Fraying at the Edge (10 page)

A
riana stared in the mirror, examining the scoop-neck, gray knit dress that molded to her body. Was this as good as it would get when it came to modesty?

Probably.

Dressing rooms were strange. The man-made illumination reminded her of something she'd never actually seen—an indoor, gloomy maze with electric lights that played tricks on the mind. How could electricity shine superwhite light that looked grimy and murky? It seemed to be another contradiction of the Englisch world.

She turned, looking at herself from one side and then the other. She would be self-conscious in this, but at least it had sleeves of some sort and came below her knees, barely. This room revealed flaws in her skin and body that Ariana had never noticed before. She looked pale and pudgy. Was she?

She stepped out of the dressing room, and the jingling sound of arm bangles let her know which direction to head to find Brandi. She spotted her browsing a rack of jeans. Brandi's blond hair was shiny and flouncy, and her nails were manicured with a fresh coat of burgundy. Was it her birth mom's outward appearance that nagged at Ariana so much? She pondered that for a bit and decided it wasn't, not really. The issue seemed to be that Brandi's life was molded to the world's ways and she was comfortable with it—in fact, pleased and happy with it.

There was suddenly a bitter taste in Ariana's mouth, as if her judgment against her mom was making her sick. She wanted to accept her parents, but it was so much harder than she'd expected. She'd become harsh and unkind on every topic, but she didn't know how to free herself. Were those things a part of her heart, or was she simply overwhelmed and irritable? A better question was how could she esteem God's Word as literal for herself and not judge others who viewed it differently…or in Nicholas's case didn't view God as God at all? God was clear about what was right and wrong, but how could she hold on to that while not judging others who didn't hold to it?

Brandi looked up, immediately smiling. “That looks very nice. Does it pass muster?”

Ariana didn't really understand the phrase
pass muster,
but she knew what Brandi meant. The answer was
not really.
But if she didn't find something acceptable today, she was afraid Nicholas would pick her clothes for her.

Ariana tugged at the waist. “Perhaps one size larger would fix it.”

“Oh, honey,”—Brandi moved closer and pulled in the sides—“I could easily take four inches out from under the arms to the hem. It just feels snug because it follows the curves of your body, but there's plenty of room.”

Ariana tugged at it. What would Rudy think of her dressing like this? “It's kind of you to take the time and to spend good money on me. Thank you.”

Brandi's brows furrowed. “Let's buy this and keep moving. Time is flying.”

Whatever thoughts had run through Brandi's mind a moment ago when her eyebrows knit, she wasn't voicing them. They found four dresses, and they hurried to their next destination. Their long strides took them by a blur of scantily dressed mannequins, more styles and colors of women's clothing than Ariana had imagined existed, and rows of bright counters with beautiful women selling makeup, perfume, and jewelry. Soon enough Ariana was in a hairdresser's chair and facing a mirror while a girl not much older than she fussed over her, asking a gazillion questions about what she would like. She wanted to wear her prayer Kapp and keep her hair in a bun. It had taken all of Ariana's willpower to remove her prayer Kapp in public without bursting into tears.

“We have to cut some of this.” The girl stared into the mirror, looking at Ariana.

Ariana's pulse raced. She glanced at Brandi and shook her head. “We're not supposed to cut our hair.”

“We?” The hairdresser's eyes reflected confusion, and she glanced at Brandi. “Well, whoever
we
is, it's your hair, and it's great. But it's so long, the last five inches are really thin.”

“No, I…can't.”

Brandi stepped forward. “Could you give us a minute?”

The hairdresser nodded and left.

Brandi stood behind Ariana's chair as if she were the hairdresser. She stroked Ariana's head. “Honey, I don't know if my opinion counts, but I'm going to share it. There is a lot happening every second on this planet: life and death, joyous events and horrendous suffering. I don't know which outweighs the other, but humanitarians—Christian and otherwise—log a lot of money, energy, and hours trying to ease the affliction of millions on a daily basis. It's been a lot of years since I've opened the Bible, but I remember it says that all good things come from God, so He's bound to be on the side of fighting for good. Right?”

“Yes.”

“Can you see Him looking down on Earth and being so narrow as to say, ‘Ariana, you cut your hair…' or ‘You wore a dress that didn't have pleats…' or ‘You removed the fabric covering from your head…so to hell with you'?”

Was that what kept Ariana so uptight about following the Ordnung—the thought of going to hell? That wasn't it. Couldn't be. She had moral objections and felt strongly about following her conscience.

Brandi cupped a bundle of Ariana's hair and showed her the ends. “You need a few inches off to shape it up since you won't be wearing a bun all the time. But more than that, you need to look yourself in the eye and say, ‘I'm not afraid to live, not afraid to step outside of what anyone thinks, including Amish people.' Okay?”

Brandi's words tilled fresh ground in Ariana's heart, and a tiny piece of the hardened earth gave way. But one question niggled at her: In obeying the Ordnung in every way, was integrity or fear directing her?

She stared at herself in the mirror as if maybe the anxious young woman looking back at her had an answer.

Brandi put her hands on Ariana's shoulders. “Refuse the fear.”

