Burned

  give me permission to ride along.

  Luckily, he had no clue

  that person was the man I had

  fallen desperately in love with.

  The night before we left,

  Aunt J and Kevin fixed a big

  dinner, and when I came downstairs,

  there were gifts on the table.

  First I opened Kevin’s, a book

  on horsemanship, so I could

  “practice up for next summer.”

  Aunt J handed me a small package.

  Inside was a cell phone. You can

  call me anytime. Don’t worry about

  minutes. I’ve got them covered.

  Face red, but brave in spite of it,

  Ethan offered an even smaller box.

  My hands shook as I opened it.

  Set in a gold promise ring, three

  small diamonds glittered. One

  for you, one for me, one for us,

  he said sweetly. I love you.

  Aunt J started to cry.

  “You said not to do that,” I scolded,

  eyes tearing up too.

  Kevin grinned. Women! You

  gotta love ’em. Now how

  about dinner? I like my steak rare.

  What about you?

  Our Last Night Together

  Defined bittersweet.

  It was beautiful,

  laden with stars

  and the serenade

  of crickets, barn

  owls, and bullfrogs,

  late summer voices.

  It was sorrowful,

  filled with frail

  promises that our

  bloom into family

  would not wither

  with time, distance.

  It was spectacular,

  a vision of love

  perfected, two

  humans joined in

  earthly lust and

  spiritual passion.

  It was the worst

  night of my life,

  because no matter

  how hard I tried

  to believe it would

  all work out in the end…

  The Old Pattyn Resurfaced

  To tell the new

  Pattyn she was

  crazy.

  Whoever directed

  her heavenly

  soul

  to be placed in this

  earthly body had

  suffering

  in mind. Just my

  luck, my

  angel

  mentor was tilted

  a bit to the

  sadistic

  side. But why

  punish an

  innocent,

  unless in the end

  everyone was

  guilty

  of unredeemable sin,

  programmed by some

  sibling,

  or so the Mormon

  Church claimed,

  of God above?

  I Thought I Knew “Sad”

  But saying good-bye to Aunt J

  was like stepping into quicksand,

  knowing it was there.

  Whatever happens, she said,

  I want you to know that you

  have given my life back to me.

  It was a gift I never believed

  possible, and I thank you,

  from the depths of my heart.

  But more importantly, you

  are a gift, to all who know

  you, whether or not they realize

  it. If they don’t, they are blind.

  You have a special place in this

  world. All you have to do is find it.

  Do not give up on yourself, on

  the truths you have realized.

  Do not give in to those who

  would crush your dreams like

  nutshells. And never turn

  away from forever love.

  Climbing into Ethan’s truck,

  driving away and back toward

  Carson City, was sorrow, defined.

  We Made the Long Drive

  Even longer, stopping

  several times along the way

  to stretch our legs, enjoy

  the scenery and each other.

  At lunchtime, we pulled

  off into a stand of trees.

  Ethan reached down under

  the seat and extracted

  a sizeable cardboard box.

  You hide this, he said, somewhere

  your dad will never look. This

  is your trump card.

  Inside the box was a pistol—

  a 10mm semiautomatic.

  It’s accurate as hell. But

  you need to practice now,

  and promise me you’ll stay sharp.

  He spent the next half hour

  helping me master control

  of the FBI’s favorite handgun.

  I wasn’t sure where I could

  hide it, but I was damn well

  going to find a place. Armed

  with a gun like that, I felt safe,

  at least as safe as I was likely

  to feel under my father’s roof.

  About Fifteen Minutes

  Away from home, we

  stopped for a private

  good-bye.

  And I tasted in our last

  barrage of delectable

  kisses

  a growing sense of dread.

  And I felt in our final

  embraces

  a strong premonition

  not to let him go.

  Promises

  to stay in touch via cell

  phone helped a little.

  Vows

  to visit when he could

  helped not at all.

  Tears

  puddled, spilled, soaked

  Ethan’s shirt like

  a salty stream,

  fed by a downpour of despair,

  roiling into a river

  of mourning.

