2. Fish Out Of Water
Chapter two
Fish Out Of Water
Maggie
Going to Chicago was supposed to be the best experience of my life, but so far, it had been nothing but tears and embarrassment.
I couldn’t even think about the way I’d left things with Paul after graduation without falling apart.
But the way Father blindsided me was a wound to my heart that I wasn’t sure would ever heal.
When I had my bags loaded onto the bus and was preparing to say my goodbyes to my parents, Mom hugged me.
“We should get going. Your bus leaves soon. Just remember to go to church every Sunday,” Father said, touching Mom’s arm to rush her away. “I’ll be checking with my brother to make sure you do and pulling my financial support if you don’t.”
The way he said it loud enough in front of other passengers was unacceptable.
“I won’t lie to you, Father,” I said, my anger simmering as I decided now was the time to take my stand with him. “I won’t ask Uncle Isaac to lie for me either. I won’t be going to church anymore. It’s your faith, not mine.”
“Excuse me?” he said ominously.
I shielded my eyes from the sun with my hand. “I’ve heard all the sermons, spent every Sunday in church listening to everything you said, and I don’t want to listen to it anymore. You have your beliefs, and I have mine.”
Father took a few tense steps forward. Mom gripped his upper arm, trying to calm him and suggesting we discuss this another time.
“No, I’m afraid this can’t wait, Kelly,” Father said, tugging away from her grip on his arm to lean in closer to me.
Strange how he didn’t want anyone to hear what he had to say now.
“Today marks a choice that will decide your future, Margaret. I have raised you a certain way, and I expect you to follow those teachings your whole life. Reject God now, and we will become strangers forever,” Father stated, his eyes narrowed as he carved his deep line in the sand.
“Your first year of tuition is paid, but after that, you’re on your own. ”
He stood back, looking smug like he had me right where he wanted me.
Pressing my lips together, I thought carefully about what to say.
I didn’t want to lose my parents, but the knot in my chest was undeniable.
The thumb he carefully held me under was more than I could continue to bear.
There was no way to patch this up because I refused to cower beneath Father’s threats.
However, I was an adult and heading out to live with family who supported me exactly as I was.
Now that I was no longer his to control, I would not be bullied by him or his God.
Knowing Uncle Isaac and Aunt June as well as I did, I knew they would help me figure out tuition and living arrangements.
I glanced over at Mom. Tears welled in her eyes, which made mine blur, too.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” I said to Father, crossing my arms. “I love you, but I’m not some little girl you can order around anymore.
I know right from wrong. I know how to live without being threatened into good behavior.
From now on, I refuse to be guilted and manipulated by any bullies, whether they’re standing in front of me or invisible.
Since I love you and Mom very much, I hope you will reconsider your position as time passes as you realize that you love me unconditionally.
I hope you also remember that I’m your daughter first and foremost, regardless of faith. ”
Part of me expected him to rage. Another part of me thought he might just walk away without a word. The reality was far worse.
Father looked on me with disgust. “A daughter who loved me wouldn’t disrespect me or The Lord that way. Your choice is unacceptable, so I am pulling our support and funding from here on out. Goodbye, Margaret.”
That voice he used reminded me of the sermons I’d listened to for years. That judgmental tone, that fury and hellfire piercing deeper than even a scream because it was delivered as if it was supposed to give comfort. I felt like I’d been hit across the jaw.
“Kelly, let’s go,” he said, turning away and walking to the car.
Mom hugged me gently. When she leaned back, pressing her hand to my cheek, she swiped away one of my tears with her thumb while one of her own rolled down her cheek.
Giving me a brave smile, she whispered, “I know you’re capable of amazing things, Maggie. And no matter when we see each other again, always know I love you.”
Father honked to get Mom’s attention. She gave me one last kiss on the cheek, squeezed my hand, then left.
Watching her walk away was almost as hard as leaving Paul yesterday.
I clamped a hand over my mouth, trying to stop emotion until I boarded the bus, found a seat away from everyone else, and fell apart.
For the whole four-hour trip, I vacillated between sobbing and staring out the window in disbelief.
What was supposed to be a great sendoff turned into being disowned. And the only boy I’d ever loved wouldn’t come with me. No one wanted me anymore.
During the times I’d stayed with Aunt June and Uncle Isaac for week-long visits every summer, I’d sometimes wished they were my parents because they were so sweet and understanding. Some wishes shouldn’t be thought, though, because it had become my reality. Now, they were all I had.
When I met Uncle Isaac and Aunt June at the bus station as planned, they held me as I explained through my tears what happened.
Uncle Isaac called Father, incensed, trying to reason with him but to no avail.
So, they quietly took over as my guardians.
They took me back to their loft apartment overlooking the lake, a testament to their success, and only asked me to help with a few chores in lieu of paying rent.
Now that it had been a week since then and I was more functional, Aunt June took a week off of work to take me to all of my favorite museums. Distracting me with ancient Egyptians and millions of stars, I avoided the fresh hurt that made it hard to breathe.
Retail therapy would usually cheer me up, but in buying clothes for school, I worried how Aunt June paid for them herself.
The debt I owed to my aunt and uncle grew every day, but they never mentioned it or asked for repayment.
With their love and support, they helped me figure out who I was now without the constraints I grew up with my whole life.
Part of what made my first few weeks in Chicago so awkward was the way I teared up over little things. An ad showing farmers. A man wearing a plaid shirt and cap. A clergyman clutching a Bible. A mother attending to her child. It didn’t take much to remind me what I’d lost.
