Stolen Moments

We almost never have a moment to ourselves. If I’m not cleaning, I’m folding, if not that, I’m cooking, if not that I’m helping one of the older women with their cooking, cleaning, and folding. Free time around here isn’t something you advertise you have. When I realized I had finished all my chores a bit earlier than expected, I trekked down to the river and waded in, ankle deep, to look for tadpoles. The water is cold- almost icy. It’s only April so it hasn’t had the chance to warm in the late Spring and Summer sun. It’s refreshing to me since I’ve been up and working since before the sun rose. The muck of the riverbed squishes between my toes and the water weeds and mud explodes like fireworks as I walk about. Now that I’m cool, I let myself become still and the dirt around my feet starts to settle. I’m looking at my feet and moving so slowly so I don’t disturb the tadpoles before I mean to, when a rustling behind me makes me turn.

“I knew I’d find you down here”, she says smiling. I blush, because I’m not expecting to see the girl, although it’s hard to avoid people here. Her hair is in a long dark braid down the left side of her shoulder, and she’s woven in a bit of yarn. The red is striking against her dark hair, and the hairs around the edge of her hairline are curled and sticking up from the humidity, creating a crown. She is beautiful and it catches me off guard, like always. I smile back, “Just looking for tadpoles.” She grins, “Well, Mama May sent me to find you, so I’d guess we have about 10 minutes before she comes looking for you herself, and then we’re both in trouble.” She comes to the edge of the river to offer me a hand up the bank, and hands me a ratty old towel for my feet. When I sit down and reach for the towel, she shrugs me off and motions for me to give her my feet. I giggle and prop my feet on her lap as she wipes the water from them. She hands me my socks and well-worn sneakers and I put both on and stand up next to her. She wraps her fingers around mine and I open my mouth to protest but my mouth is suddenly against hers and we’re kissing. I freeze, nervous, but then I slowly lean into the kiss, and it transforms from sweet to hard and frantic. It’s a frenzy of fingers, giggles, teeth, and hair, before we get ahold of ourselves and step back. We aren’t strangers to these stolen moments, which means that they tend to escalate quickly, as we rush to make the most of them. “I think we have about 4 minutes until Mama May is closing in,” I say and the other girl, named Claudia, giggles and we both walk up the hill toward home.

As we walk toward May, I smell the lilac trees lining the process. The only thing pulling me from my own thoughts is when May comes into view and she is furious- she’s standing outside of our bungalow and yelling, while mixing a bowl of some sort of batter at a breakneck speed. “Girls, I don’t’ understand why it’s SO flipping hard to understand that if you have some time to rest, it means you have time to be in service to someone else.” Hearing May replace curse words with her neutered versions was something me and Claudia love to mock behind her back. Any word that started with an “f” could be considered. Flurries, flocks, foundations, etc. Our favorite game was finding a new word that could work. “May, I’m sorry. I was down by the river and Claudia came and got me. I wanted to see if there were any smooth rocks for Jeremy.” Jeremy was May’s toddler and her favorite- this was no question, and it was reinforced by the instant softening of her demeanor when she heard his name. “Well…. alright. Claudia, get in here and help finish these rolls, and Sara you head to the little ones and give Jeremy his gift. Let me know if he doesn’t thank you.” I’m thankful that I had come across 2 smooth quartz stones in the river and I feel them inside my apron- cold and damp from the river still. I smile at May, wave to Claudia who sarcastically waves back, and I walk toward the young mothers’ cabin.

The young mothers take turns with the youngest children. Today was Tuesday so Trinity would be the mother in charge while the others were out doing chores for the day, usually on the farm. Trinity was only 16, but already had 2 children- 1 was 3 and one was 2 months. She had been chosen for marriage when she was 12, but because of how young she was, her husband had been sworn to keep her pure until she was 13- the age for adulthood here. Her first child hadn’t reached full term, and she mourned that loss for months before she had a private meeting with the prophet. Within the next month she was pregnant again and bedridden for most of the pregnancy. Bed ridden always sounded great to me- no chores. But Trinity wasn’t allowed to leave the house except for Thursday worship. She always looked so sad there, but her husband was always holding her close and had a protective and proud hand on her growing belly, so it couldn’t be that bad. I’d give anything to want what Trinity has. I wanted to want a husband, children, to serve the prophet and to also serve the Lord. But I just couldn’t force myself to giggle at the boys the way the other girls did. Claudia and I spent all our time giggling with each other. I was still only 14, and marriage was usually reserved for girls when they turned 16, so I still had a little under 2 years to find a boy that sparked my interest. I wasn’t hopeful- I knew what I was and what I wasn’t. The feeling that comes from wanting to kiss someone had only ever happened with Claudia. Trinity kissed me once when she was between babies. We had kissed for a while in the barn down by the end of the driveway, and then she had stepped back touched her lips and smiled. She said, “thanks” and she left the barn. She didn’t have to make me promise not to tell her husband or the others- I knew what was at stake if someone found out. There was absolutely no tolerance for unfaithfuls. But that only mattered if you were found out.

