“Then why don’t you do it for me.” I pushed my shoddy work toward her.
“Believe me, I would if I could . . . but I can’t.” She forced it back into my hands.
I had no idea what I’d done to piss her off, but she made me anxious. And I hated being this bad at anything.
“We can’t help,” Beth patted my arm. “It has to be your own creation. It’s tradition. You’re doing really well for your first time.” She could barely say it with a straight face. “I mean . . . it’s more symbolic than anything.”
I looked down at the limp massacred leaves in my hands and laughed. “Poor number nine.”
Aside from Lauren’s sour mood, the atmosphere was jovial. Everyone seemed excited and full of life. It was contagious. I had to remind myself that these people were total freaks who wanted to steal my mother’s body.
“She’s ready,” Lou said with a flourish of her pruney fingers.
The women helped me out of the tub and began to smooth the warm, gold-flecked oil into my skin. It took everything I had to make myself stand there and let them do it. There wasn’t anything sexual about it—in fact it was just the opposite, it seemed almost reverent, but I got irritated when people even brushed up against me in the subway. The plan had been to gain their trust, but I didn’t expect the process to be this hands-on.
“You look perfect,” Lou said as she slipped a sheer white cotton sheath over my head. “Just as I imagined.”
I ran my fingertips over the delicate lace scalloping the neckline, wondering if it was the same gown my mother wore on the night of her wreathing ceremony.
Lou led me to a full-length mirror. I couldn’t help but smile. I looked like a painted tintype from another century. I knew the girl standing before me, but she looked like a better version of me. My loose waves were threaded with tiny white sweet alyssum blooms. Skin smooth as silk. The long willowy lines of my body seemed more powerful now, the downward curve of my mouth that had always felt childish had become sensuous—even my eyes appeared more striking, like deep water that had been set afire.
A drum outside began to pound slow and steady, like a dirge. As the women formed a line, I realized it was a signal that the ceremony was about to start. Beth led me to the back of the line.
Rhys joined us, looking like he’d just been through the wringer.
“Don’t be nervous.” Beth squeezed my arm like a blood-pressure cuff, which only made me more nervous.
My body battled between anxiety and excitement. I wanted answers. I wanted to remain indifferent—see what this was all about, but the community seemed perfectly harmless, as far as cults go—and, dare I say, charming.
Beth gave me some last-minute advice. “Remember, all you have to do is walk down the line, stand in front of number nine and say, ‘My body, my soul, I commit to you.’ He’ll remove your blindfold and you’ll put the wreath on his head. It’s that simple. And have fun with it. Make it suspenseful. Wait till you see him.” She leaned on me like a crutch. “He’s so hump-able.”
“‘Hump-able’?” I repeated in disbelief.
“You know,” she whispered. “Hump is when you kiss a boy you’re not intended for.”
“Oh God, Beth. That’s not wh—”
The doors opened and Beth hurriedly tied the sash over my eyes. Rhys made sure it wasn’t too tight. The gesture made me breathe a little easier.
With Beth on one side and Rhys on the other, I clutched my sad wreath, and they led me down the stairs toward the entrance.
“You don’t have to do this,” Rhys whispered.
“It’ll be fine.” I squeezed his arm. “We need to play along for now.”
But for me, it was more than playing along. Something about being here in this moment felt right. And that scared me more than anything.
13
WREATHED
SLOWLY, BETH AND RHYS led me outside. The heat from the lit torches kissed my shoulders; I felt an overwhelming calm wash over me, a lightness in my soul.
I stepped onto the cool damp grass, feeling it between my toes. Every step I took seemed to root me deeper into the soil, like a memory being reawakened from deep within my cells. The wind found me, pressing the soft cotton sheath against my body. Even with the susurration of the crowd, I’d never felt so comfortable in my own skin.
The women spun me around fast, at least a dozen times, and then set me loose. They giggled as I stumbled around the field like a drunk. I steadied myself and took a deep breath, shutting out the rest of the world and letting my senses take over.