Cleanliness is next to...
Part Two:
Frozen on the couch, he was the tongue that licked the frozen pole. The only movement was that of the victim's tears.
“Bre, please,” chased me. There was one place I had to be, which wasn’t gratifying to him: the cult for 9:00 p.m.
During the twenty-minute drive from home to the cult, I did not cry. I drove numb, in an eerie silence, not listening to music or picking up my phone while my mind spun like a top as my blood reached 100 degrees.
I recall this mental paralysis beginning in grade school. Under pressure, my thoughts sped up as the background noise muted while my body froze. Do you remember ‘Mad Minutes?’ With a minute to complete eighty mathematical equations, forcefully, I would press my pencil onto the paper, scribble a line through the questions, and then erase it. I would go on to finish all eighty equations, achieving a 98% with time to spare.
Along with my hyper-fixation of my modesty, I now feared repercussions for the state of my house.
Sometimes, I long for an interruption or a personified earth to grumble and swallow me whole. This was one of those times, but the only interruptions were “Bre, please” texts. They turned my Blackberry into a flashlight. Relentless, he just “wanted to talk.” God, you fucking asshole, you couldn’t have opened the earth’s core for me?! What the fuck, dude.
Headlights approached the leader’s officer. Parked, Elder E exited his vehicle, waving at me to follow him inside. As I shook with hands dripping with sweat, I did a quick fit check and made sure, for the infinite time, that my skirt hem sat below my knees and my shirt collar was high enough to choke me. Ridiculous. I didn't know if my marriage was going to be okay, but what concerned me was my modesty on behalf of a grown-ass “man of leadership’s” inability to see a kneecap and collarbone as bones.
I made my way up the stairs and entered the office. Elder E and a very naive and terrified 24-year-old mother of 3 stood in the essence of one tiny lamp. With the braid of Elsa hanging over my left shoulder, I was unsure of what the next seconds held. He towered over me. Locking eyes with me, he asked, “How are you doing?” Then, he pulled me in for a long-held hug with his hand rubbing vertically on my back. I couldn’t say no, but other men don't hug other women in the cult. It is a sexual act. For reference, my ex-father-in-law didn't even hug me on my wedding day. In his words, “I can feel a woman’s top.” He eventually hugged me gingerly one Christmas, and it never happened again. Hugging women was okay if you had deep pockets, but it was not for those who struggled to keep gas in the tank. If I had only known what hypocrisy was and meant. Fuck you, naive.
The conversation we went on to have lasted a while, just him and I, in the entirety of the cult, in the glow of a small office lamp. In the presence of godly power, you do what you're persuaded to do. Under no circumstances do you want to be caught saying or doing the wrong thing; your earthly life, along with your eternal life, hangs in the balance.
I remember hearing the saying about my husband, “The way of a wayfaring stranger is a hard path.” In other words, “Bre, be hard on him. Rely on faith.” Just so we are clear, I hate faith. I hate prayer. Do not pray for me or tell me to rely on things I can not see. It is abusive.
Promising that they, the “men of leadership” and the members of the cult, wouldn't let me fall, he asked, “What do you want to do?”
The conversation went like this:
“I can't go back home; I must get out.”
Elder E- “Do you have anyone to call that you could stay with?”
With my parents kicked out and my relationship with Elder Eric on the rocks, my in-laws were the only family I had left to call.
Permitted to leave the office, I walked to the fellowship hall to give the mother-in-law a call.
“ Mom, (yes, I called, and he admitted it all. I can’t go home. Elder E and I are at the church discussing it. Can the kids and I come and stay with you and Dad?”
MIL- “You can come till Wednesday.”
Knowing the situation, three days was all they could open their doors for. Their daughter-in-law and their three grandkids needed safety, but you know what they say about ‘God’s Love’—it is callous.
Grateful for breadcrumbs, I ran back to relate the plan to Elder E. With his agreement to the arrangement, after following him to the gas station to fill up with gas, he followed me back to my home to give me the ability to pack a bag while my husband continued to play the victim card on the couch.
Elder E called Elder L for backup. Along with my hyper-fixation of my modesty, I now feared repercussions for the state of my house. It did not matter the circumstances. Dirty dishes were piled in both sinks, and laundry was poured out of the dryer. I guarantee the floors had not been mopped in about a month.
The Elders stood in the living room where my ex was as I gathered a bag of belongings. The ex and I did not share a single word as I escaped the front door, babies in tow, with the Elders close behind.
As we stood on the driveway, I profusely apologized to the Elders for the state of my home. Assuring me it was okay and not to worry, I led Elder E to the in-law's place.
Six weeks later, my phone rang. Elder E and Elder L called me into a three-hour meeting, wherein I was reprimanded harshly for, yes, you guessed it, the state of my home.