“I will walk you to your dorm.” Grabbing my jacket Briggs indulged in what people call gentlemanlike behavior.
Four wheeled automobile hummed downcast the street, creating goose bumps on the sleeves of my cover up. No intention to sail on home to visit old ma and pa, meant no regard for buying transportation. Everything was in basic walking distance.
“Where do you live?” Look in opposing directions, checking clearance to walk across the street. Found wondering how much dedication for this specific stroll took.
“Half a block or so.” Pointing at the absent air; no apartments in that direction. I became nervous, his smile remaining sweet.
Images of getting chopped up by a guy who denoted me the obscure Amish girl. Regret from knocking on my door becoming unbearable for Briggs.
“Don’t worry, I’ve been here half the year. I think I know my way around.” Spooky music echoed off the pavement, our strides accord. I’ve been here 4 months and couldn’t fathom the name of this Christian college.
“Do you have friends?”
“No.” Kept to myself, as I should.
“I didn’t take you as being a hermit.” Wasn’t that a crab?
“It’s okay. I don’t enjoy meeting new people either.” Assure yourself I’d met new people. Various creeds and colors of name worthy individuals. If insisted these new people did not recollect these meetings, doesn’t mean it didn’t count.
“I take classes over there. Business lectures, along with occasional promotion policies.” Edged up to campus now. Points to a building not far from where we stood. I remember for a minute who he. A familiar face, a friend, now hopeful to be future companion.
“I’m in those buildings, sociology major, and emphasis in gang violence research.” Crucial notes of joking lost in the delivery.
Was it showing?
“Oh that sounds interesting, Trae Lae.” I don’t know if he identifies the absurdity yet. Should I quote of being humorous?
“I know you’re kidding, Trae Lae.” I was going to tell you that Briggs.
“You’re good at the whole keeping the conversation alive thing.” Hands plummeted deep into jacket pockets before they could reclaim position around chilly earlobes. Gave a wink; reassurance that I in fact spoke too much.
“Getting any close or should I call a cab?” The brisk air was now indulging around my warm exoskeleton, rushing into things Mr. Idaho.
“We passed it.” Walking for a short while, recognizing now the posts of BYU limits.
“You what?” Confused taking myself out from the equation. Briggs located on top of the podium to accept liability for acts I partook.
“I missed the turn. I’m...” The whole I’m sorry thing, resilient of its coming together.
“Let’s call a cab, getting freezing out here.” The fictional dead cell phone chimed from his pocket.
“You going to call ghost headquarters with that drained mobile?” Shifted foot prints around the frosted landscape.
“Not dead, either was the car.” He lied, I let this man into my apartment with a lie. The revelation clear on how those naive actors get hacked so quickly.
“How’d you get here?” My question perked interest into his life and that wasn’t my direct goal. Goal at hand was to turn tables and motivate myself not to show the little girl scared.
“My aunt lives in Salt Lake City. She thought it’d be a good idea to be around good examples without running wild across the country with a chopped off head.” His hands clasped and intertwined with each other. Wondering what a sensation to hold those palms with mine.
“She brought you here?” Digressions not his only punishment.
“I got into trouble in high school, too many principal visits and police station phone calls.” Our steadiness between us.
“After graduating it was either this or join the forces.” Used the word forces, like a jack in the joke box. Our culture didn’t believe in fighting in times of war; nevertheless neither did the pot smoking hippies. Notice how our contemporary concepts survive.
“She sent me here to straighten out the rough edges. This LDS thing everybody has got going on, the, ‘chosen ones’ in her words.” I looked at him in a funny glance. Audible roughly these chosen ones, Jonah once chosen got swallowed by a whale.
“Are you Mormon?” Worry had stricken my joints. Why? I couldn’t find a clue.
“Once upon a time I was the opposite of Christlike. One might call Jack Mormon. Going to be better though.” Nudged the top of my shoulder.
Laughter.
I enjoyed the laugh, comforting to know I wasn’t the only outcast at this school.
“The whole polygamy thing they got going on, isn’t that wild? I mean how many students you think share the same dad here?” We laughed as a group of young girls who looked in coincident alike, moseyed on.
“How is that not against the law?”
