling the depressions of where ink met paper with great detail. The feel of it, the aggression of the marks on paper, matched the aggression of the words written. There was a boldness to it all, both the words, and the act of pen to paper, that seemed befitting of such a situation. I continued reading, my eyes landing on a different section; one that contained words that I would have been scared to even think, much less write down, before leaving Zion.

It feels surreal, unnatural, and somewhat bewildering to have known so little for so long. But it isn’t simply the not knowing; it is the fact that for so long I relied on what the elders taught me to be my guideline for what was true. I leaned so heavily on the words of others, letting them contort and misconstrue the word of God from passages of promise into their own mangled ministry of malevolence, leaving the rest of us nothing more than the dilapidated disciples of their destruction.

I allowed myself a small smile at my skills of alliteration in those last sentences. Beyond my admittedly clever phrasing, the words themselves felt like blasphemy, even as they rang true in my heart. I had let those men — men I now knew to be vile and disgusting and evil — dictate what I thought was true. Looking back on it now, knowing what I now knew, it was revolting.

The world I now lived in was still largely unknown to me, but I was beginning to realize that the world within myself was even more uncharted, more wild and unknown than I had previously allowed myself to imagine.

I read over my words for a third time, still letting the textured scrawling give comfort over the pads of my fingers as my mind whirled with the wonder of what I knew then versus what I knew now. Was it true? All that Ruth had said?

According to Ruth, carnal desires are more than something shared between husband and wife. They are something to be known for oneself. It is not a sin, but knowledge; a truth of your own design, of the very composition of your body, mind, and soul, wrapped into one in the form of pleasure.

Pleasure — What a strange concept. Is it that simple? To touch one’s own body? And if so, where would I even begin? The only touch I have known is that of my doctor and that of my husband. Neither of which gave me belief in the pleasure Ruth spoke of. I find it difficult to believe that such a thing could truly exist. The very thought makes my stomach turn with anxiety and a sense of wrongness.

My eyes scanned the words again, coming to only one truth. I could not make sense of these things. Not tonight. And perhaps not even in the future. But that was a conversation I would have with myself at a later date, perhaps when I was more sure of my sense of self. For how could I possibly know how I felt about such a thing, when I felt as though I no longer knew myself at all?

Slamming the journal closed with a frustrated sigh, I flipped over onto my back, nestling in the covers before reaching for the light. Shrouded in darkness, I pleaded with my subconscious to let the sultry fantasies of my wayward mind cease for the night; at the very least, enough to let me rest.

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