one I’d dreamed while awake?
Three days ago, the only boy
on my mind was Justin.
He was a dream too. A safe dream.
Safe, because he was unattainable,
something to adore from afar.
Like a snow-drenched mountain
or an evening star.
But what about Derek?
Journal Entry, March 26
Derek Colthorpe
told me
I’m pretty.
At least
I think
that’s what
he told
me.
Pretty?
Me?
And he
told me
he’d see
me on
Monday.
Do
I
dare
believe
him?
I Didn’t Dare
Hurt seemed too likely,
so on Monday I didn’t
go looking for him.
I was a campus loner,
anyway, walking solo
between classrooms,
eating lunch with my sister.
Imagine my surprise
when he found me
at the noon break.
He smiled at Jackie.
Hi. Then he turned to me.
Can I talk to you
for a minute?
You should have seen
Jackie’s face as the two
of us started away.
Derek steered me toward
a quiet spot. Pattyn,
I know I’m not exactly
your type…
He wasn’t my type?
Where could this
be going but bad?
What I mean is, I’m
not a Mormon.
Maybe we’re nothing
alike at all…
Understatement!
He was Chateaubriand.
I was hamburger.
He reached out
and touched my cheek.
But I’d really like
to see you again.
Not Sure
Whether it was his words
or his touch, but my face scorched.
So of course I came up with a really
great line. “Why?”
Derek’s smile narrowed.
Does that mean no?
I shook my head. “No.
I just need to know why.”
I don’t know…because you’re
smart and funny and…
Funny as in witty?
Or as in entertaining?
…and you’re not trying
to impress anyone.
Mostly because I didn’t
know I could impress anyone.
I happen to like you, Pattyn
Isn’t that a good enough reason?
It was the perfect reason.
“I like you, too, Derek.”
Okay, then. Friday night?
Brent’s having a party.
A party? How could I
possibly swing that?
Derek misunderstood my dazed look.
Second thoughts already?
“No, it’s not that…
not that at all….”
You sure? ’Cause maybe this
will change your mind….
He Kissed Me
Not
an over-the-top,
hard
demanding
kiss, not even
a kiss hinting
passion.
No tongue, no spit,
just a
sweet first
kiss, Derek’s
soft
full lips
gifting mine with a gentle
caress.
I thought I’d die on the spot.
(Later I wished I had.)
As he walked me back to where
Jackie still sat, doe-eyed.
Amazed.
He didn’t know, but Jackie
did, that I was someone new.
Reborn.
The bell rang and he promised
to find me later.
Stunned,
I watched him go as Jackie
demanded, What happened?
Numb,
I wanted to tell her everything,
and I wanted to keep it all to myself,
frozen
inside, a perfect point of light
to focus on when everything fell dark.
As, of course, it must.
But I Told Her
A. She wouldn’t let me keep it secret and
B. I couldn’t keep something as incredible as that all to myself.
Jackie was almost as excited as I was.
He kissed you? Oh, Patty! He’s so cute!
She even helped me hatch a plan to get out
of the house on Friday.
There’s a Ward dance on Friday. He can
pick you up there.
I hardly ever went to Ward dances. Transportation
was always an issue.
Mom can drop you off. We’ll tell her you
have a ride home.
Who knew my sister could be so devious?
And who knew if her plan would work?
It Worked Great
You see, coed church functions
were meant to relieve the teen
hormonal thing, with close
enough supervision
to assure the chastity thing.
I’m glad you want to go,
Mom said. It’s about time
you discovered boys.
If only she knew! Should she
know? Part of me felt guilty
that I hadn’t confided. The smarter
part told me to keep my mouth
clamped tight. “What about Dad?”
Don’t you worry about
your father. Even he knows
you have to grow up sometime.
Growing up was one thing.
Discovering boys yet another.
But lying about the basic “who, when,
and where” was fundamentally wrong.
Did I have another choice?
A nice young man is in God’s
plans for you. Your father and I
can’t argue with that.
Now Mom spoke for God. Did
He define “nice young man”
as an LDS boy with a testimony?
And would my parents argue
when I told them I wanted more?
And you’re never going to find
that young man sitting around
the house every Friday night.
Valid point, one I wouldn’t argue
with, though I might have before.
I had my way out, my pass
to Brent’s party. What would
happen after that, I had no clue.
Journal Entry, April 1
Went to a party at Brent’s
last night. Okay, more like a
drink-smoke-and-make-out fest.
But, hey, I was with Derek,
and for the first time in my life,
people looked at me with respect.
Maybe even envy.
The Ward dance started at seven.
Derek picked me up at eight.
By nine, he had convinced me
to try a sip of his beer. “Jesus
turned water into wine, didn’t He?”
True, but Jesus had little to do
with LDS doctrine.
Still, I’d considered the possibility
all week. I’m probably already damned,
for dating a nonbeliever. What could a sip—
or three or four—of beer hurt?
Odd taste, not great, but drink
enough, who cares?
Loose. I let loose. Not all the way
loose, but I laughed at not-real-funny
jokes and let Derek pull me up into
his lap. And when he kissed me,
I full-on kissed back.
I even let his hands wander.
At first I said no, of course.
I really thought I wasn’t at all
that kind of girl.
Guess what.
I am!
He was good, too. First he rubbed
my back. Then he lifted my hair
and kissed my neck, and I’ve never
had goose bumps like that before.
Then he slid his hands around
the front of me, lifting my breasts
and touching my nipples.
I wouldn’t let him go under my blouse,
but even over my clothes,
the way he made my body
feel is hard to describe.
Alive.
On edge.
In need.
In danger of spontaneous combustion.
