Devil May Care: Boxed Set (141 page)

Today was the day, the day of the purity ball. I felt so alive and devilish as I climbed into my father’s car, just knowing that I didn’t belong there, that I had finally taken a step to do something I wanted for once, instead of something my father would approve of. For most of my life, I had done everything he asked of me. I didn’t go against his rules often at all. But now, now I was spreading my wings and coming into my own person.

And it scared me.

But it also thrilled me.

I’d be lying if I said I was looking forward to the ball, mostly because of the three and a half hour long drive it would take to get there. Three and a half hours trapped in a car with my dad.

He glanced over at me as he buckled. I was just putting my ear buds in, but he reached over and yanked them out of my hands. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

“I was going to listen to music and sleep,” I protested, reaching for my ear buds.

Dad shook his head, wearing his now ever-present scowl. “I brought along a study Bible for you. I
suggest
you do something productive with your time.”

So instead of being able to relax, I had to listen to a series of Mormon sermons he had on CD. It didn’t take me long to figure out their theme. Many of them discussed the duties of a woman and wife and the severity of sin.

By the time we arrived at the hotel, I was feeling fairly nauseous. Inside, I noticed a lot of fathers and other girls, many of them much younger than I was. The entire car ride, I had thought back on my childhood and what kind of a man my father was. For so long, I had been provided with whatever I needed—clothes, food, love, purpose, and a nice home—but I had been blind to what was really going on.

Yvonne’s jabs were suddenly so obvious. She had always been snippy and cruel. At first I had thought she just had a strange sense of twisted humor, but that wasn’t the case. She was just plain mean.

And Mom. Poor Mom. Her post-partum depression was staring me in the face, and it was impossible for me to help her. She needed her daughter, her baby girl. How could my father have thought it was right to take a daughter away from her mother and give the daughter to another mother who was a sister wife of the first? It was so twisted and sick, and it infuriated me every time I thought about it.

Dad…how could I have been so blind? I just accepted him and his actions and his demands over the years without ever questioning him. I liked to think I would’ve come to this realization without Wes because it was too depressing to contemplate my willingness to let him dictate my life, which would’ve happened had I not seen him for who he really was. And who was he? A man, no, a
sinner
, with a controlling, manipulative nature. He had a deep-seated desire to keep his family perfectly in line, just how he pictured us to be. And he had an inability to deal with losing his control, which was why he felt the need to take me to this purity ball. Like he could force me back into his brainwashing. Like he could control my thoughts and actions.

But he couldn’t and he wouldn’t. Not anymore.

Seeing some of the daughters smiling up at their fathers made my stomach churn. “I’ll go get changed now.”

Dad nodded without even looking at me.

I rushed to the bathroom and went into the stall. Luckily, I didn’t get sick, but my nerves were getting the better of me. Once I was sure I wouldn’t vomit, I left the stall and washed me hands and face. Staring at myself in the mirror, I hardly recognized the girl staring back at me. My life was so screwed up, especially my family life. Every aspect of it.

I almost fell victim to tears. Almost. My eyes were burning, and I blinked several times. The memories of my night with Wes—my nights with him—came to me, and I smiled.

I could handle anything.

The ballroom was massive and opulent, a clear sign of wealth from whichever sect organized it. It was beautifully decorated but not overdone, and the gowns of the other girls were just as nice. All in all, I might not have been having a bad time at all.

If I wasn’t here with my dad.

If I was here with Wes.

Or even if I was here alone.

Dad was breathing down my neck the entire time. His arm was through mine, and he forced me to walk around as we mingled and dined. The dancing was even more awkward and made me wish for Wes all the more—which was so against everything this ball stood for. Being surrounded by all these fathers and daughters made me feel trapped. How many of the other girls were forced to come here like I had been?

Probably most of them, if not all of them.

I followed Dad’s lead as we danced, and thankfully he didn’t talk to me much. I’d had dance lessons when I was younger. Dad never gave me a chance about it, although that I hadn’t minded. I loved twirling around. I found myself wondering if Wes knew how to dance.

The song ended, and Dad cleared his throat. “That’s enough dancing for now.”

He directed me away from the ballroom floor, and we returned to mingling some more. Dad ran into some of his friends, and I had a bad feeling from the way they were looking at me.

Dad nudged me in the back. “Go ahead and introduce yourself to my old church friends.”

I felt cold dread, and mouth grew dry as I faked pleasantries. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you all. I’m April Morrison. How are you all?”

