Body of Ash (4 page)

Having Jason separate from her family was like having a life in another worl
d. With him she could be as funny and carefree
as she wanted because she wasn’t confined to being a pastor’s child.  On the back of his dirt bike or in his arms, she was no longer bound to the pressure of being Pastor
Jones
’s only daughter.

Pushing her pasta around on her plate, she couldn’t force herself to eat. The table setting was lovely with its white table cloth and sterling flatware. The silver was polished and the linens were pressed. Even the lasagna was served in a casserole dish instead of the flimsy aluminum pan it came in. It was all for appearances, they never ate together anymore.

Today was her birthday. Tomorrow was
Halloween
. There were a hundred places she would rather be with Jason. They could share fries and milkshakes with their friends at
Lucinda’s
Diner
, play a round of mini golf at The Cove, or
better yet, go to Six Flags.

“Rachel, your father is speaking to you.” Her mother’s tartness brought her back to the room – to her need to please them.
“He has your gift.” Angela Jones
was wearing a tailored business suit.

She can’t wear jeans and a sweatshirt like most moms.

Her father
looked at her. His eyes revealed a distance they both could feel.

When she was younger, she revered him like his Sunday morning worshippers.  With a child’s
naivety, she believed Brian Jones
walked a narrow path, in route to a higher moral plain. Last week, she heard he was spending evenings in Katie Finch
’s mother’s bedroom, guiding her in
a private Bible Study.

“Well, since dinner is over, we might as well give you your gift,” he said. In his hand was a large manila envelope. With a smirk, the same one he gave parishioners when they needed a reminder to tithe, he slid it across the table to her. 
“Happy birthday, Darling.”

Rachel glanced at Jason. She wanted to hold his hand while she opened it, wanted the security of his nearness, his
promise of a reality outside of these four walls. He was unaware of the fear brewing in the pit of her stomach. Her parents didn’t believe in buying gifts. 

Sliding her fingers along the sealed end, she felt the unpleasant sting of a paper cut.  Bright crimson stained the glossy brochure as she slid it from the sleeve. Confused, she glanced at her mother.  Angel
a’s face was expressionless
.

Rachel
looked down at the booklet in h
er grasp. “Miss Hall’s School
…It’s a boarding school?” As the words passed her lips, her
head grew dizzy. “It’s in Pittsfield
.”

Far from home, far from my life here.

“You’re lea
ving on Monday. I
’ve made all the arrangements,” Brian offered, but he stared at his wife.
“It’s a wonderful opportunity.”

Is he waiting for her to disagree?

Rachel glanced beseechingly
at her mother, but Angela
stared at her plate, her own lasagna untouched.

Rachel’s throat dried up with the pleas she knew they
would not
acknowledge. Was this why they finally agreed to m
eet Jason
– so they could make it clear there was no room in her life for warmth? Or was this about the growing chasm between them? 

Are they sending me away so they can separate?

Setting her news on the table, she didn’t care that her drops of blood dripped on the perfect linen.
 

The evening passed before Rachel found the courage to test her voice again. She didn’t want the treble in her tone to give satisfaction to her parents. They didn’t deserve the chance to comment on her tears while cla
iming it was for her own good.

As she walked Jason outside, a breeze wove through the trees. She watched as a leaf skittered across the bottom step.  Rachel gripped his hand.  He was the only one who co
uld save her. 

In their year of dating, he had done just that. There were many days when his smile and laugh cut through the walls of self-doubt her parents built brick by unremitting brick.  It was th
e first time she felt heard
, her opinions and dislikes valued. 
Through his kisses, she believed he found her
beautiful and spirited. 

If sent away now, to a school as oppressive as her parents, she would get sucked back into t
he darkness he freed her from.

“Are you okay?”  Jason’s face bent to meet hers. From the way he me
t her eyes, he knew she wasn’t.

“Wh
at am I going to do?” H
er body trembled. Stepping into his embrace, she wanted him to wrap around her and shield her from the wind, the world,
h
er
parents. “I can’t go away.”

“It will be alright. I can come and visit you,” he whispered against her forehead.