With the city becoming my adoptive home, I’d hoped to fit in somehow, but I stuck out, smiling too much and managing to be in everyone’s way. However, my aunt and uncle never gave up on me. They helped me find an online counselor, walked with me in the city, and gave me steady support.
By the time school started, I learned how to navigate Chicago to blend into the crowd.
After a few weeks into the school year, I became one of those people who motored down the street, so busy that I stared at my phone all the time, too.
Part of that was because I was able to secure a paid internship with Uncle Isaac’s company, but it was also because I was bogged down in homework.
With a double-major in art and marketing, I planned to combine the two the way he had to make a commercial art career for myself.
There was barely time to breathe until I let myself take a few hours for self-care on the weekend.
The fact that my schedule was hectic enough to distract me from my shattered heart was just a bonus.
Sure, I thought about my parents, but it was losing Paul that made me cry into my pillow at night.
I still thought about him every day no matter how often I’d convinced myself that I should move on from that childish crush.
Staring at his picture and the bookmark I’d made from lavender from the pond years ago that I’d put in the pages of my favorite novel, I remembered the little things he did for me just because, and I knew it was more than a crush for me. It was love.
“Ready to go to the opening?” Uncle Isaac asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I had only been in Chicago for a month when we were going to an art gallery for the opening of a new display. Being in the middle of the art scene definitely had its perks.
When I arrived at the front door, I almost expected him to chide me for wearing pants, like Father would. But Uncle Isaac held the door for Aunt June and me.
“You both look lovely,” he said while we walked by him.
Aunt June gave me a secret smile, remembering our recent shopping trip to get me a shorter skirt like other girls my age.
“You do look fabulous, dear,” she said with a wink.
I nodded, even tried a hint of a smile. While I appreciated everything they were doing for me, guilt sat heavy on my chest because despite the rift between my parents and me, I felt more like myself.
I was right to set the boundary with Father.
Here, I wasn’t the pastor’s daughter, tied to the expectations of his faith; I was the woman I wanted to be.
A woman who wore pants or a short skirt, spoke her mind, and released years’ worth of manipulation one journal entry and counseling session at a time.
On the rare chance that I wasn’t running from one place to another, I checked social media to keep up with my best friend, Suzie.
We talked on the weekends, sometimes, too.
It was nice to hear that she was settling into community college life while working at a restaurant in Mainview.
She commuted to school with Kyle Gentry, her boyfriend.
They seemed pretty serious, so I was happy for her, although secretly a little jealous, too.
In late October, Suzie uploaded some pictures of a bonfire to her social media account.
“Hey, so the bonfire was fun, huh?” I said, calling her while I scrolled through the photos.
Suzie couldn’t contain herself, squealing with delight. “Yes! It was everyone from school plus a few of the new seniors this year. We had the music up and danced all night out at Liza’s place. Kyle was so handsome, see?”
While she gushed about Kyle, I kept scrolling and found pictures from that night that Jo Ellen posted. In one of the photos, Jo Ellen had her arms thrown around Paul while he smiled at her.
“Suzie?” I asked, my voice shrill. “Was Paul there?”
My best friend went quiet. “Well, um, yeah. Josh hauled him along, forcing him to be social. You know Paul. He’s not really big on those things.”
“Was he with Jo Ellen?” I asked, demanding an answer. “Is he with her?”
“Oh, honey, you know how Jo Ellen is. She was sitting with him at one point, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”
In Jo Ellen’s post, she went on about how wonderful the bonfire was, adding all sorts of heart emojis to the post until I wanted to gag. While Paul didn’t confirm or like the post, he didn’t comment on it to dispute it either.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I said, unfollowing everyone from home on my social media account through a blur of tears. “I can’t watch him date her, so I’m setting everything to private, and I won’t be on for a long time. Don’t tag me in anything, okay? I just can’t.”
“Maggie,” Suzie said, then trailed off. “Yeah, I get it. If it was Kyle, I'd probably do the same thing. Well, I won’t bring up anything from around here when we talk, but you’ll be okay without him. You know that, right?”
I barely answered her before I disconnected and cried myself to sleep.
The next day, I wallowed in self-pity alone watching sappy romance movies until Aunt June poked her head into my room. “I heard sniffling through the door. Do you want to talk about it?”
I lifted one shoulder. “It’s nothing.”
“I’ve heard I’m a good listener,” she prodded, reaching out her hand to me.
Taking it, I was grateful for the support. “There’s this boy …”
Aunt June nodded. “Ah, yes. That makes more sense.”
I bit my lower lip, trying not to cry. “We promised to keep in touch, but we left on such bad terms that we haven’t. Well, yesterday,” I cleared my throat as I tried to keep my composure, “I saw a picture of him with another girl.”
“Were you two dating?” she asked.
Shaking my head, I grabbed another tissue. “No, we were just friends, but I cared for him more than that. I feel so stupid, though. He’s doing fine without me while I’m here pining.”
She gave me a sympathetic smile. “It’s perfectly natural to miss someone you care about and feel bad about seeing them move on without you.
Feel what you feel, grieve the relationship you lost, but you’re too young to think you’ve lost love and won’t ever find it again.
Do these movies make you feel bad or give you hope that love is still out there for you? ”
Sniffling again, I dabbed the tissue against my nose. “Mostly, they give me hope that the person I’m meant to be with is still out there somewhere. I just have to find him.”
Aunt June smiled. “Then why don’t I make some popcorn for us and join you?”
I nodded. It felt nice to have someone who wanted to watch movies with me. Father always hated them, saying how they inspired people to believe in a fairy tale instead of the reality of marriage. But sometimes a girl just needed to see two people fall in love and get their happily ever after.