The Unraveling of Mercy Louis (20 page)

“You know what they say.” She smooths some stray hairs back into place. “The higher the hair, the closer to God.” She grins.

“You're an idiot,” I say. “You know that, right?”

“Believe me, I know it,” she says. “I lost the plot there for a little while.” Unconsciously, she brushes a hand across her collarbone, and I notice a crosshatching of welty pink scars peeking above the bodice of her dress, covered in cake makeup.

I wrap my arms around her shoulders and bury my face in her neck. When I look up, she has tears in her eyes. “I missed you, you fool,” I say.

“I'm a stubborn bitch,” she says. “Don't know how I thought I could live without you.”

“You should have called,” I say.

“Mers, it was . . . It got real bad.” She dabs at her eyes, trying not to smudge the mascara. “I was so upset after dad announced the ball, I raged for weeks.” She shakes her head. “Last week I hit bottom. Got wasted and took one of Dad's guns out of the safe.” She pauses. “It was so bad I actually prayed. I started thinking maybe this ball wasn't such a stupid idea after all.”

The door creaks and footsteps sound in the hall. BobbyAnn Baker, one of the officers of the Purity Coalition, peeks around the bank of bathroom stalls. “You almost ready?” she asks, smiling at Annie.

Annie glances at me and nods. “Just another minute.”

“So long as it's not much more than that,” BobbyAnn cautions. “You got one eager daddy out there, waiting for his little girl's promise.” She beams, then disappears back down the hallway.

Annie rolls her eyes, a strangely comforting throwback to her old self. “Like this is anything more than leverage for Dad,” she says.

“Your ma here?” I ask.

“No. Too much commotion for her nerves.”

I try to find words of encouragement, but I don't have the energy for lies today. Annie takes my hands in hers.
Now is when I will tell her everything,
I think. Already, my heart feels lighter. But then she continues.

“I'm not going through all this for him. It's just, after this summer, I'm resolved to be good. I have to be good. Or at least better. But Mercy,” she says, her eyes pleading. “I'm going to need you more than ever. To keep me on track. You'll be, like, my sponsor.”

“Okay,” I say.

“You look freaked out,” she says. “It won't be hard. Just keep being your perfect self. I will be your disciple.”

“Wow, Annie,” I say, feeling woozy. “This is . . .”

Just like that, Travis's name disappears from my mouth. After the years I've spent hoping Annie would embrace the Lord and be saved, I can't sully the moment with talk of my sins.

“Come on, I expected at least a smile.” She stands up, fluffs the full skirt of the gown. She looks as beautiful and virtuous as a Disney princess. I feel like I'm going to hurl.

“What about Lennox?” I ask.

“I broke it off,” she says. “Honest to God, I think the boy was relieved. I mean, he loves me, but I think I scare him a little.”

“I'm happy for you,” I say. “Really.”

“I'm going to get my act together. This whole stupid ball is my promise to
you,
Mercy. That I'm going to be the friend you deserve. This year I'm going to be
good
.” She hugs me, but I can barely manage to squeeze her back.
I'm not the person you think I am,
I want to say. “I'm so sorry about this summer,” she says. Then, smiling: “How did you survive two and a half months without me?”

I feel awful, like I've betrayed her by being so happy with Travis while she was slicing up her skin in misery. “You better get out there,” I say, giving her a peck on the cheek. Holding hands, we walk into the gym. When people see Annie, they stand up and clap. I take a seat at Maw Maw's table while Annie continues to the flower-banked platform at the front of the room, where Beau waits with Pastor Parris. The harpist has stopped playing for the vows, which have been typed up and placed on the tables so people can read along as Annie recites them.

“Welcome, everyone,” Pastor Parris says. “We are gathered together today for a truly special occasion: to celebrate a young woman's commitment to lead a chaste life until she finds the man with whom Christ intends to yoke her.” He clears his throat. “But this ceremony is about more than celebration. Let it also serve as a reminder that this commitment to chastity is a remarkable one, and that it is not shared by all the young women of our town. In the face of this summer's tragedy on LeBlanc Avenue, it's important to take the time to celebrate this commitment and to remember the dangers that exist outside of the chaste life.”

I reach under the petticoat to drag my nails along my itchy legs, but that brings no relief. In these layers of tulle and satin, I feel like I might catch fire. He continues: “I would like to use this occasion to remind all of us how easy it is to be tainted by those around us who insist on a life of sin. I urge you to be on your guard with your neighbors. In John 6:70, Christ says, ‘Have I not chosen you, the twelve, yet one of you is the devil!' It is His prophesy of Judas, and oh, it is a dreadful thing to be a devil and to sit down at the Lord's table, yet it happens every day. Somewhere the mother of that child is sitting down to dinner. Is she at your table? I urge you to take stock of your household. Christ knows our devils, though we may not. Pray for His guidance in identifying evildoers, and if you cannot help them, cast them from your lives and be warned: we are none so strong that we can afford to knowingly comingle with those who would see us brought low.”

Staring at the hem of my dress, dirty from dragging on the ground, I remember Charmaine's ghostly face in the mirror when I was first struck by the twitching. I try to pray but can't form the words. Pastor Parris begins the vows.

       
PASTOR PARRIS
: Hear, oh Lord, in this sacred hour, on this holy ground, our commitment to You and each other. Lord be glorified as Anne Putnam commits. Believing that true love waits—

       
ANNIE
: Believing that true love waits—

       
PASTOR PARRIS
: I make a commitment to God, myself, my family.

       
ANNIE
: I make a commitment to God, myself, my family.

