Innocent Little Crimes (24 page)

Lila’s father would often stop mid speech and
go to the door to scan the skies and listen, as if he could hear
that trumpet. To Lila, the prospect of being swept away in the
clouds with the Lord scared her. She saw a bumper sticker on a car
that read: “Beware—in the rapture, this car will be driverless.”
She envisioned car accidents the length of I-5 as drivers were
pulled by some mighty magnet up into the stratosphere.

Her schoolmates were oblivious to their
impending doom. If Lila tried to warn them, they laughed, as her
father predicted they would. “They’re faithless unbelievers,” he
told her, “and they will suffer at God’s hand. Just like in Noah’s
day.” It filled Lila with trepidation to think God would torture
her friends whose only sin, as far as she could tell, was that they
went to a different church than she. Her mind was constantly
bombarded with images of fire and brimstone, and the screams of
people in pain. The impending rapture shadowed everything she did,
making her daily, mundane activities seem pointless. Not until
she’d left home did she realize how warped and unusual her
perspective of life had been.

Lila spent her high school years under tense
fear and anxiety. Her father stirred up his household with near
hysteria. He quoted Jesus’ admonition not to go back into the house
for any reason when the sun darkened. Be “constantly prepared” was
his motto, or “that day will take you unawares.” He scolded Lila
whenever she displayed a bad attitude or gave in to temptation.

“ ‘
If your hand makes you stumble, cut
it off; it is finer for you to enter into life maimed than with two
hands to go off into hell, where the maggot cannot die and the fire
is not put out.’ ” George made it clear that if he had to cut off
her hand, he’d do it. He would do whatever it took to get his
family into the holy kingdom.

Each night, he stood behind Lila in the glow
of her lamp as she said her prayers while kneeling against the
coverlet of her bed. Her father’s presence smothered her as he
stood inches behind her; his breathing quickening as she spoke in a
measured, self-conscious voice. Although she knew what was coming,
she jumped each time she felt the hardness of his body as he leaned
on her back and pressed against her, wordlessly. Although he never
made another move, this frightened her more than all his yelling
and cursing. Through her cotton gown, from her earliest memories,
she could feel him tremble; was it from rage or holy spirit? Or
something else? Fear made her long to race through her prayers, but
experience taught her she’d only have to start over and have to
endure that alien hardness of him that much longer. She would
finish her prayers in a solemn tone, her father supplying the
“amen” at the end.

After sixteen years with the sword of
wrath hanging over her head, Lila felt hopelessly trapped. She ate
herself into senselessness. Her father stopped punishing her by
withholding food and Lila made up for the starvation years with a
vengeance. Her only joy was going to the movies with her one
friend, Carrie Hancock. Like Lila, Carrie also drowned her
adolescent anxieties by eating everything she could get her hands
on. Carrie, for her own reasons, was also an outcast. The two girls
huddled together like packrats in the dark theater—hoarding boxes
of Raisinettes, Dots, and buckets of popcorn. At school, they sat
in the back of the classroom and passed notes, making fun of all
the cute, style-conscious girls that flirted with the boys. They
told themselves they were above all that teenage mush, but lapped
up every romantic movie that came to town. Secretly, they yearned
for love, but believing it unattainable, ate for comfort. Food was
something that never let them down—instant gratification and
guaranteed calories. Lila believed the layers of fat would protect
her heart from ever getting broken. And the best part was,
she
controlled her weight; her
father couldn’t.

Lila began to see through the hypocrisy of
her father’s zeal. His main incentive, through his preaching, was
accumulating money. Like the television evangelists she watched,
her father made repeated urgings to the members of his flock to dig
hard into their pocketbooks and wallets and give to the church. He
judged a person by what they gave, and if he thought they were
holding back, he condemned them.

Lila recalled one time her father dragged her
to the hospital to visit a sick, elderly woman. Seeing a hospital
ward full of dying people gave her the creeps. She stood next to
the elevated bed containing the decrepit body of Mrs. McHaney, a
smelly woman who whimpered piteously. Nurses shuffled by, smiles
pasted on their faces. When George Carmichael told his daughter to
give Mrs. McHaney a kiss on her leathery cheek, Lila refused. She
knew if she touched that lady’s skin, she would throw up.
Undoubtedly, she would contract the woman’s fatal illness.