Virtue was the last thing on my mind.
Then his watch beeped. Eleven.
Early to leave, but I wasn’t allowed
at that ball, anyway.
Derek took me home, and as we
kissed a very long good-bye,
I hoped everyone was asleep
so I’d be immune to questions.
Everyone was, except Jackie.
She wanted every last detail.
But how could I tell her all
she wanted to know without
admitting a crisis in faith?
I’d Done It
Lied
my way out of the house.
Cheated
certain punishment.
Stolen
moments with Derek
invaded
every waking thought,
infiltrated
every dream.
April passed like water
lost
in a downriver flow.
Struggling
to remain pure,
surrendering
ground to instinct,
upsetting
the scheme of things,
forgetting
more and more
my feminine role.
I’d Like to Tell You
I’d fallen head over heels in love
with Derek. I did feel something, but
it wasn’t the hearts and flowers
kind of love in my
dog-eared
books.
Looking back, it seems I should
have been in love with him. We did
all the things two people in
love were supposed
to do. Maybe
more.
I wanted to be with him all the
time, wanted the taste of his lips
on mine, his roaming fingers
on my hungry skin. His
fire to thaw
my ice.
But, though I was very much in lust
with him, I knew from the start we
were nothing like “forever.”
Maybe because forever
is such a scary
place.
Love or Lust
The need to be with Derek was intense.
Before school. During school.
After school. Instead of school. Saturdays.
Friday evenings, when I could.
I suppose I got careless about
who knew. And how much they knew.
Brent and Melina tolerated the tryst;
sometimes we rode quads together.
Justin and Tiffany mostly ignored us,
unless it was Derek’s turn to score beer.
Becca and Emily pretended interest.
Later, I found out why.
Ms. Rose winked and slipped me her
personal copy of Sappho’s Leap.
Hand in hand with her new boyfriend,
Carmen flashed smiles. Evil smiles.
I kept thinking once everyone got
used to the idea, things would come easier.
But Everything Came Harder
Seminary.
Sacrament meetings.
Sunday rituals.
Too many questions,
not enough answers.
Where did free will fit here?
Homerooms.
Classrooms.
Crowded hallways.
No place to hide to feed
the growing hunger.
Derek’s. And mine.
Kitchen duty.
Diaper duty.
Daughterly duty.
Too many “had to”s,
left not enough time
for “want to”s.
Honesty.
Sobriety.
My virginity.
No way to regain
the first two, I almost
gave away the last.
One Problem with Alcohol
Is the more you drink it
the more you want it.
If a little lets you forget
a bit of your pain,
more lets you crawl into
a fuzzy space where
nothing hurts at all. Amen.
Saturdays became drinking
days—don’t think the irony
is one iota lost on me.
Derek would meet me in
the desert, painkiller in
hand. First beer, then hard
stuff. The only thing I insisted
on was no Johnnie WB.
Okay, it’s a weird psychology
but something inside of me
maintained only Johnnie
could hook me for good.
The higher I got, the harder
it got to hang on to my jeans.
Derek was skillful, coloring
his need to look like desire,
like I was all he’d ever wanted.
But every time I came really
close to just giving in, I
saw faces: Our bishop, reciting,
Better to die defending your
virtue than to live having lost
it without a struggle.
Brother Prior, A true Mormon
would rather bury a child
than see her lose her chastity.
My dad, I’ll kill the first
SOB who lays a hand on you.
He Almost Got His Chance
The first Saturday in May.
I’d gone for my usual “target practice,”
which by then, of course, meant an
overheated session with Derek.
By noon, we had downed a half pint
of tequila, my buttons were askew,
and Derek was trying to escape
his zipper when I noticed
a lone figure
striding our way.
The purposeful gait was familiar.
“Derek, I think that’s my dad.”
We struggled to straighten
our clothes. Stashed the bottle.
Derek fished in his pocket for
breath mints as I picked up
the rifle, took aim at nothing
and let go a round.
Shootin’ sand,
little girl?
My head spun from mescal and
jumping up too quickly.
I felt my face drain from red
to white. Derek’s stayed red.
Aren’t you going
to introduce us?
“Sorry! Dad, this is my friend
Derek. He was, uh, riding his quad
and he heard me shooting. I’ve
been giving him tips.”
Riding your quad
and what else, boy?
Nothing, sir. Not a thing.
It’s good to meet you, Mr. Von
Stratten. Patty has told
me a lot about you.
Did she tell you I named
her Pattyn?
Embarrassment branded my
cheeks. “Please be civil, Dad.”
Dad looked at me like
I’d flat gone crazy.
Civil? You’re out here
alone, doing God knows what…
Could he smell the tequila?
Were my buttons crooked?
“We were just shooting
targets…” I tried.
I’ve heard all about
the two of you….
I swear, as I watched, Dad’s
eyes grew black. Black.
No more denial. “Okay,
we’ve been dating.”
Interesting word for
what you’ve been doing.
You’re finished here. Let’s go.
Dad pulled me away. I glanced
back over my shoulder.
Derek shrugged, then
started his quad.
Damn good thing I
didn’t catch you in the act.
You’d both be dead.
My Friends Were Spies
Okay, maybe not exactly spies,
but Becca told her mom
about Derek and me.
Her mom, a notorious gossip,
spread the word at her
bridge club.
Sister Hobart soaked up
the news and came
blabbing to my mom.
My mom, who knew I’d
been seeing someone, was
shocked he wasn’t Mormon.
Mom asked Bishop Crandall
for advice. He said to tell Dad,
then bring me in for counseling.
And that’s why the next day at
sacrament meeting everyone made it