Page 45 of Life, Love, and Other Messes

Catherine flipped pages in my chart. I promise was not a response she knew she could trust. “How are things going with your parents’ anniversary dinner?”

I might have groaned out loud. We’d talked a little bit about it, how I hated the very idea of trying to throw a party that would be up to my mother’s standards. Catherine had reminded me that half of this was on Kevin, too, and asked me if I thought he was stressing the same way I was. I had almost told her to shut up, but I reminded her that Missy was doing most of the work and she loved things like this.

“I’m putting together a slideshow so I don’t have to give some big stupid speech.”

“Good. That’s a great compromise. I’m proud of you.”

It had been Kevin’s idea. “I just want to lie low.”

“Hmm. Will she have enough attention from the guests?”

“Jesus, I must have sent out two hundred invitations.”

Catherine’s eyebrows jumped. “Oh. Oh my.”

I laughed derisively. “Pretty much the whole town is invited. Everyone from my dad’s job, everyone from their school days, everyone from the neighborhood, everyone from church.”

Catherine’s eyebrow cocked. “Everyone from church?”

I looked out the window. “Yes.”

“Everyone?”

I cleared my throat. “Yes, he’s going to be there.”

“You invited him after all.”

“I had to. He’s the pastor’s son. Mom wanted his whole family.”

“And you’re sure he’s coming? Like you got an RSVP from him directly?”

“I got an RSVP for five from Pastor Hardeman’s wife. The two of them, their daughter, her husband, and him.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“Not really, but I don’t have a choice.”

“I suggest you keep your distance.”

I nodded. “No problem. There will be one hundred fucking people there.”

Catherine smiled tightly. “I’m sorry. You’re going to be okay, though. You know that.”

“Or I’m going to do something supremely stupid.”

“No, you’re not. You’re going to be okay.”

I wasn’t so sure about that one, but it wasn’t the first time I’d smiled nicely at my therapist, taken care of my copay, and gone on my merry way.

I’d never felt comfortable in my family’s church, partially because it was quite conservative, but mostly because of Jackson Hardeman. If we were both just kids who went to the church, that wouldn’t have been a big deal, but since his father was the pastor and my mother worked there, it was an epic deal. When I was too young to stay at home alone, Mom brought me to the church with her, and Jackson tended to wander over from the parsonage across the field looking for trouble.

He was three years older than me and there was no good reason he should have given me the time of day, but he singled me out from the beginning. When we were both in the little kids’ Sunday school class, he ran to sit next to me during circle time, making sure nobody else got his spot, sliding in so hard that the rug beneath us moved and he always kicked my leg. For the entire time Miss Vicks read bible stories to us, he poked and prodded me, trying to get me to make noise and get in trouble. He untied my shoes. He walked his fingers along my shoulder to make me think there was a bug. Anything to drive me crazy. Nobody ever called him out for it because he was Pastor Hardeman’s son.

Any time he found me outside he would chase me with sticks, whipping my calves and ankles until they bled. When I finally told my brother what was going on, he punched Jackson in the nose. It was one of the best moments of my life, but Kevin was lectured by Pastor Hardeman for fighting and Mom grounded him for two weeks.

As we grew older, we were no longer in Sunday school class together, but we were both in youth choir and he took that time to continue his harassment. He stood behind me on the risers, and when I turned around one day he tweaked my nipple and said, “Nice titties.” Another day, he spit in my hair. Kevin wasn’t around and the other kids were so scared of Jackson they pretended he was the coolest thing ever. They didn’t want to become targets.

I took to sitting in the church office next to my mother’s desk as often as I could, doing homework or reading while she worked. I could tell that annoyed her, and she asked me constantly if I wouldn’t like to sit in one of the classrooms or go outside and play. I did not, so she sighed regularly and stepped over me on her way to the copier and filing cabinets. It helped some, but Jackson still found ways to get to me. Awful ways.