“I’m stumped too.” Shrugged defiant shoulders.
“You know something, no one likes to talk about it.” True. Once I tried to bring it up with one of my roommates. She told me it wasn’t a part of their church now. Mormon, LDS, whatever they labeled themselves as, it sounded the same to me. Refusals to speak with me the rest of the semester. It’s been going incredibly constructing friendships.
“I guess in these western states, everything is leeway from the natural world.” Eyes widen, chuckling at the circumstance we made fun. Where I came from the leaders cut people’s tongues out for spouting out gossip. Yet here I was poking sticks at a religion who welcomed me, on most days. Tongue-in-cheek. Briggs and I engulfed in one another’s humor.
“Will you take me back home?” We were blocks away from his car and I made it obvious I lacked motivation to converse. I wanted to be alone and peaceful.
We made our way back through crosswalks and cars halting at our right of way. He walked a few steps behind me giving the solitary woman her liberating space.
We shuffled back to the apartment complex I saw a woman carrying in bags of groceries in one hand and a babe or two in the other. Her husband watching mediocre at the window smoking a cigar.
I didn’t understand this, and don’t think I ever will. No recognition of the duty in myself the way a wife lived in service for her husband, the way my mother had done for my father. Raise the children he had placed into her, neglecting to do other than be a role of command.
Laundry, I couldn’t stand and sewing was the way women made clothing. Disgusted in the ways needles moved through thread and fabric. Eternally grateful for lounge wear.
No one was getting out alive.
He stopped at my front door unsure where to go from here. I didn’t make a reach for the knob, I was unclear what to do next as well.
“I’ll see you around, Trae Lae.” Gave a wave as he turned back toward the stone steps.
“Just Trae, Briggs. Trae is just fine.” He became elated I spoke to him.
Overjoyed to get under my covers. With a book stamped with my colony’s disapproval. I can hear my enforcer now, “Literature fills young minds with ideas that are not based on our beliefs or the beliefs of our God.” Fairytale romances, gave ideas to be something other than a domestic servant to future spouse.
Got me there, all I ever wished for was to be a servant. Take the pride, remove the dignity instilled in me. Be the commercial wife to these men whom I have no attachments to whatsoever. Sign me up for that parade, every day of my munificent life.
Sarcasm, well that I’m still trying to figure out, let alone conquer. Humor I didn’t understand until the age of 18. The triplets at camp taught me blonde jokes, but I didn’t understand how the color of your hair made you less intelligent. That was before I came to Idaho.
I know what you’re thinking, immature Amish girl you don’t know Idaho or the normalcy in place. My assumption is they rode tractors all day and let the heat fry their daddies’ brain cells. To be honest I’ve grown potatoes and it should be a
course of knowledge.
I began rehearsing in my head the blonde joke including a microwave or television? The door began to knock for the 2nd time that night.
I checked the chronometer, 1:00 a.m. My roommates yet to gather home, yes a curfew is set, everyone followed except them. Quick to spring from my bedpost. Hurry to the door, I remember answering the door the first time tonight. I should grab a weapon. Hello, baseball bat may be be nice if I knew how to swing it.
“Who is it?” Probed from the other side of the door. In confusion, was I supposed to answer back?
“I think I’m supposed to ask the questions!” He jerked the door handle; a yelp escaping.
“Hello, again! I thought you’d still be awake.” Briggs Byington walked through the threshold once again tonight. More chipper than earlier statements.
“What…” Arms at my sides, the invisible bat hide for safe keeping.
“Don’t you mean why am I here inside your living room not dripping wet again?” Stunned in my stare.
“First off no more soaker-fest outside. Second, it’s somewhat early and I figured you didn’t want to be alone. It’s probable that your roommates aren’t going to back tonight.” He didn’t know what I wanted. I spoke, nothing came out to prance. It was noises, I didn’t say much. I turned and walked to the sink to do the dishes; he followed my steps.
I shouldn’t have let him come in that way, or stay near me I could breathe the same air he once circulated through his entire body.
Frigid in the motions created for us. It was quiet. I needed this silence to captivate my being in ways I wanted to be ignored. How I had gotten here didn’t matter as much as why I was here I thought.