I walked into the young mothers’ bungalow and was greeted by at least 20 children, age 6 and younger. Jeremy toddled over to me, and I bent down to scoop him up and then reached in my apron and pulled out the two quartz stones. I kiss his cheek and put him back down and Trinity smiled, her newest baby on her hip, “Do I get a gift, or no?” “Not today, Trin. Mama May is on the warpath and I’m here just to drop off Jeremy’s gift before I head on back to her to help with dinner.” Trinity smiled, “You know, the sooner you have a baby, the sooner we can get you in the rotation for babysitting, so you don’t have to be on meal and laundry duty EVERY day.” I smiled and shrugged, “Food and folding doesn’t bother me.” “Thank you, Miss Sara,” Jeremy is pulling at my skirt and smiling. I kneel to his level and pull him in close and hug him. “Of course, little love.” I wave my fingers at Trinity who waves back, and I step back out into the warm Spring day.

The way back to May’s passes by the archives, so I pop in there to ask the brothers if they need any bread or butter for lunch. Brother Tim and Brother Levi are both older than anyone I’ve ever met and are responsible for ensuring that our records are kept up in case of the apocalypse which has been predicted by the prophets for years. They haven’t gotten it right so far, but the brothers stay vigilant. Brother Tim is Claudia’s great uncle. She and I probably feel more comfortable around the archivists because of this- many people find their work to be intimidating because of its proximity to the prophet, but the prophet has never visited while we’ve been in the building. Today, they playfully shoo me away, both gruff and grinning, and let me know they don’t need anything right now but would accept dessert later, if I didn’t mind. I exit the archives and head back to May’s.

May’s full face is red with sweat when I walk back into the bungalow. May is shouting precise instructions at Claudia who is covered in flour, and wincing every time that May punches another syllable. “Baking is a science, Claudia, not like the art that cooking is. You MUST nail the details-every single one!” May bellows, managing to sound frustrated AND giddy. I yell “May! The Brothers asked for me to go get and fold their laundry and I need help- can I steal Claudia back?” May throws her hands up, but quickly smiles, wipes her brow, and says, “Of course. Whatever the brothers will,” in a demurer tone. It’s alarming. But I understand- after all, the primary tenet of our entire flock is “Fairness to all, but the brothers will is priority,” which is effectively saying that the men here, particularly the elders, are looked at as the compass AND the navigators to our whole way of life. I had been fully bought into their entire belief system- it was my entire way of life- until very recently.

Claudia had been asked to join the prophet on an excursion into town, which usually indicates that he’s interested in courting you. I was devastated when one of the couriers delivered the “invitation”. But it wasn’t an invitation- you would only say no if you wanted to jeopardize your happiness. The prophet oversaw everything. Once, he had requested one of the children to attend an excursion- she was 11. Her mother had not simply refused, she had slapped the courier across the face. The bruises on her face and collar bone were all that were visible the next day, but they had somehow already turned a deep purple. During Thursday worship she was called to the front to confess her sins, where the prophet touched her shoulder and stated “I forgive you my child, but we are a community, and the community won’t forget your disgrace and betrayal to our doctrine. It is not safe for you to remain.” She had looked up in disbelief, and we all watched as a brother stood from his seat, walked over to her, and punched her on the side of the head. I had screamed and my mother put her hand over my mouth and whispered, frantic, “Hush, child!” I couldn’t breathe. The woman slumped to the floor and the brother carried her out of the building. The community knew to mitigate their children’s reactions and mask their own, but if the walls in the room could have spoken, they would have been screaming. The prophet held up his hand to call for order and motioned the woman’s husband to the front. “This is Brother Saul. We spoke last evening, and he shared with me the concerns he had for our community if his heathen wife remained. He is a hero. We shall thank him,” which prompted the muscle memory of the community to respond, “Thank you, Brother Saul!” emphatically, as we’ve done so often in service before. “Now, come here my child,” the prophet beckoned, outstretching his hand in front of him. The child who had been requested by the prophet for the excursion came forward, but clung to her father, the newly appointed “Brother Saul”. “During our conversation, it became evident that his daughter, Lily, is nothing like her mother but instead a beacon of light, eager to thrive within this community. Brother Saul shared his joy about the invitation that had been issued, but also shared that he hoped it would lead to a future betrothal, and I agreed. A miracle occurred last night, my dear flock. God spoke to me and said that beginning a spiritual marriage with Lily would prepare her for the greatness she is destined to hold in this community. Thus, my dear family, today will be a celebration- a wedding! Between me and Lily.” Lily, of course, would not be expected to engage in any physical expectations of marriage until she was 13 and they had a second ceremony for the physical marriage. She would move into the Big House with the prophet and his other wives, acting as their helper until full marriage was achieved.