  He Dropped Me Off

  Early evening, just past

  suppertime. Inside, we could

  hear the après-dinner commotion,

  and it almost felt like a welcome home.

  Which was good, because I got no real

  welcome home, other than the girls squealing

  hello; Mom glancing up from the TV to say hi;

  and Dad and Johnnie, singing together out back.

  I was glad Dad didn’t see

  Ethan. But Mom and the girls

  did when he carried my bags to

  the door. Mom thought to ask who

  he was and I gave a generic answer,

  which she accepted without comment.

  Jackie, of course, knew better. She waited

  for the scoop until later that night. Whisper time.

  Meanwhile, I walked

  through the door with my

  backpack full of books and two

  suitcases, one filled with homemade

  clothes. The other carried a new cell

  and a new gun, tucked well inside a new

  set of clothes and beneath a new quilt, which

  Aunt J sent with me. No longer the new Pattyn.

  I knew that as soon

  as Dad stumbled into

  the kitchen. Well, look

  who’s home. Get me a bowl

  of ice cream. With that, he let

  me know from the get-go that life in

  the Von Stratten house hadn’t changed

  one bit. And if I somehow thought I had,

  well, I was most definitely mistaken.

  I Got Dad His Ice Cream

  Without comment, mostly

  because I didn’t want to take

  a chance on a boxing match.

  Maybe it was the L-tryptophan,

  or maybe it was just Johnnie,

  but Dad fell asleep early.

  Mom stood and made her way

  to bed.
She had definitely gained

  a lot more than an eight-pound baby.

  It didn’t seem the girls

  had grown so much. Not

  as much as I had, anyway.

  They were a lot easier to put

  to bed, though. Maybe they didn’t

  want to chance Dad’s wrath either.

  Jackie and I waited until

  the house was dead asleep

  before filling each other in.

  By then, I was so grateful

  for the silence that I really

  didn’t want to talk. But I did.

  We Both Held Back a Little

  I talked about riding

  horses, herding cattle,

  driving pickups.

  She talked about camp—

  swimming, arts and crafts,

  LDS propaganda.

  I told her I didn’t go

  to one sacrament

  meeting all summer.

  She told me they went

  every week, despite Mom’s

  morning sickness.

  I talked about Aunt J,

  confessed her sordid

  secrets about our father.

  Which opened the door

  to Jackie’s own confession

  about Dad’s cruelty.

  I listened to her outline

  his face slaps, hair yanks,

  and punches that bruised.

  She didn’t tell me then

  the worst of it—a belt beating

  that made the welts bleed.

  I admitted almost everything

  about Ethan, omitting only

  the part about making love.

  Jackie looked at my locket,

  my promise ring, and though she

  must have suspected the rest of it…

  She Respected That Secret

  Never even asked the question

  that had to have been on her mind.

  Just like I respected her unfinished

  tale, though I knew there was more.

  Some confidences require the right

  moment, even between favorite sisters.

  We talked late into the night

  and it almost felt good being home,

  sharing a bed with someone I cared

  about, and who cared about me,

  someone I could gush to about Ethan,

  someone eager to hear

  that forever love wasn’t just

  an invention of romance authors

  and fairy tales, but something vital

  and viable. Something to trust in

  and hold on to when the screaming

  started and the blows fell.

  For Everyone Else

  It was just like I’d never left,

  just like there had never

  been another Pattyn but the one

  they’d chased away.

  The next morning, we ate

  breakfast, went to sacrament

  meeting. No one at church

  acted like I’d even been gone.

  Bishop Crandall did offer

  an inquisitive stare, trying to assess

  the success—or failure—of my

  summer punishment.

  I tried not to look smug, to avoid

  future problems, but it wasn’t

  easy, especially half listening

  to bogus testimonies.

  Why hadn’t I noticed it before—

  how everyone said virtually

  the same thing and no one seemed blown

  away by the meaning of their words?

  I mean, if God actually tapped me

  on the shoulder and whispered

  truths into my ear, I’d definitely

  be impressed! And I’d show it.