Was that what kept tripping her up—fear? She managed a nod. “Okay.”

Brandi smiled, kissed her head, and motioned to the hairdresser.

The girl returned and picked up a spray bottle of water. “Since it's long enough to sit on, I doubt you'll miss five inches.”

It's only hair. Be cooperative.
Ariana nodded. Despite Brandi's convincing talk, Ariana's heart raced, and she wished she could flee back to her home.

Instead, she remained in place, drained and emotional, while the girl cut off a few inches, blew her hair dry, and styled it in what she called a really long, messy bun. Ariana turned her head, and the stylist held up a mirror so she could see the back. Actually…it was sort of cute. The clothes weren't so bad either. But it felt wrong.

Everything felt wrong, and she was growing weary of it.

Once done at the salon, Brandi walked with her to the Apple Store. Ariana's clothing and prayer Kapp were in a bag, and it seemed like an abomination to walk through the glitzy mall while all signs of the real Ariana were hidden in a bag. Did God mind?

Nicholas was waiting outside. “You're late.” He checked his watch as if verifying his words.

Brandi nodded. “Yeah, I know. It took longer at the salon than I'd planned.”

“I got the phone already.” He held it up, pressing various icons.

Ariana noted the bright pink covering. At least he hadn't bought one adorned with fake jewels, like Brandi's phone. “Thank you.”

“Sure. My pleasure.” He didn't glance up from its screen. “I've set it up, entered Brandi's and my information so you can easily reach us. You're sure to need help learning to use some of its features, but that will have to wait. We have to leave if we're going to make it to our appointment at the DMV.” When he held out the phone to her, he seemed to notice her for the first time. “You look nice.” He glanced at Brandi.

She nodded, giving a slight shrug. “I think so too, but she's not feeling good about any of it.”

Nicholas shifted. “Then it's probably something we need to talk about, but right now we have to go.”

The man liked to talk about things, and sometimes it was helpful, but usually he explained how she needed to feel rather than listened to how she felt. Sometimes it seemed her Englisch parents only wanted to mold her into someone they could learn to like. Thus far, neither one was willing to consider going to church. Nicholas said he would listen about her faith after she read a book called
Religious Poison.
She read a bit a few nights ago, but its opening was horrible, saying that man made up God's existence and that the author would explain, through research and reason, why that was a fact. She had closed it and hid it in the closet before reading her Bible. But the words still haunted her.

Brandi waved at her and remained in place as Ariana hurried to keep up with Nicholas. He walked into the parking lot and pulled out his keys. “You excited about the next step?”

Excited
was the totally wrong word, but she had to keep moving toward Nicholas's goals, and she had one more hurdle to get over today—taking her driver's test. “You're sure they'll let me take the test?”

He opened his car door. “You worry a lot. You know that?”

She shrugged and got in on the passenger's side.

“You have an appointment, and it's as I said earlier this week.” He pressed the brake and pushed a button to start the car. “The laws for getting a license are different because you're not a teen.”

He backed out with ease. Despite the hours he'd spent teaching her to drive this past week, she always felt she was on the verge of having a wreck when she was behind the wheel.

He turned on his left blinker. “If you can pass the written and driving tests, and if you have car insurance, which you do, you can get a license.” He pulled onto the main road. “Oh, and you have to have ID to prove who you are, which I have right here.” He patted a leather portfolio.

It was ironic. A man she barely knew had all her true identification information, and yet with each passing day she was less sure who she really was.

“Will the driving test include toll booths?” She hated those. They were confusing, and the cost seemed extreme.

“No toll booths. You did great learning how to drive.” He merged into the far left lane. “I still can't believe it.”

“Learning to steer something that doesn't have a mind of its own and doesn't have wheels that only go straight was incredibly easy.”

“Interesting. I never thought about that.”

“The worst is when it's raining or snowing or the winds are howling, and the horse refuses to come to you.”

Nicholas laughed. “Gives new meaning to ‘catching a ride,' doesn't it?”

“Not to mention the idea of ‘can't catch a ride.' ”

They chuckled, and she pointed at the driver's manual.

“Oh yeah.” He nodded. “Study.”

She focused on the rules of the road while he drove. The number of laws seemed to be increasing by the minute, and when they arrived, she was shaking.

He turned off the car. “I'll go in with you to make sure you get in the right lines and fill out all the paperwork correctly. Then I'll wait for you out here.”

“Sure.” She took a deep breath. Her will was set. She would keep putting one foot in front of the other, and maybe at some point she would stop feeling as if she were about to shatter. He held the door for her, and she went inside.

The busyness of the DMV looked like organized confusion.

“Just relax. You simply go through the steps until it's done.”

Would it be that easy?

Two hours later Ariana walked out of the DMV with her driver's license. Part of her felt like a traitor. What was she doing with a license? On the other hand, she had something that was frowned on but allowed during one's
rumschpringe.
Very few Amish girls got one, but a lot of the guys did.

As polluted as she felt, she also had a few niggling moments of something she couldn't define. She felt…good about herself. Even so, the new things she'd gotten today weren't worth chasing after. But was there any harm in letting herself enjoy the victory?