As she leaned into him, she wanted to
believe it would be, but Pittsfield
was
over an hour
away.  Without Jason’s presence, she would suffocate. How long would it take before he grew tired of making the trip?  How long until the
only voice from home was that of her mother
or her grandmother with an excuse as to why they couldn’t visit?

Nausea spread through her middle as the thought of another girl on the back of Jason’s bike seeped into her mind. She wanted to rally against it, to fight and stomp the imagery into the walkway. Her tears burned her eyes and the back of her throa
t ached from holding it all in
.

So this is what it feels like when your heart breaks?

Burying her face into Jason’s chest, she breathed in his familiar scent. She tried clearing her mind to make a plan.
She was seventeen, almost old enough to leave home. Could she somehow escape them? An idea began to take hold. It wriggled in her
mind, unfolding possibilities.

“Maybe we can change this,” she stepped back just enough to meet his eyes. “You don’t want me to have to leave, right?” Her tone grew higher, along with her confidence.

Jason smiled, encouraging her to continue.

“You’re parents have a big place. I can work for them after school and on weekends to cover room and board. I’ll get a lawyer and file for emancipation or something like that.” Her words c
ame out in a rush, sounding
desp
erate, but it was all she had.

“I don’t know,” he offered, surprised with her suggestion.  “I c
an ask them.” 

“Don’t ask,
” she said, shaking her head, “
insist. Tel
l them that I’m being sent away
and it’s unfair.” Rachel stared at her boyfriend. He was nodding, but there was something beneath the surface of his expression.

Doubt?
He doesn’t think it will work?

“What is it?”

Jason’s arms dropped to his side.  He dragged his hand through his dark
hair
. “I want to help you, but I don’t want my paren
ts to get in trouble, either.”

“How would they get into trouble?” She was confused. His parents were wonderful;
she knew they would help her
.

All he has to do is ask.

“I don’t know, harboring a runaway or something,” he said looking down at his feet. His body had grown stiff and for the f
irst time, there was a hint of worry in his eyes.

Rachel grew colder. 
As she studied the one person she felt closest to, she realized the boarding school wasn’t the only thing about to put dis
tance between them. 

“I’ll come visit you,” he stated, before kissing the top of her head.
“We’ll Skype before bed and, who knows, maybe you’ll get a dirty little school girl’s uniform you can wear for me
.”  Offering her the same crooked grin she once found so endearing,
he traced his fingertips across her cheek.  “It won’t be so bad and it’s only until the end of the school year and we go away to college. Maybe we can even look into off campus housing so you don’t have to come back here at all.”

Rachel stepped into his arms, her tears wetting the front of his coat. “I don’t want to go.”

“I don’t want you to either,” he whispered. “We’ll find a way to make them change their minds.”

“I know them. They won’t.”

“Keep wearing your ring. Never take it off. When you’re scared, look at it and know that I’m thinking of you.” Pulling her tight to him, he kissed her forehead, then her lips.

“I will,” she said, gripping her first tightly. “I promise.”

“Good. In the meanwhile, I’ll think of something. We’ll change their minds.”

After one last
caress, Jason
turned his back and jogged down the sidewalk to where his bike was parked beneath the street light.

As she watched the Yamaha
’s engine roar to life, the sting of her paper cut was all she could feel.

7

ANGELA

Thursday 8:30 PM

Peering through the matchstick blinds, Angela stood just inside the foyer. The street lamp allowed her to observe her daughter, sitting alone on the steps. The sky was clear, but it was cold out. Still her daughter made no attempt to come in. With her chin tucked to her knees, Rachel’s shoulders quaked. Through the lightweight aluminum door, the low pitch of her weeping filtered in.

The news came as a blow.

Her daughter’s grief was painful to witness
. As a parent, she wanted to comfort her child, but Angela couldn’t allow a crack in her
resolve. She had to believe this was for her daughter’s own good, but the pain in her stomach revealed otherwise.

Turning slightly, she watched as Brian poured another glass of pinot noir. Dressed
in outdated corduroy, his bloated
body disgusted her. Greedily, his thick tongue licked the side of the glass. One of his favorite sermons was the importance
of abstaining from alcohol. What he didn’t share was that he seldom resisted any temptation.