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She’s the one person from home I’m actually happy to hear from.
“Hey, girl. How’s the big bad city?” she asks. I can see her smiling, probably with a child on her hip.
She’s the only person who didn’t think I was crazy for going to Chicago to try my luck. And there’s a good reason why.
Growing up, Mel wasn’t quite the ‘church girl’ we were all brought up to be. Always a bit on the adventurous side, she was interested in boys from an early age. Unlike the rest of the girls in our parish, she didn’t bother to hide her interest. A lot of disdain was flung her way, and she was called all the ugly names they call a girl. But I always stuck by her, even when my parents didn’t want me to.
Guess that’s why she sticks by me now.
But there’s another reason, and I suspect it has to do with the fact that at the age of twenty-one, she already has three kids.
Yes. Three kids.
She got knocked up by local creep Jake Harlowe, in a situation where drugs and alcohol were involved, and which I’ve always suspected was not completely consensual. To make matters worse, in its infinite and ‘compassionate’ wisdom, the church pretty much made her marry him.
Pregnant with few or no job skills, what else could she do?
I was horrified, like I was witnessing the slow death of someone I loved.
Her mother practically dragged her down the aisle by the hair as she held her tears in, knowing that any life she’d hoped for was now out of her reach. Permanently.
I told her to run away, to do something, anything to avoid marrying him. But, for the first time in her life, she passively accepted everything happening around her, and went along with her parents’ plans for her, which were really the church’s plans.
Her fire died that day, and I think a little more dies with every day that passes. I hated how that happened to her, and now here she is, four years later with three babies, not to mention a gambler and philanderer of a husband.
The whole thing solidified my interest in getting out of our town, although I did so with more than a little guilt for leaving behind my friend.
“All is well here, Melanie, just about to dive into the books.”
She sighs. And I feel like shit for her.
“I’ll make it quick then, Luci. I’m organizing the youth dance at the church, and I would love if you came back for it.Everyonewants to see you.”
Everyone? Who the heck is everyone?
“Oh, I don’t know, Mel. I’m so busy with school and work.”
The wordworkmakes my heart speed up a bit. If she only knew.
Which she never will.
“Oh, Luci, c’mon. It will be so much fun. How can you not support the church that has done so much for you, and so much for me?”
What?
Please tell me she has not completely lost her mind or somehow come down with amnesia.
Does she not recall how she was essentially forced to marry someone she didn’t like?
It’s amazing how people can rewrite history. But maybe it’s just as well. Blocks the most painful memories.
But I hadn’t forgotten.
“I don’t know, Mel. I… I support the church in other ways. I sent them money to help with the broken plumbing.”
“Oh? You did? Gosh,” she laughs weakly.
Ugh. Why did I just say that? I don’t want more questions about my… life. Or finances, such as they are.