George led his daughter out to the car, then
slapped her across the face. Didn’t she know how much money this
woman had? Lila had probably ruined their chances of persuading the
widow to donate her estate to the church. He fumed the entire way
home. Lila noticed that he never uttered a word of compassion for
the old woman’s pain; all he saw were dollar signs. With his eyes
fixed on the road, he explained to Lila why the money was so
important. How it took money to run a church, pay the rent and
utilities, buy the hymnals. Didn’t she understand? She did, and
even at that young age, she understood more than he surmised. The
church remained decrepit, their lives stayed impoverished, but her
father’s bank account flourished.

Lila’s father was thorough in his attempt at
destroying his daughter’s happiness. When Carrie’s parents
divorced, George refused to let Lila play with her best friend. God
forbids divorce, he told her; Carrie’s house reeked of sin. And
when her father realized Lila sneaked away to see Carrie, he fixed
it permanently. Lila never learned what he said to Mrs. Hancock,
but the family moved away abruptly; Carrie never even said
good-bye.

After she left, Lila felt lonelier than ever.
She plodded through her last year in high school, simmering with
hurt and anger. The kids at school were cruel, the teachers
unsympathetic. Lila’s only distraction from her pain was the movie
house, and the more she watched the silver screen, the stronger her
desire to act, to escape, to find a way, whatever it took, to leave
home. Lila knew she had to make the break, and having no money left
her with little choice. She asked her school counselor about
college scholarships and found out she was eligible to apply.
Knowing her parents would never approve, she forged their
signatures on the application forms and the income statements,
fearing that any moment God would strike her dead. By spring, she
had been accepted into The Evergreen State College in Olympia,
right in her own backyard. Her roommate would be a girl named
Millie Stevens from Brussels, Wisconsin.

All summer she fretted over how to break the
news. September came and she couldn’t postpone leaving any longer.
She took the coward’s way out. While her parents were shopping for
a new sofa, she left them a brief note. She hastily packed and
caught the bus at the corner. Only after leaving her neighborhood,
Lila stopped looking behind her.

Ten minutes later, she arrived at the campus.
An air of excitement and energy surrounded her. Kids hurrying
across the Plaza, calling out to one another. Registering for
classes. Racing around the bookstore clutching reading lists. Lila
breathed it all in, terror mixed with excitement. She was a caged
animal that had escaped the zoo. All these young people, seemingly
without a care. No one could know what it cost Lila to come this
far.

She watched these confident kids work
through the registration process, and with her flair for mimicry,
repeated their actions. She went up to her dorm and unlocked the
door to a small and neat room with two identical beds, desks, and
dressers. Her roommate had already arrived. One bed had a sweater
tossed on it. One desk had books neatly stacked. The sight thrilled
her. To Lila, this was the most beautiful room in the world.
Her
room. A place where her father
could never touch her again.

After she unpacked her small suitcase, she
walked around Red Square, then took the beach trail to the edge of
the Sound. Lila drank in the beautifully landscaped and wooded
campus.

As she stood at the water’s edge, Lila made a
vow. She would be a different person here at Evergreen. She would
make friends and be cheerful and study hard and make something of
her life. No more standing in the shadows, on the sidelines.
Somehow, she would find a way to explain this to her parents,
knowing they would never understand or accept her decision. Knowing
the walls of her house were going to cave in from her father’s
wrath. He could come and physically drag her home, but she knew the
law. She was eighteen and a legal adult. He had no power over her
anymore.

Davis awoke with a start. In the dark, it
took him a few moments to reorient. He jumped out of bed,
remembering his ankle only after he put weight on it. Once more, he
fell to the floor in pain. He stopped moving and listened.
Definitely voices; far enough away, but he wasn’t going to waste
any time waiting for company. He sneered. Lila must have sent the
wolves out after him. He wasn’t out of “Siberia” yet. How long had
he dozed? Minutes or hours? He cursed himself for not looking for
that radio. Without light, how could he scour the cabin for a means
of escape?

