Chapter 18
Seven pairs of eyes fixed on me as Lehi delivered the news. Despite the storm developing inside me—the guilt that threatened to demolish any hope or happiness I had for a future with Porter—I did my very best to appear happy to my sister wives. If I didn’t seem elated about the blessing that was to be my first child with our husband, the other wives would know it was all a lie, the most foul form of deception.
And so my lips curled up, and with every ounce of strength within me, I forced “happy” tears to build in my eyes.
“This is new,” Lehi boomed, his voice bursting with pride at his ability to impregnate the one wife who had always been a challenge in that regard. “So we must be cautious. But it is also worthy of much celebration. Please join me in prayer.”
The wives joined hands, Aspen’s squeezing mine tightly, and we bowed our heads as Lehi led our prayer.
“Heavenly Father, we thank you for the continued blessings of this household. We are especially grateful for the new life inside Brinley. May you keep her well so that she may produce a healthy child for our family.”
When I heard the words “new life,” my gut clenched in disgust. At myself.
Lies.
So many lies were mounting. Higher and higher they climbed.
How would I ever keep up with all them?
? ? ?
When our meeting came to a close, Aspen followed me to my bedroom. It was a Saturday morning, and I was hoping to sneak away to the free clinic and to Porter’s apartment. He’d greeted me this morning with an invitation.
P: Please come by. I’ll wait all day. But hurry. I miss you.
Despite the anger I felt toward myself for my lies, my feelings had not changed for Porter. I understood his reasons—he couldn’t share me, wouldn’t share me because of the intensity of his feelings. It was flattering and wonderful and scary. I knew that I was falling in love with Porter, stolen moment by stolen moment, text message by text message. I knew that if I were brave enough to leave Lehi’s home, Porter would welcome and support me, no questions asked, no hesitation whatsoever.
I was the problem . . . the roadblock . . . the bump in the road.
Because I wasn’t brave enough to go.
And so the lie I told my husband was mine alone. I owned it, claimed it as my own deception. Porter might have thought of the lie, but I was the sole reason it had to be announced.
So his text messages gave me just as many butterflies in my belly as they did before I informed Lehi of my pretend pregnancy. And I hoped that Aspen wouldn’t prevent me from seeing him that day.
“I’m so happy for you, Brinley,” Aspen said, picking up pieces of laundry from the wicker basket on my floor, and laying them flat on my bed. “I’ll do your ironing today.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised. “That’s so nice.”
“You’ll need to rest as much as possible. Have you had any morning sickness yet? Lehi said it’s early . . . how early?”
My pulse quickened. I took a breath before continuing my lie, making sure that my story remained consistent.
“Just a few weeks. My period was due two weeks ago.”
“Did you take a test?”
I nodded.
“I always keep mine, you know, as a memento or something,” she said, tilting her head to the side. “Did you?”
“Um, no,” I replied, avoiding her curious eyes. “I didn’t think of it.”
“Oh well.” Aspen shrugged, forcing a smile. She was keeping sweet, which was odd for Aspen. When we were separated from the rest of the household, she usually ignored that mantra, instead sharing her honest thoughts and opinions. She’d always been what Leandra called an “open book” when it was just the two of us.
So, what was different now?
“You rest, I’ll take care of this.” Aspen scooped the basket into her arms and walked to the door. “If you need anything, just let me know, all right? Pregnancy can be scary.”
“Scary?”
She nodded. “It’s a whirlwind of emotions. Excitement, curiosity, with a lot of fear mixed in.”
“Why fear?”
“Remember Jessa? What she went through?”
“Yes.”
“And what I told you about myself?” Her voice cracked, and the memory of her little daughter Ruthie playing nursemaid as Aspen lost her baby came rushing back to me.
This time, the tears that left my eyes weren’t forced. They poured freely, filled with guilt and sadness for the only sister wife who seemed to actually care about me. The rest of them just looked through me.
“I’m so sorry, I—”
“Brinley, I have four healthy children. I’m not reminding you of this to make you feel bad. You asked why there’s fear, and so I answered. That’s all.”
I used my sleeve as I attempted to brush the tears, and guilt, from my face as Aspen walked out my door. But when the door clicked shut, I couldn’t contain the remorse that consumed me. I slid to the floor, leaning my back against the side of my mattress, and hung my head in my hands, tears dripping past my palms and landing on my dress.
How could I ever look Aspen in the eye again? Or Jessa?
I was taking their pain, taking their horrific experiences and, what? Trivializing them? Using them to my own advantage? Using them to indulge in my own need to lay with a man who was not my husband.