  And Then School Started

  My senior year. I should have been excited, but it just seemed lame. Trigonometry. Astronomy. Government. I needed them to graduate, but after that, what for? I took creative writing for English and for my elective, Intro to Aviation, just in case I ever needed to fly an airplane. (Right after I bought my first Ferrari!) I did need a PE credit too. Lucky me, they counted the shooting club. But all the rest—dances, pep rallies, football games—meant nothing. And, with the exception of Jackie, not one of my schoolmates meant a damn thing either. I wasn’t one of them, not that I’d ever really felt like I was. But now I felt miles removed. Miles above. And I liked it up there.

  For One Thing

  Up there, it was easy to look

  down on Derek and Carmen.

  In fact, it wasn’t hard to look

  down on Justin and Tiffany.

  As for Becca and Emily and

  the rest of my seminary crowd,

  well, they’d always been

  relatively worthless, anyway.

  I did buddy up with Trevor,

  a total germ whom I’d known

  since fifth grade, completely

  because he had a car—a beater,

  but who cared? At least I had

  a ride that wasn’t Mom or Dad.

  I could tell that Trevor liked

  me, and I played that to the max.

  He was a good Mormon boy,

  meaning goofy, churchgoing,

  and soon in the market

  for a good Mormon wife.

  He was just the kind of guy

  my parents would approve of.

  I Tried to Talk to Ethan

  Every day, usually at lunch.

  Just hearing his voice

  made everything all right.

  His classes were hard,

  he said, but not nearly as hard

  as not having me close.

  For me, forever love

  was only strengthened

  by distance. The weird thing

  was, only months before,

  I had thought this kind of love

  was something to veer

  wide around. But I

  wasn’t afraid anymore.

  Ethan was the first thing

  on my mind every morning.

  He was the last thing

  I thought of, drifting off.

  I couldn’t wait to see him,

  fall into his kisses,

  fold into his body.

  Every atom

  of me missed him.

  The First Couple of Weeks

  Things weren’t so bad.

  At school, I tried to project the new Pattyn.

  Attractive. Desirable.

  That did come in handy

  the first time I turned a corner and ran into

  Carmen and Derek.

  I flashed a cool smile,

  put my nose in the air, and strode right by.

  Here’s the good part.

  As I wiggled off in new

  form-fitting jeans, I heard Carmen hiss,

  Are you checking her out?

  I only wished they knew

  where the self-confidence had come from,

  who had given me my smile.

  Wouldn’t Carmen take

  a second look at Derek? Wouldn’t Tiffany turn

  chartreuse with jealousy?

  I bet even Ms. Rose

  would gawk and run home to her spicy novels.

  And Ethan belonged to me.

  At Home

  I reverted to the old Pattyn,

  the one unlikely to draw much

  attention to herself. Although

  Mom was driving me crazy.

  (Pattyn, please go check on

  the girls. Pattyn, would you vacuum?

  Pattyn, start the veggies—

  like she was eating them!)

  I tried to stay patient with

  the girls. But for three of us,

  hormones were an issue.

  The others bickered constantly.

  (I had that first. “Did not.”

  You give it back. “I won’t.”

  I’ll tell Mom and she’ll tell Dad—
>
  that last one often worked.)

  Dad was getting ready to go

  hunting. Lucky him, he got

  a deer tag. Tell the truth, he was

  as relaxed as I’d ever seen him.

  (Gonna fill up that freezer

  with venison, long as I can get

  far enough up in those hills—

  meaning pray we don’t get early snow.)

  Privately, I thought venison

  was secondary. He missed

  killing, and now he’d have

  a chance to scratch that itch.

  But Then Things Got Tough at Work

  A big gathering of Yucca Mountain protesters

  was expected at the capitol the following

  week, when Department of Energy

  representatives met with the governor.

  That Friday evening Dad hit Johnnie

  early, trying to dull the edge. Goddamn

  protesters. Reminds me of the seventies.

  Who do those shitheads think they are?

  I can’t believe I said a word, dared

  to express an opinion. “It’s called

  free speech, Dad. It’s guaranteed

  in the Constitution, you know.”

  Dinner table babble fizzled as Dad

  put down his fork. No one has a right

  to question the government, missy.

  Especially not those liberal loudmouths.