He would have to search the beach. Someone
would have a boat dock. And someone was bound to have a boat, if
only a rowboat. Or should he find a closet and hide? What if they
found him? The last thing he wanted was a lengthy argument about
marrying Lila.

Quickly, he buttoned his coat and wrapped the
scarf around his pounding head. He felt so hot. Outside, the storm
raged, but he had no other options. He would not to become Lila’s
next meal. He thought about Cynthia, sleeping safely in bed. Now he
wished he had stayed with her, rubbing up against her warm, smooth
skin. He shook the thought from his mind. Before opening the door,
he scanned his surroundings through the broken window. The voices
were louder but indistinguishable. He saw nothing but dark and
shadow.

He eased out through the door, his aching
foot dragging behind. His head felt like a hot iron and sweat
poured down his temples. He had to go on, even if it meant crawling
back to Marin County. He hobbled over to the shadows of the trees
and listened again. The waves crashed close by. He followed their
sound until he reached the beach, where his leg collapsed under him
and he could no longer move from the horrific pain.

Chapter 24

Whatever apprehension Lila felt about meeting
Millie Stevens, vanished the moment her new roommate clunked into
the dorm room. The door heaved open and Millie stumbled in, a
short, stocky girl wearing loose jeans and a black sweatshirt. Her
mop of curly light brown hair swished around apple-red cheeks.
Tripping over two heavy suitcases, Millie collapsed onto the floor,
laughing herself silly.

“Hi.” Millie smiled from the rug. “You must
be Lila.”

Lila offered her hand. “That’s me. In the
flesh. All of it.”

Lila was relieved. Her roommate was ordinary
and nice, not some gorgeous coed with an attitude. Within five
minutes, Lila learned that Millie, too, was escaping a father’s
domination. And best of all, she wasn’t thin. An instant bond
formed.

A week went by with no word from her parents,
but finally Darla called, informing Lila of her father’s anger and
disappointment. Lila, feeling safe at last, reassured her mother
the importance of an education. She couldn’t live at home forever,
supported by her parents. Didn’t the Bible encourage children to be
able to take care of their parents in their old age? How did they
expect her to do that without any job skills? Maybe she would study
nursing or teaching. Lila’s mother was calmed by the altruistic
arguments but voiced her dismay. Why couldn’t she have gone to a
clerical school if she wanted skills? Darla finally hung up,
partially assuaged, and Lila breathed a sigh of relief.

Lila waited for her father’s rage to descend
upon her. She had a recurring nightmare where he stormed the campus
and dragged her out of some class, humiliating her in front of her
peers. So, his letter, arriving a week after the start of school,
seemed anticlimactic. He warned her of the devil’s work in colleges
today. Not one line demanding she return home. A short, neatly
printed letter that she tore up. She vowed to never think of her
past life again.

Millie talked to Lila about Wisconsin. How
she hated the smell of curdling cheese and the miles of boring,
flat farmland. Lila roared when Millie described a typical date in
her home town. The guy would take her to a local bar and ignore her
as he drank pitchers of beer with the other guys while they fed
moths to the fish in the tank behind the bar. That was romance,
Wisconsin style.

When Millie questioned her roommate about her
background, Lila was not as forthcoming. Her answers were terse.
She was a local girl, came here on scholarship. Her folks were
religious. Millie respected her reticence and didn’t pry.

Millie gave Lila a tour of the campus while
Lila drove Millie crazy with her jokes about cheese. As they walked
to class, Lila kept up an endless patter. “Look, Mil, isn’t this
beautiful? Just like the garden of Edom. Cheeze Whiz, Mil, say
something. Oh, doesn’t his voice make you cheddar with desire? It
makes my blood curdle.” Millie giggled at all her jokes. Once more
Lila greased her way into friendship with humor. But, this time,
she knew Millie really liked her. And she really liked Millie. She
had a true friend at last.