I was the type of person the prophet preached about. The kind that could “infect” an entire family.
And if Lehi or Leandra discovered the truth about this fictitious pregnancy, my existence would be altered forever.
? ? ?
Tiffany was slumped over the counter at the free clinic, filling out paperwork for a patient with an injured arm. When I approached, we exchanged our usual verbal volley, a conversational dance that had become familiar. She always pleaded with me to ask for help, but this time I shocked her by taking her up on her offer.
“Actually, I-I could use some help.”
Her eyes snapped open wide. “Brinley! Are you leaving? Do you need a place to stay? A job?”
“No . . . no. I, uh, I need to know some things . . . about pregnancy and stuff.”
Her expectant smile fell into a frown. “I don’t understand. Those pills are keeping you from getting pregnant. What exactly do you want to know?”
“What is it like? When do women start to show? What is morning sickness like? Stuff like that. It’s no big deal, I can ask someone else.”
“No.” She raised her hand to stop my dismissive response. “We’re slow today. I’ll get you an examination room and we’ll talk. I’ve never been pregnant, but I can certainly do a Google search.”
“A what?”
Tiffany rolled her eyes. “I’ll show you.” She leaned down and retrieved several pamphlets, then placed them in my hand.
Your Pregnancy: How to Plan
So, You’re Going to be a Parent
And:
Morning Sickness, the First Trimester
“This is a good start. But I’ll answer everything I can. Come on back.” She grabbed a small device from the edge of the counter and led me to a cramped exam room.
I perched atop the paper-covered table, my heart going a mile a minute. I knew I could trust Tiffany, but that didn’t stop the dread from building. What would she think of this decision I’d made? What would she think of me and my desire to have a sexual relationship with Porter?
Should I tell her?
Could I?
“Okay,” she began. “Start from the beginning. Why do you need to know anything about pregnancy? Clearly, you have no intention of having Lehi’s babies anytime soon. So, fill me in. Because I’m kinda confused.”
“I’m not sure how to say this.” I rubbed at the crispy paper beneath me again and again until the sweat from my hands ripped it to soggy shreds. I was tentative in my words, my movements, afraid of losing an ally that I so desperately needed.
“Brinley, you don’t have to hesitate with me. Seriously. I’m not one of them. I’m on my own, remember?” Her sincerity soothed me, creating a cocoon of safety in the room.
Taking a chance, I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes, embraced the security of her promised trust.
“Lehi thinks I’m pregnant.”
“Okaaay,” Tiffany replied. My eyes still shut, I had no idea if hers were filled with judgment, confusion, or even empathy. “Why does he think that?”
“Because . . . because . . .” Tears streamed down my cheeks.
“Brinley, c’mon. Just tell me.”
“Because I lied. I made it up. I made up a pregnancy so I wouldn’t have to sleep with him.”
I brought up my hands to cover my face, and hung my head in my hands. I expected Tiffany’s disapproval, her scorn.
But instead, she laughed.
“Are you kidding me? That may be the smartest thing you’ve ever done!” I could hear her rise from her seat and walk to me. Her hand rubbed my back in a soothing motion.
Stunned, I lifted my face and my eyes met hers.
“What?” I couldn’t even begin to comprehend her reaction to my twisted, deplorable behavior.
“I mean it, cousin. That dirty old man doesn’t deserve to touch you, to have his hands on you. I’m proud of you for making this decision. Now you won’t need your pills.”
“Well . . .” Averting my eyes, I bit on my bottom lip and flinched from the pain.
“Oh my God. Are you . . .”
As her voice trailed off, I focused my attention on the wall, too ashamed to meet her eyes. But I nodded my head.
“Porter?” she pressed.
I nodded again.
“Holy shit.”
“Tiffany!”
“Sorry, sorry.” She shook her head. “But this is a big freaking deal. I mean, you’re sleeping with him? How long has this been going on?”
“It hasn’t yet, but I want to. So badly, I can think of almost nothing else.”
“Wow.” Tiffany returned to her seat, then picked up the small gadget and slid her finger on the screen. “Make sure he wears a condom, okay?”
“Why? What is that?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Please don’t do that,” I begged her. “I feel silly enough as it is.”
I surprised myself with my demand. It wasn’t like me to stick up for myself in any given situation—let alone one like this where I felt so vulnerable, so foolish for not understanding the outside world, and things with such silly names as “con-dum.”