They nodded and smiled, and introduced themselves back, but I didn’t pay enough attention to recall their names. Dad and they began to discuss the church, and I tuned out until the conversation turned to their families. Dad was talking about Yvonne and Penelope, and I wanted to slap him.

“My second wife is pregnant,” a tall man said.

“My third just gave birth two months ago,” a bald man said.

“That’s nothing,” a stocky man cut in. “My first and fourth wives are both pregnant. Now that’s a blessing and a curse.”

They all roared with laughter.

Poly families, the lot of them. I had nothing to add, so I kept quiet. Where were these men’s daughters? Maybe I could sneak off .

Dad caught my eye and shook his head. Great. Now he was a mind reader.

Inevitably, the conversation turned to my prospects.

“I must confess,” Dad said, “that I’m concerned for April’s future.”

Paralyzed, a fake smile frozen on my face, I was horrorstruck. How could he say that? How could he even think that?

The bald man eyed me. “I could use some more help around the house.”

The stocky man nodded. “I definitely could too. With two of my wives dealing with morning sickness, the house is a little neglected unfortunately.”

Dad just laughed. “Maybe April and I should stay a few days longer so all of us can catch up.”

On the verge of a panic attack, flight or fight kicked back in, and I excused myself to the restroom. Before Dad could stop me, I rushed off. Instead, I found a quiet corner, which wasn’t easy to locate considering how many people were here and the music and the dancing and talking. I removed my phone from my purse and called Wes. I was practically hyperventilating as I told him what happened.

“He’s worried about your future?” Wes fumed. “Of course he is. He hates that you’re thinking for yourself, that you aren’t blindly listening to him. He hates that you have the confidence to spread your wings and do your own thing. Damn it. It’s better to have a dad who isn’t even in the picture than to have one like him. I’m sorry, April. The house has been quiet without you.”

His outrage made me feel a little better, and his last few words warm me enough that I can pull myself together.

“Thanks, Wes. I—” I spotted Walter looking around, most likely for me. I sighed. “Got to go. Can you do me a favor? Can you tell my mom about all of this?”

“No problem.”

I hung up, put my cell away, took a deep breath, and returned to my dad’s side. “I’m sorry for feeling ill.”

Dad looked down on me, and I could tell he didn’t think much of my speech. “You need to hurry. The ceremony is about to begin.”

We took our seats, and I tried so hard to space out during it, too sickened by the religious control the many fathers were placing on their daughters. Some of the girls here had to be as young as eight or nine!

All in all, it was terrible. Using the memories of Wes kept me from breaking down. It was the only thing that got me through it.

The evening was finally over, and I couldn’t have been happier. I just wanted to go to bed. In the morning, we’d go back home. I couldn’t wait. I had to get away from all of this—all of the reminders of my dad and how strict he was, how controlling he was, how terrible it was that so many others thought and acted like he did. I just needed to get away from all of this. College. That would be when I could discover who exactly I was and who I wanted to become. While at the house, I’d been too confined and trapped to learn about myself. I’d never be able to expand my horizons or explore.

And that was something I wanted. Desperately. Even more than I wanted Wes.

We went up to our hotel room, but before I could get changed and brush my teeth, Dad cleared his throat. “We need to talk, April.”

I nodded, even though I knew it wasn’t really going to be a talk. A talk meant back and forth. A discussion. No. This was going to be a speech. There wasn’t a point in my even trying to voice an opinion. Dad wouldn’t listen. Now that I thought about it, I kinda always knew he was this way, but it didn’t bother me. I just blindly accepted it. What had changed? It wasn’t really that Wes had. It was more my watching Dad interact with Wes that opened my eyes. Dad talked about God and religion, but he didn’t practice what he preached, not if he couldn’t really accept a step-son into his life.

“It’s important for you to know and accept God’s will.” Dad motioned for me to sit on my bed.

I shook my head and remained standing near the bathroom door. I didn’t want to get comfortable. I didn’t want him to think I was willing to listen for him drone on for hours.

“It’s not always easy to know what God’s will is, but He sends us signs that are easy enough to read. Do you think it’s a coincidence that I have friends involved in a college near our home? No. And it’s a good college at that. You don’t need to go to a fancy school. You don’t need to leave the state to get a quality education.”

As he continued on, I fought the urge to yawn. Was he talking about God’s will? Nope, not at all. He was talking about
his
will.

