The Girls I've Been(25)

“This is bullshit!” Jamison declares, and Elijah’s eyes go steely, like when he talks about the devil on that stage with his pop star mic looped around his head.

“Do not use that language, young man.”

But Jamison is already up and bolting out of the restaurant. Elijah sighs and Mom looks at me, a significant look.

I know what I’m supposed to do.

I also know what happens if I chase him.

I do it anyway.



* * *



—

My lip’s bleeding by the time Jamison stalks away, off to sulk in the car. I touch my tongue against the spot, tasting copper.

“Here.” A napkin’s thrust under my nose. I take it, holding it to my lip as I look up at Pastor Elijah.

“It’s fine. I just bit my lip,” I say, testing him.

He glances over to the parking lot where the car is and then back to me. He knows exactly why my lip is bleeding.

“I’ve watched you these last months,” he says.

“I don’t mean to draw attention.”

“You’re a good girl. You keep sweet, no matter what,” he tells me, and I smile back at him when he smiles so approvingly, because oh, did I have him pegged right. He’s sending me a message: This is what I am—just a bleeding target. He wants to make me smaller.

But I haven’t been small this whole time. I’ve just been waiting to unfurl.

“I want to be good,” I say, and it’s true, in a way. I want to be great. I want to be perfect. Just like Mom.

“You’ll be a good little sister,” he tells me, and it’s more of an order than a compliment.

“I hope so,” I say, and that’s true, too. If there’s anything I want to be, other than my mother’s perfect daughter, it’s beloved by my sister.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go get your mother. We have a lot of plans to make.”

He holds out his hand like he expects me to take it.

So I do.

It’s all part of the plan.


Act 3: Aim Where It Hurts

Elijah throws a celebration each year to commemorate the day he opened the church. Apart from Easter and Christmas, it’s the big payday in terms of those love offerings.

Mom has it figured out beat by beat: The service starts at 2:00 p.m., and some of the women go to cook the food in the church kitchen after, and others scatter to wrangle the kids. Elijah’s moving through the sea of people, Mom by his side. She catches my eye and nods.

I move.

Haley is unobtrusive. No one really pays her any mind in the crowd. So no one notices when I slip out of the sanctuary and weave through the maze of halls that I’ve mapped not just in my head, but on actual paper for practice.

I grab the bag I stashed behind a stack of extra chairs, then head to the bathroom.

The bathrooms closest to the office are empty, and it takes ten minutes to clog the toilets enough so the water’s sloshing onto the tile floors. I tiptoe out of the bathroom so my shoes won’t leave wet marks and hum to myself as I stroll back down the hall. All that’s left in my bag is a stack of Bibles. I pull them out and toss the bag in the garbage can as I pass. They get tucked under my arm neatly. Looking over my shoulder, I can see that the carpet in front of the bathroom door is getting darker.

Perfect. Right on time.

By now, Mom has made the excuse to go check on the women in the kitchen, leaving Elijah behind in the sanctuary.

He won’t see her again.

Still clutching the Bibles, I knock lightly on the office door at the end of the hall, then swing it open and peek my head in before there’s an answer.

Adrian, Elijah’s administrative assistant, is sitting at his desk like he always does after a service. The beauty of this con is that Elijah runs a big operation, and does it in a way that’s good for him financially but bad for him if he’s about to get robbed, which he is. He underpays people and doesn’t like shelling out for security. Adrian is a twenty-three-year-old unpaid intern from the Bible college. He shouldn’t be sitting there “guarding” the safe. But Elijah doesn’t trust anyone to handle—or count—the money. It all goes straight down here, completely unaccounted for until the next morning, when he’s got time to deal with it. It’s a terrible way of doing things, but it does make it easier for us. Because after a big day like this, that safe’s going to be full. And the only thing standing in our way is Adrian, who is sweet and the kind of naive that comes from your parents sheltering you from the scary secular world and you never poking a toe out, even once.

“Adrian, I think there’s a big problem in the bathroom,” I say. “I was bringing these Bibles back to storage for my mom and there’s dirty water all over the hall!”

“What?” He leaps to his feet, and I hold the door open for him as he speeds out and down the hall, turning the corner so he’s out of sight. “Oh my gosh!” I hear his voice echo a little down the hall when he sees the disaster I’ve created.

I don’t have a lot of time. My heart’s in my throat as I rush to the window, unlocking it and pushing it open. Mom’s there, climbing inside as soon as there’s space, and I step out of the way as she slides into the room.

“You’re on lookout.”

My entire body feels like it’s vibrating as I go to the door and crack it. I keep one eye on the hall, but every few seconds, I glance back to watch her progress.