“It’s important,” Tiffany said absently as she focused on the tiny screen. “You need it to keep yourself safe from diseases. I can give you some pamphlets on that too.”
I was confused, but I trusted Tiffany and didn’t want to stray too far from the topic at hand . . . my fake baby.
“What’s that?” I gestured to the small device in her hand.
“It’s an iPad.”
“What does it do?” I peered at the flat device, wondering how this could possibly help me in any way.
“It’s like a mini computer. I’m going to do a Google search for you, and I’ll print off a bunch of information.”
I nodded, watching her tap her fingers on the small machine.
“Do you know your due date?” she asked.
I shook my head. “No.”
“All right, let’s calculate one for you. What did you tell him? About how far along you are.”
“He thinks my period was due two weeks ago.”
“Perfect, I can figure it out for you.”
Her fingers continued to tap and slide from side to side with abrupt movements as she stared at the screen.
“May first.”
“Wow. It all feels so real now, even though it isn’t.”
“I just realized,” she said, looking up from the “pad.”
“What?”
“This pregnancy has to end at some point. We’ll have to figure out when that would most likely happen. Are you going to fake a miscarriage?”
I bit into my lip once again, and cringed at the harsh taste of my own blood. Tears flooded my eyes.
“Stop,” Tiffany insisted. “There’s no shame here. Not with me.”
“Do you mean that? I mean, really mean it?”
“Absolutely. I’ll help you in any way I can. Always. You don’t belong there, Brinley. I feel it in my gut.”
“I wish I did too. But I’m too afraid.”
I wanted to run my fingers through my hair, knowing it would calm me, but was hindered by the bulky braid. That braid represented years of repression, years of being stifled by my upbringing, by my beliefs and community.
“Do you think I wasn’t?” Tiffany’s hands pressed into her hips as she glowered at me. “I was ridiculously afraid, Brinley. But I knew I didn’t belong there. And you don’t either. I promise that when you make the decision to leave—”
“If,” I said, correcting her.
“When,” she repeated, “it’ll be hard. I won’t sugarcoat it. It will be the most difficult, grueling thing you’ll ever experience. But you’ll fly, remember? Your wings won’t be clipped anymore. You’ll soar through the air, answering to no one but yourself.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” She smiled at me and patted my shoulder. “You just have to take a leap of faith. One so giant it’s frightening. But you have to do it or you’ll never be free. You’ll remain chained to Lehi Cluff for years, decades, and eventually, fake pregnancies won’t be an option. You’ll find yourself pregnant with his babies. Again and again you’ll bear his children, and your chains will grow tighter and tighter. You need to jump off that cliff now, Brinley, before you no longer have a choice. Trust me.”
I found myself tongue-tied, with no response to her plea. Everything she said made sense, everything. So, why was I fighting this? Why was I clinging to a life I resented? To a life that brought me nothing but frustration, secrets, and shame?
Maybe Tiffany was right. Maybe it was time to go.
Or at least consider the idea.
The whisper was not quite a scream yet, but it was growing louder.
I just had to listen.
? ? ?
“I thought you’d never get here,” Porter murmured into my ear, pressing his hand into the small of my back and pulling me close. So close, I could feel the pounding of his heart through my thick cotton dress.
“I got here as soon as I could.” I relaxed fully, snuggling closer as I submerged myself in the touch of Porter. I hadn’t seen him in days, not since he’d given me my first orgasm.
Since then I’d craved more, so much more. I wanted to feel that way again. And this time, I wanted Porter to feel it right along with me.
With nimble fingers, I unbuttoned the buttons of my dress . . . one by one.
Porter pulled away and stared at my hands, then cleared his throat. “What are you doing?”
“I’m ready.”
“But—”
I pressed my finger to his lips. “We announced my pregnancy this morning. Lehi won’t touch me.”
“Oh.” His eyes brightened with those words, and the restraint in his expression disappeared. The hunger he’d repressed for months broke free as his hands joined mine in unbuttoning my dress.
“This body,” I continued, feeling bolder, more feminine and seductive, “is for you . . . and you alone.”
Porter whipped the dress over my head, then focused on removing the long underwear that covered my skin. Soon that dropped to my ankles along with my dress. I resisted the urge to cover my naked body once he’d removed my bra and panties. The ravenous look in his eyes made adrenaline shoot through my veins, and the throbbing of my private area returned. He gripped the hair at the base of my scalp, inhaling deeply as his eyes met mine. His nostrils flared, and his eyes darkened.