That day was horrible. The day I watched the prophet- my version of an earthly GOD- brutalize a woman and then take her daughter as his bride- was nothing short of a horror film. But, at the time, I was so committed to my faith which was reinforced by everything around me, I didn’t recognize what was happening. I was scared, but I thought that was beautiful because it meant that I was experiencing a divine feeling achieved through faith, even when it felt the hardest. But, when Claudia received the offer, she used the opportunity to go into town to purchase a smartphone from the gas station. Claudia had been saving money for years- we never really needed it, but occasionally we would receive some as a reward or as a gift, to use for the rare trip into town. She had managed to save enough to get the phone and when she brought it back, we set it up and had access to the internet, something neither of us had ever interacted with. It was there that she and I started learning. We would inhale academic articles, magazines, etc. We also LOVED reality television. We’d find moments in our day to run away from our world with each other and visit others. My mind was filled with questions, with regrets, as it expanded and welcomed in a wealth of knowledge that those around me didn’t have. It wasn’t a reckoning, but it did lead to questioning, and my questioning led me to finding the gaping holes in our belief system and way of life, but there was nothing I could do about it and no one I could speak to about it, except Claudia. We had been holding the phone and reading a short story together when we first kissed. I had been leaning on my arm, and she on hers, angled toward each other. The sound of the brook babbled next to us, and her finger touched the side of my palm. My heart, to my surprise, lost its rhythm. I turned my head toward hers, my brow furrowed in confusion, and she was already looking at me. Her eyes drilled into my stomach through mine, and I felt the phone drop from her other hand and fall to the ground between us but we didn’t turn away. She leaned in toward me and then hesitated, her eyebrow raising with the question, “Is this, okay?” I leaned forward to indicate my consent, and our lips timidly touched for the first time, and time stood still. I surprised myself when I took the kiss deeper, opening my mouth, but Claudia reciprocated and soon we were intertwined. Her hand was in my hair, and mine cupped her cheek. This moment also led to questioning. Because what we had just done was a mortal sin here. We wouldn’t simply be abused and abandoned- we would be killed. This was not a question- our doctrine was crystal clear. But what I had just experienced was the closest I could imagine someone could come to what heaven was described as, so there was no way that a real God would discourage it. This was the moment that I began plotting my escape with Claudia, and the moment our stolen interludes took a more… physical tone.

Claudia and I left May with her rolls, and we were greeted by the cooler outside air. “The Brothers don’t really need us for laundry,” I state, and Claudia laughs and hits me, “You little liar!” and then grabs my hand and we run up the hill that leads to the forest line next to May’s.

Sometime later, we were lying next to each other, fingers intertwined and Claudia’s head on my chest in a glade in the forest that the other children avoid. When it rains, it gets swampy and it’s easy to lose a shoe walking around, but Claudia and I know all the solid spots so it’s our perfect escape. “I need to leave this place,” I whisper. Claudia looks up at me and replies softly, “I know. We both do.” “When?” I ask, but she leans up, her hair getting snagged in my shirt’s button, and she is yanked back giggling and I giggle, and the tension is broken for a moment that we are stuck in hell but in love with each other in it. “We can’t yet,” she has laid her head back on my chest, the hair-button entanglement creating an excuse to extend our time together. “I know,” I sigh. Money, family, responsibilities, etc. We had been planning for it all, but we did need more time. “Soon,” Claudia says, and I reply softly, “Soon.”