Thinking Straight by Robin Reardon Read Free Book Online Page B

between men. It was like he knew everything I’d ever felt for Will, every tingle, every touch, every longing. Like he knew how it felt when Will’s fingers caressed the inside of my thigh. Like he knew what went through my mind when I wanted to be with Will and couldn’t. And he made it sound like everything that had ever been between us, between Will and me, made Satan laugh. Made Jesus cry.
    I didn’t argue with him. For one thing, he wasn’t giving me time to say anything. For another, pretty soon I was in tears anyway and couldn’t exactly debate the issue.
    He kept me in there for almost three hours. It was torture. And it got worse when he dragged my parents into it, using scripture to show how much pain I was putting them through. Especially my mother. I can’t remember everything, but I think I managed not to actually say that what Will and I have is sinful. But I can’t be sure that I didn’t say yes or something else that sounded like a confession to Reverend Bartle. All I do know is that I was sobbing like a baby, lying on the floor in fetal position, holding onto my ribs, and feeling like my chest was going to burst open.
    I guess he must have thought I’d confessed my sins, or maybe he figured I’d die if he kept at me any longer. That’s what I thought.
    He pulled me up from where I lay sobbing and walked me out of the chapel, an arm around my shoulders. As we walked he said, “The pain you’re feeling is the tearing out of sin. The ripping out of evil. It’s good pain, Taylor.”
    I tried to shake my head, but since every part of me was shaking I’m not sure he noticed.
    â€œI’ll walk you to your room now. I’m afraid you’ve missed dinner, but it’s my guess you don’t feel much like eating.”
    By the time we stopped at the doorway to the room I would share with Charles, I’d stopped crying, but I was in some kind of emotional haze. Reverend Bartle let go of me and flipped on the light. I kind of slumped against the door frame and watched from some far-off place as he picked something up from the desk on the left. It looked like a yellow piece of paper, but when he peeled off a rectangle about two inches by three, I saw it was from a sheet of labels. He pressed the piece in his hand against the left side of my chest and held it there.
    â€œYou’re in SafeZone now, Taylor. This yellow warning will let the other residents and staff know that you can’t speak to them, so you need to wear one of these until you’re out of SafeZone or else you might violate this part of your residency. That would have serious consequences.” Now the hand dropped. “Your staff leader, Mrs. Harnett, will let you know when you can stop wearing these. Then you may speak again.”
    He set the sheet back down on the desk and looked around the room.
    â€œIs this your luggage beside the bed over there? Just nod or shake your head.”
    I nodded. It was mine. Full of clothing that Mom had had to buy especially for this incarceration, complete with name tags that read T. ADAMS. Not much of my own stuff met the standards of this place.
    â€œAnd here’s the map Charles left for you.” He leaned over to the other side of the desk and picked it up. “Did he show you what room your Prayer Meeting would be in this evening?”
    Nod.
    â€œGood. Now, you might want to take a few minutes to collect yourself before you go there.”
    A few minutes? How about a few days? How about a few years?
    â€œGod loves you, Taylor. God wants you to learn how to love him. We’ll show you how.”
    Before I knew what was happening he moved forward and took me into his arms. We stood there like that, him totally wrapped around me, my arms hanging limp. And he just held me.
    I don’t know why, and I don’t even know if I had a choice, but I reached around and hugged him back. I wanted to cry again. This was