“I’ve waited so long, Brin . . . so long to have you like this. I’m going to savor it, make you scream my name. Make you mine.”
“Yes.” An intense sigh left my lips as rolled my head back, losing myself in the passion of his kisses against the hot skin of my neck. “Yes, please.”
“Lay on the bed.”
“Yes, si—”
I pressed my hand to my mouth in shock. How could I have said that?
Porter lifted my chin with his hand and stared deeply into my eyes. “No. Don’t you ever call me that. This is about us. Not me . . . us. I’m not him.”
“I-I know, I’m so sorry. I just—”
“Shh.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t apologize. But that’s the last time either of us thinks about that shithead in this room. All right?”
I nodded, holding back tears, terrified that I had quite possibly spoiled my first time with Porter by falling into old habits I shared with Lehi.
Crawling onto Porter’s bed, I turned my body to rest on my back, propped up by my elbows, waiting for Porter. He opened his nightstand drawer and retrieved a small square packet.
“What’s that?” I stared down at the packet as he ripped it open and removed a rubbery-looking sleeve from the packaging.
“A condom,” he said softly, stripping himself of his jeans and underpants. He slid the condom onto his hard penis. The throbbing of my private area returned as I stared at the length of him.
“You . . . um . . .”
“What?” he asked with a laugh.
“You’re so . . . big.”
His laughter grew, turning into a hearty chuckle as he shook his head. “I’ll be gentle, I promise. Now come here.”
He pressed his lips to mine and immediately opened his mouth, inviting me in. Embracing the bold nature within me, I touched my tongue to his, exploring the taste of him. My skin tingled at his touch as his fingertips exploring each curve of my body. He pressed me against the mattress, planting kisses on my naked breasts. My nipples rose to meet his lips and tongue. Within seconds, he’d pulled one nipple completely into this mouth, sucking hard, causing me to gasp at the intensity of his need for me. His teeth grazed against the taut tip, then he teased it gently with his tongue.
“Mmm,” I murmured.
“You like that?”
“Oh yes.”
“Good.” He lightly touched the skin of my private area, and I jumped slightly at the sensation of his touch. “Relax, baby.”
My nipples ached, missing the teasing of his lips as he moved down my torso, skimming my skin with his tongue. Within seconds, my legs were draped over his shoulders and he was kissing me passionately in my most sensitive spot.
I arched my back in ecstasy as his movements reminded me of our encounter the other day.
My first orgasm.
Oh, how I wanted another.
Again and again, Porter brought me to the brink. Pleasure mounted and climbed within me, then I’d groan with frustration as he’d pull his mouth away and give me a wicked grin just before I reached a release. With each round of intimate kisses and strokes of his tongue, the pleasure grew stronger, until I felt like I might break apart if he continued, and die if he didn’t.
“Please, Porter . . . Please.”
“Tell me what you want.” He growled playfully, then kissed my inner thighs.
“I want to come. Please, let me come,” I begged, my hands clutching the sheets. He tipped his head back to my private area, and I squealed. “No. Not like that.”
“What do you want, Brin?” he asked again, then licked me again.
“Inside me,” I cried out. “I want you inside me.”
Without another word, Porter hoisted himself on his knees and pulled my legs apart, then sank himself deep within me. Unlike my experience with Lehi, my muscles didn’t clench, they didn’t resist—they opened for him, welcomed him. A smile crossed my face at the realization.
Porter slowly began to pump inside me, and my hips lifted against his in response. Within seconds, I felt the buildup once again and dug my fingers into his shoulders as I arched my back and screamed his name. The orgasm shot through me with an intensity I never could have hoped to experience. It felt as if every cell of my body had broken apart during that moment. Porter continued to thrust as I bucked beneath him, my arms flailing against the mattress.
“Oh God, Brin . . . I’m so close.”
Porter’s brow was knitted and sweat dripped from his forehead as he pressed it to mine. He groaned as he found his own release, taking my mouth once again in a passionate kiss as he rocked against me again and again before collapsing on my chest.
He rolled to his side but draped his arm over my belly, running his fingertips gently against my ribs. It tickled slightly. My entire body hummed in the afterglow of our lovemaking.
“How was it? I mean . . . it sounded good, but—” Porter’s cheeks were flushed. He shrugged after asking the question that I felt he should already know the answer to.
“It was the most amazing experience of my life.”
I stared up at the ceiling, still trying to process the emotions that were filling me from head to toe.
Elation?
Satisfaction?
Joy?
Love?
Porter shifted to perch on his open palm, his elbow digging into the mattress. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a smile growing on his handsome face.