       
PASTOR PARRIS
: To my friends, my future mate, and my future children to a lifetime of purity.

       
ANNIE
: To my friends, my future mate, and my future children to a lifetime of purity.

       
PASTOR PARRIS
: Including sexual abstinence from this day until the day I enter a biblical marriage relationship.

       
ANNIE
: Including sexual abstinence from this day until the day I enter a biblical marriage relationship.

       
PASTOR PARRIS
: May this ring be a reminder of your commitment to purity.

       
He waits as Beau slides the ring onto Annie's finger, then continues.

       
PASTOR PARRIS
: It was given to you by someone who loves you and supports you in this commitment. Wear it with the knowledge that your purity is for God's glory. On your wedding night, you are to give this ring to your spouse as a celebration of promises given and promises kept. May it also be a symbol of your continued sexual purity and the provision found in the gift of your spouse.

Beau leans in to embrace Annie, who lets herself be held stiffly for a few seconds before breaking away. When Annie turns toward us to accept our applause, I notice the earlier serenity is gone from her face, replaced by a dazed expression, her blue eyes large and searching, her eyebrows raised as if in amazement at what she's done. My arm bumps once, twice against the bottom of the table, tinkling the ice in the glasses. Thankfully, all eyes are on Annie.

“Praise be to God,” Maw Maw says.

Usually, I find comfort in church and ceremony—the familiar words spoken or sung, the feeling that God hovers somewhere nearby as we call His name. Today, though, I hear only
promises given and promises kept
and think,
How worthless and common a thing is a promise broken
. The world needs no ceremonies to commemorate them, for they are the rule and not the exception. When a server places a plate of food in front of me, I push it away; the sight of the chicken-fried steak swimming in gravy makes my stomach lurch.

“Mercy,” someone says. I look up to see Coach Martin.

“Coach,” I say, standing.

“No, no,” she says. “Sit. Eat.”

I sit but leave the food untouched. She eyes my plate, and I know what she's thinking. “I've pretty much been sticking to the team menu,” I lie, thinking of all the junk food I've eaten with Travis, the burgers and shakes and funnel cakes, his mom's bread pudding and carrot cake.

She waves my words away. “By this point, I should be able to trust you to know what's good for yourself. It's okay to have a little grease in the summertime. Should burn off by the first practice.” Her left eye winks almost imperceptibly. “Speaking of summertime,” she goes on, taking a seat in a chair next to mine, “yours been good? Been eating, sleeping, and dreaming ball?”

“Absolutely,” I say. Another lie. I've been eating, sleeping, and dreaming Travis.

“It takes total commitment, Mercy,” she says. “But you know that. You know firsthand what happens when we let ourselves lose focus.”

“Yes ma'am,” I say.

Her face is stern; she pats my hand, which is closed tight around my dinner knife. “I know how bad you want it, Mers,” she says. “I trust you. You're my girl, and I'll do anything for you, understand? This year we're going to make it happen.” Her eyes are determined, her brows kinked. She stands. “I'll see you in school next week.” As she turns to go, she thumps me on the back, and the punch sloshes in my stomach. I exhale and push my plate back. The cream gravy has congealed on the cold meat. Around me, people busy themselves eating.
None of you care a flip about Annie,
I think. During dessert, Beau announces his candidacy for mayor.

“You just have to take one look at that beautiful girl of mine, wearing that white dress and that ring which signifies her covenant with God, to truly understand what this town is capable of. Whether it's on the basketball court or at these celebrations, our girls represent what we stand for. I promise you, we're going to catch the woman who put a stain on this town's reputation. From this point forward, only good things for Port Sabine!”

When he's done, I make for the door fast, waiting for Maw Maw in the car. I wonder how much Beau paid someone to come up with that slogan. I pull at the neckline of my dress, which seems to have shrunk a size in the last two hours. People stream out of the gym, but I pitch the seat all the way back and lie down so they can't see me through the windows. I'm so tired—tired of trying to be twice as good as other girls, tired of running from my fate. Even when I was perfect, I didn't gain anything by it—no state trophy, not a single person who really loved me. Even Annie's love is tainted by her huge need for me.

There's only one person who truly sees who I am and gives me the love I need. Travis. Just thinking about him melts me farther into the hot vinyl of the passenger seat.

THAT NIGHT, AFTER
Maw Maw is asleep, I sneak out to Travis, jimmying the back window and dropping to the soft ground below. At the dock behind the house, we launch my skiff, paddling until we're far enough up the bayou to start the motor without waking Maw Maw. We fix a strobe to the bow and cruise through the inky water, cutting around stumps and thick patches of water hyacinths and lilies, the blooms closed up tight, awaiting the morning sun. Overhead, lacy pines and live oaks hung with ball moss block out the fingernail moon.

As we glide along, the strobe catches the eyes of a Seth peering out from the lily pads, the ancient curve of its skull just visible above the waterline. I shiver and scoot closer to Travis on the bench. A fisherman landed a twelve-footer in Bull Bayou last summer, shot it, and pulled it into his boat, but as he went to tag it, the gator knocked the man into the water, flipped the boat, and made its escape. Which means the creature still skulks somewhere in these waters.

“You know we've got more variety and quantity of poisonous snakes here than in any other place in the U.S.?” Travis whispers. “We got copperheads, coral snakes, water moccasins, three different kind of rattlesnake.”

“Shush now,” I say. “Tell me something good.”

He moves his hand to my thigh, his fingers tracing an invisible pattern on my bare skin. “I love you,” he says.