“Order is just as important,” he added. “In fact, there’s not much more out there that is more important than order. Without order, everything descends into chaos.”

Whoever said chaos was such a bad thing? Spontaneity wasn’t evil either. Letting go, having fun…you didn’t have to be a stick in the mud. You could live a little.

I almost snorted at the idea of Dad letting down his hair and going wild. He’d been a teenager once. Had he always followed the rules then? I doubted it. Maybe he had been a real hellion himself, and now he was overcompensating with his children to try to keep them from making the same mistakes he’d made.

But mistakes were a part of life. Maybe sleeping with Wes had been one. Maybe it hadn’t been a mistake. Even if it had been, I still didn’t regret it.

“You see, April, the way things should be is going to be how things actually are. You will understand in time what is demanded of you, and you will grow to not only accept it, but to respect it, to want it. Life isn’t about making choices. It’s about accepting your role in life. Ah, yes. The importance of roles. You’re my daughter. As my daughter, I have a duty to you…”

A duty to not be a controlling asshole? I shouldn’t think this about him, but I did. Whenever I thought about the Hell he was putting my mom through, by taking away her baby girl and giving that baby to another of his wives, to have that wife flaunt the child back in Mom’s face every chance she got…I grew so angry I just wanted to lash out.

Or to run away. Maybe that was what I should do. After high school. I could run away to college, spread my wings, live my life, and do whatever I wanted.

But that would mean I’d be cut off. I’d have no money for food, no place to go home to during breaks. And where would I live during the summers? It was a scary thought. Thrilling but terrifying too.

“As your father…”

He was still talking? I forced myself not to glance at the clock. I shifted to the side. My feet were getting sore, so I kicked off my heels.

“I’m older and more experienced than you are. I’m the one who is most equipped to help you see yourself for who you really are and to help you realize your path.”

He knew me better than I knew myself? Doubtful. If he knew what I had done to Wes, that I wasn’t a virgin, that I thought so little of him and his opinion because of how he treated people—especially Wes and my mom—then he would know that I didn’t give a crap what he wanted for me. I knew what was best for me, more than he did.

“The gentlemen we met earlier,” he continued, and I couldn’t help wondering if he would ever stop talking, “they are of a similar mind to me. I believe they’re going to help restore order in our home. Don’t you think that’s necessary? It is,” he answered for me.

I didn’t nod or blink or react. What could I say or do? Nothing. I knew what he was implying, what he was really trying to do. Outwardly, I was calm, but inside, I was fuming. This was his gambit at gaining control over me again. He was punishing me for testing him in the first place. Right then and there, I made a vow to myself to do whatever I had to in order to ensure he couldn’t or wouldn’t marry me off to one of those pigs.

Dad opened his mouth to talk more, but his phone rang, and I took a deep breath and darted into the bathroom. I was about to brush my teeth when I heard his tone go sharp. Something was wrong, but he was talking too quickly and quietly for me to make out what was going on. My stomach twisted into knots. Had something happened to Penelope? Or Wes? P and P? My mom?

Not bothering to brush my teeth after all, I left the bathroom. “What’s going on?”

Dad ended the call. “Pack up your things.”

“Dad, what’s going on?” I repeated. I couldn’t help feeling nervous and scared. My stomach—filled with too much food—churned enough that I thought I might have to rush back into the bathroom.

“I said to pack your things.” He already has his suitcase opened and was packing himself.

Although I wanted to bug him until he started talking, I didn’t. I raced around the room, grabbing my things, my anxiety building with every passing second. I almost forgot to grab my toiletries from the bathroom, but I got them too.

“Hurry up,” he grumbled. “I won’t talk to you until we’re back in the car.”

The way he said that, his tone of voice…I was even more worried now. He left to take out his luggage, and I kept on packing. Had to check beneath the beds and every drawer. Dad was notorious for leaving things behind.

The entire time, I was panicking. What if it had nothing to do with someone getting sick or an accident? What if it was something worse? The worst it could be—had someone found out about Wes and me? Dad wouldn’t take me to be married off right now, would he?

Dad came back into the room as I was zipping up my suitcase. “Please, just tell me,” I begged. “I have to know.”

He grabbed the handle.

“Dad. Please,” I pleaded, grabbing onto his arm.

He looked down at me. “All right,” he relented begrudgingly.

I held my breath.

“Roslyn…your mother. She is in the emergency room. She fell down the full flight of stairs.”