< previous page page_213 next page >

Page 213
And sex with Morgan? Was that necessary to my survival? She closed her eyes, visualizing the scene with her father years ago, when she had come home after her first date. She'd been fifteen and had been invited to a school dance. Her father had embarrassed her by insisting on an eleven o'clock curfew. The boyshe couldn't even remember his name nowhad brought her home a half hour late. He had been trying an awkward kiss, with his hand on her breast, when the door opened, and there was the Vicar. The boy fled.
The scene that followed was engraved in her memory. Her father had grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the hall, slamming the door behind them. "Is that what you want? To be a whore, like your mother?" He pushed her ahead of him into the living room, his face deep red, distorted by rage, and she fell onto the chair nearest the door. "Your mother was the Whore of Babylon," he shouted, "and you are treading the same filthy path.'' There was more, a great deal more, most of it about the mistake he had made marrying a Catholic and the bad seed that had resulted from his sin.
Then for what seemed like hours, he had knelt at her feet praying to God for her salvation, praying that she would be pure, that she would live a Godly life, resisting all carnal temptation. When, exhausted by his emotions, he finally released her, she had crept up the stairs to bed, beyond tears.
Why am I remembering that, she wondered. Why am I thinking about my mother, whom I never really knew? Was her serial polygamy the same as my own promiscuity? Poor stupid women, hungry for overt signs of love? When I was small, a pat on the head was enough to assure me that my father loved me. But later, I hungered for the words, the embrace when I was sad, the time we could have spent together as a family. Now all I remember is the closed door to his study. I can still remember the carvings of angels on the panels. I can still feel jealous of those friends with whom my father laughed and joked, something he never did with me.
Anna could hear Morgan and Joe Ryerson arguing in low,

 
< previous page page_213 next page >