He required to be next to me; my personal space was drawing him nearer, gravitating in a way.
“Why did you pick this university to come too? Or go abroad?” He flipped over the back of the plate washing it firmly; impressed he’d done dishes. More soap insisted on being added; bubbles created for playtime.
Abroad? We’re allowed to leave the country now? Confusion struck about his inclinations came acceptable. Where was I supposed to be? Questionable statements being written upon my stubborn face. To be honest the choice left up to fate and other magical creatures interfering with humanity.
“First one I found on the internet.” I scrubbed as well. Silence beckoned us and he shook his head.
“Tell me something no one knows about you Trae.” Eyes never meeting mine, wanting this to be real. A list of everything I could profess to him; I ached for this to be real.
“I joined a circus.” He anticipated for the butt of the joke. I didn’t give into the hilarity he craved.
“What were you, the Bearded Lady?” Nudging my ribs; wasn’t polite if you inquire me.
“I’m not kidding! The tight rope ballerina.” I flipped myself through the air; sure to point and extend the delicate toes.
“Looks like you acquire skills, Trae Lae!” Smiling was a characteristic I indulged in rarity. Under the manner of disguise to play a part.
“I partook in a manner of degree.” I was cheeky the act I portrayed.
We laughed, immersed in one another’s existences’.
It was a short time before we came back to reality and soon we were feeling what we had always felt. An awkward unknowing spark.
“Can I see a picture of you, from Indiana?” Dishes completed, he still lingered wanted more.
Torn in two parallel direction, I gave up in slow motions leading my bedroom.
Fantasy of Briggs and I wrapped up in a chaotic love story. As we made way to my bungalow, I realized I hadn’t shared it with anyone. I pulled out a shoe box. Painted pink for justifiable misleading.
Inside were many things. Such stuff included; a postcard I’d been meaning to send to the triplets and ringmaster, other letters, and a baseball card Malachi initialed. I traced my cuticles around the edges before placing it beneath the other inanimate objects. Under the small stack of incurring past, there I was. A bonnet placed on my head, from what my parents call my glory days. I handed over to him.
“Wow, Trae Lae! I can’t believe you wore this!” His jokes were understandable; I smiled in bargain.
“Your father and mother look sociable.” Pointing to the tall man and then his lovely bride, my younger siblings and the eldest brother.
“Yes.”
“Who's this guy with his arm slung around you?”
“My brother. Eliminated, you could say.” I didn’t mean to say it that way. Nonetheless his demise selected for him. For the longest time, I struggled to understand their belief scheme. Trials in my brother’s life vindicated him into the opposite of habitual development.
My elder brother left me nothing; not a note on the table, a portrait to hang on the wall. The rebellion of my colleague left me nothing; not even a gracious goodbye.
I gave him time. My assets of respect and moral retribution. I looked up to him. He glanced beyond to find me, asking for an indulgent arrow.
“Drunk driving.” My configuration steadied itself on the bed. Shrug off shoulders; he looked at me with eyes filled with ache and pain. I wonder why he felt this hurt for an individual he knew not the last name.
“I thought the Amish don’t use automobiles or take photos, something like stealing your soul?” He stroked my mirrored image.
“It is frowned upon in absolute. My brother, had the rebellious boldness.” Taking the photograph from his grip, dropping its crinkle exterior. The wind began to pick up outside my window. Briggs wrapped his thick arms around my tiny exterior, knocking me over in defeat. I pushed away. Provided I couldn’t handle his will, the sympathy he wished to place on me. I told him to go before I was the one left on the floor. Was I wrong in pushing this fatality upon him? Shoved against not tulips or roses, but genuine coincidence. Be there times, my brother once recited, times where an awkward stance meant winning or losing. A lose in this situation might be worth it. Winning, was advised for quitters. Could I afford to win my dignity and lose this enabling fella?
Clarity, the voices inside me told me I could not, in unsatisfying consequences could not make my first choosing, in which I happened upon the latter. It was okay to be loved. Acceptance in a distant way we deserved to be a part of it. I can’t control these thoughts and the movements next to you. I wish to break us a part and not bring us together. His hand leading me nowhere. My own small prints following in the footsteps of his nature.
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