“And you?” I asked, nervous that I might not have given him the pleasure that he’d clearly given me.
“I’ve had sex,” he admitted. “I can’t lie to you. I mean, it’s physically impossible for me to lie to you.” He chuckled uncomfortably, scratching the five o’clock shadow that was forming on his chin. “But that . . . that was different from anything in my past. It was like . . . I don’t know. Anything I compare it to will make me sound lame.”
“I don’t care.” I turned to him, reaching out to touch the prickly stubble on his face, urging him to tell me the truth. “You can say anything to me.”
“I’ve never been in it emotionally, ya know? I mean, it was always just sex. Just physical. But with you, it was so much more. You make me feel alive . . . like anything is possible.” He shook his head. “God. I’m an idiot.”
Quickly, I raised up on my elbow and my gaze met his. “No, you’re not. You’re saying everything that I feel. It’s scary, right?”
“Yeah.” His eyes began to glisten with that simple word. “But I don’t care. Bring the fear, bring the pain. You’re worth it.”
“I agree.”
“No regrets?” he asked, his eyes concerned.
I smiled and ran my fingers through his hair. “Never.”
“Good.” He sighed and brushed at the stray hairs that hung over my forehead. “That makes me happy.”
“You make me happy,” I whispered.
Porter scooted himself off the bed, tossed the condom into a garbage pail, and walked to a bookshelf on the wall, retrieving a small notebook.
“So . . . that thing . . . the condom. What is it, um, for exactly?”
“It’s protection . . . for you.”
His words confused me. I tried to remember what Tiffany had said, but my brain felt like mush after our lovemaking.
“I’ve been with other women, and I know I’ve been f*cked up some of the time and skipped using one of these.” He gestured to the packet in his hand. “I can’t risk giving you anything.”
“Giving me anything? What do you mean?”
“Look, I think I’m clean. I don’t think I have any STDs, but I won’t gamble with your health. No way.”
“STD? What is that?”
His expression softened and he sat next to me on the bed. He rubbed my back slowly, his fingers tickled the skin of my shoulder. “Sexually transmitted diseases.”
Goose bumps rose on my arms. Porter could have a disease? The pamphlets. I never looked at the pamphlets.
“Are you . . . sick?”
“No, no. It’s just something you’re supposed to do to be safe. I promise I’ll get myself tested. I’ll do anything you want.”
His eyes were sincere and I trusted his intentions. “Thank you.”
Porter glanced at the notebook in his hands. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his fingers lightly tapping at the plastic of the cover.
“I want to show you something,” he said. “But I don’t want to scare you away.”
“You won’t,” I insisted. “I promise.”
“Sometimes when I can’t see you for a while, my mind wanders, ya know? And I have to get it out. I have to find some way to have you with me, even if you’re only in my imagination.”
“Oh.”
He placed the notebook beside me. I sat up, not bothering to cover myself with a sheet, and opened the first page of the notebook. His handwriting was difficult to decipher, but I could see that a short poem was scrawled on the page. I turned the pages again and again, finding poem after poem scrawled there. Some words were scribbled out, others written in such horrible writing, I couldn’t understand them. But they were love letters—about me.
My heart felt as if it might burst.
Skipping back to the front page, I read the first poem that Porter had written for me.
“That F*cking Purse”
She doesn’t know what she does to me
the way her hair tickles her forehead,
the innocence of her eyes.
She brings me back to darkness,
yet heals my broken heart.
She tempts me with her curves,
yet I’m afraid I’ll break her.
I’m too brash, too honest, too scarred.
Could she ever want me?
The skin of her wrist—
the softest I’ve ever felt—
the pleading of her eyes.
She reminds me of my home,
my hell,
my darkest hours.
And yet I can’t break free.
“This is beautiful.” My voice shook; I was overwhelmed at the depth of his feelings. That anyone could love me like this, even when I wasn’t yet his? It soothed my soul and satisfied my heart.
“The title could use some help.” Porter chuckled self-consciously.
“No,” I said, pressing the notebook to my chest. “It’s honest. And it’s perfect just the way it is.”
Porter gave me a half smile before pressing his lips to mine. “How did I get so lucky?” he asked, his expression so sincere. “You’re just . . . you make everything all right, Brin. Everything.”
My cheeks grew hot; I’d rarely received compliments. But I didn’t allow myself to clam up, to grow embarrassed, or hide my scarlet cheeks. Instead, I pressed my forehead to his and simply said, “Thank you.”