Annie
My head’s throbbing, and I’m painfully thirsty. I crawl from the mattress beside Tamsin’s bed and creep to the kitchen for a glass of water. The clock reads 7:55 a.m. If I don’t leave now, I’m going to be late for the meeting.
‘I have to go,’ I whisper to a sleeping Tamsin when I return to the bedroom.
‘I’ll walk you out,’ she says without opening her eyes or making any effort to move.
I suppress a smile. ‘That’s okay. You go back to sleep.’
She’s drifted off again before I’ve even left the room.
Sue’s pottering around the kitchen in her dressing gown when I emerge from the bedroom this time. The house smells of freshly ground coffee.
‘You’re up early,’ she says.
‘I have to get going.’
‘Church this morning?’
I don’t correct her. Church is what most would call it. ‘Yeah.’
‘You’re good.’ She sips from her mug. ‘Don’t mind us heathens over here.’ She gives me a playful wink.
I thank her for having me, and she tells me I’m welcome anytime.
As I’m driving home, I brace for the guilt, regret, and remorse. But it doesn’t come. I’m not sorry I went, only that I didn’t fit in. But I don’t think Hunter fit in either. Despite his initial hostile greeting, he ended up being perfect company for the latter part of the night. He clearly wasn’t happy about my being there. I could feel his eyes following me from room to room. Sadly, a part of me enjoyed holding his attention. Under the gentle buzz of a few drinks, I liked being the one he watched. It felt good to be seen. It felt good to be seen by him.
What does that say about me?
Mum is largely silent when I enter the house, so I head straight to the shower. I put on a long-sleeve dress with stockings and black flats. The clothes I wore to the party go straight into the washing machine. I’m paranoid they smell of cigarettes and bourbon, but when I sniff them, they smell of salt and sand—and Hunter Reed.
I’m in the car at 8:40 a.m. because I don’t want to give Mum any more fuel to throw on the fire.
‘You didn’t have breakfast,’ she says as she slips into the passenger seat.
I start the car. ‘Had something at Tamsin’s.’ That’s a lie, and I told it directly to her face.
We’re halfway to the Kingdom Hall when she asks, ‘So, what did you girls get up to last night?’
‘We went to the beach.’ It’s the truth. I simply choose not to mention the party. Or the drinking. Or the fact that my T-shirt was tied up and no one judged me for it. I definitely don’t tell her that I liked that version of me better than this one.
The morning talk is titled ‘Kindness—Essential in the Sight of God’. The whole time Brother Peter’s speaking, I can’t help but think about the brother seated at the back of the Kingdom Hall who we’re all shunning right now due to a rumoured gambling addiction. That doesn’t feel very kind. It never has. It doesn’t align with anything being taught to us right now.
‘Let’s turn to Matthew 5:38,’ Brother Peter says.
There’s a rustle of pages across the hall.
‘It says, “You must accordingly be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”’
I think about the terrible way he speaks to his wife and let out a long breath, prompting Mum to look sideways at me. Leaning in, I whisper, ‘He’s a bit of a hypocrite.’
Her eyes widen slightly. Then she shakes her head at me before returning her attention to him.
After the talk, we sing another song, marking the halfway point of the meeting. Then comes the Watchtower study. The children around me are starting to squirm in their chairs, their parents dipping their heads constantly to remind them to sit still and listen.
Two hours is too long for kids.
Two hours is too long for me.