Page 4 of Church Girl
“I know. Of course I know that.” I set the bottle on the other side of me and lean toward her. “But am I supposed to let not having traveled farther than Huntsville stop me from leaving? Keep me trapped here to live the life mapped out for me, the life I had no input in?”That I went along with. “Shouldn’t I at least try?”
The thought of trying and failing hunts me like a stalking beast. I can already taste the faint, metallic flavor of it in the back of my throat. But I can’t allow that to stop me, either. Shoot, whether it’s here or Chicago, I’ll be alone. I might as well be alone doing somethingIwant.
For once.
Sympathy flashes in Tamara’s eyes, and that burns through my veins like acid. I don’t want her pity. I need her help.
“Aaliyah...” she murmurs, and I catch the regret in her voice.
Desperation surges inside of me, and my body charges into fight-or-flight mode.
“No,” I sharply say, cutting off her gentle letdown. “You got out, Tamara. You know firsthand what it is to feel like you’re slowly suffocating under the heavy weight of expectation, of standards so high that trying to reach them is just a setup for failure. You know what freedom tastes like. Please,” I rasp, my anger and passion ebbing, replaced by a quiet sadness. “Help me to leave here. Help me to finallylive.”
Humiliation sears me as my desperation echoes in the room and inside my head. I can’t run from it, can’t hide. It’s all there, out in the open, and I feel so damn exposed. It’s uncomfortable, and I cringe away from it. Vulnerability isn’t an asset or an admirable quality. At best, it’s an emotionally out-of-control state. At worst...well, at worst, it’s a weapon willingly handed over to be abused.
Physically and emotionally.
I don’t know if Tamara will tell me to get a grip and compose myself, or view my confession as an opportunity to hold something over my head.
Yet, she’s the only person I’ve felt close to for a long time. And that includes my almost husband.
God, I sound so pathetic. Not that I’m going to let that stop me. It’s dramatic to claim this is a matter of life or death. But that’s how I feel. This emptiness and fear are so consuming that I’m seconds from being swallowed up by it. And then I will be nothing.
“I’ve been saving up money for three years,” I softly confess. “Even before I consciously made the decision to leave, I started saving for it. This is my chance, Tamara. I don’t think I’ll have another one. And I’m not talking about my father, I’m talking about me. I don’t know if I’ll have the courage to do this again.”
Tamara stares at me for a long while. So long my heart sinks toward my belly and disappointment embeds itself in my chest.
“Fine.” Tamara sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“What?” Shock propels the air from my lungs so the question emerges on a wheeze.
Sighing, my cousin lifts her head, and those light brown eyes narrow on me. “I know I’m bound to regret this but fine. You can come with me.”
Still not sure I’ve heard her correctly, I lean forward—as far as my corset and skirt will allow. “Are you serious? You’re...”
“Yeah, Aaliyah, I’m serious.” She shakes her head, and when she looks at me, her indecision and irritation are abundantly clear. Standing from the bed, she waves a hand. “Now get up. We need to get you out of this dress. And then we need to get on the road before they come knocking at my door.”
Shoving off the bed, I get to my feet and turn around, giving her my back. Immediately, her fingers go to the long row of delicate buttons that march down my spine.
“Tamara,” I whisper.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“Whatever. I’m not certain I’m doing the right thing, and I’m sure both of us are going to regret this.” Several beats of silence pass between us. “You’re welcome.”
I smile at the far wall, and moments later, when the wedding gown falls to the floor in a billowing heap, it’s as if I’ve shed dead skin. As if I’m standing in a brand-new, soft, untried body.
Words I’ve heard my father say a million times take on new meaning.
I’m born again.
Two
“I’on trust nobody that makes Mary Poppins look like Lizzy Borden.”
Von
