Redemption

Dirty would be an okay word to describe how I felt for the next couple of days since I slept my way to one thousand dollars. If I could think of a better word, something more intense than dirty then that would be perfect, but for now dirty could pretty well describe me. Guilt coursed through my veins as I paid that car payment with that money. Guilt for what I had done in making such a poor choice. It must have been guilt that drove me to that gym again on Saturday, the one I had been avoiding due to the creepy lady.

I had worked out for about an hour and a half, running on that treadmill faster than I had ever run before. Metaphorically speaking, I was running away from my life, but in reality I was just some girl running on a treadmill. Doesn’t life just sound so much better when you put things in the terms of metaphors?

While I was pondering over my new metaphor theory, I saw her. I assumed she came every day, working out for Jesus, or some crap like that. I was exiting my treadmill; she was coming to get on one. We exchanged glances and I tried to get my belongings as quickly as humanly possible. She initiated the conversation.

“Good afternoon.”

“Hello,” I said, avoiding eye contact.

“I haven’t seen you at church yet,” she said, taking a sip from her water bottle.

“Sorry, no time, too busy being a stripper and all,” I said smugly.

“We don’t judge,” she said, knowing that I was trying to let her know that church would just be a breeding ground of sly comments about my career path.

“Yes you do, you all do. You Christians that all think life is so dandy and nothing goes wrong, but I have had a real life and no one there would approve of me anyway,” I said, beginning to walk away.

“I hope you change your mind.”

That last sentence stuck in my head for the remainder of Saturday and every time I looked in the mirror I saw myself as dirty and began thinking of the church. Could it make me clean? Was there really someone out there that could forgive me? Was there really a God that could love me for who I am?

While working Saturday night I became a recluse, stuck in my own thoughts of church and God. Lacy tried to get me to tell her what I was thinking but I refused. She would only laugh. Lacy was an atheist, straight to the core. She didn’t hate God, because she never even thought He existed. I use to think He was there, but then He left me to suffer, and then I hated Him.

When the questions wouldn’t leave my head I made up my mind-I would go to church. I would go once, only tomorrow and if I got one dirty look I would walk away. And that’s how I ended up here, sitting in my car, staring at the large and beautiful church.

I had never been to a church, so I didn’t know what to wear, so I suck with a nice shirt and some jeans. As far as I knew I was wearing Satan attire, but after seeing a few others in jeans walking in I felt calmer. Calmer, not saying I was calm, but calmer than I had been when I first drove up to the church. I kept thinking of them kicking me out, mocking me, and judging me. I didn’t need that at a time like this. My head was still spinning from all the happened over the course of this week.

My legs shook as I exited the car and made my way into the church. The first step in was the hardest. I looked around and saw so many smiling faces-I hated them all. Why couldn’t I be smiling like them? I was always crying, always depressed, I was the reject from God’s kingdom and now here I was, standing in a church.

I got a few glances, a few whispers, but no one looked shocked. No one looked as if I had stripper stamped right on my forehead. They must have just been wondering who I was. For such a huge church it seemed like everyone knew everyone. This scared me, because they would want to know me.

Maybe I could just lie, say I was some secretary or something. No, lying in church must be some super sin and I wasn’t about to commit that. No matter how sinful I am, how damned I may be, I didn’t want to fall further down. No one would believe me if I told them that though, they would look at my past actions and determine that I just didn’t care. But I did, I do, I care so much that it hurts-I am just lost.

I walked around for a little while, trying not to look uncomfortable, but it must have been plastered all over my face.

“Need help?”

I turned to see a woman, a girl, who looked to be my age, maybe a year older. She had long blonde hair and vibrant brown eyes. For our eyes being the same color they looked so different, mine were dead while hers were alive. She wore a cute dress, short, but it didn’t look slutty on her-it looked cute. It was a sun dress, it may be late August but it was still warm enough to be wearing that summer dress.

“No,” I said quickly and she just smiled at me.

“Well you just looked a little confused, the service is being held right through those doors over there,” she pointed at large oak doors “Just in case you were wondering.” She then walked off, through the doors and left me feeling very self conscious. That was how a normal girl my age was suppose to look, but I looked different, I looked dead and like someone who had been through a lot. My life played on my face and everyone could see it.

I waited a minute or two, trying to make it seem like I never needed that girls help in the first place. Then I walked through those doors. I saw rows and rows of cushiony chairs, all of them almost full. There was a podium up on a carpeted stage and a smaller, yet still attached stage had band equipment on it. I stood there, looking around, feeling like an idiot. I had no idea what to do, no idea what this all was, but then my own personal Satan who was actually my angel came.

“I knew you would come,” she said as she walked up next to me, I ignored her. “My name is Linda by the way.”

“Not so nice to see you again, Linda,” I said as I glared at her.

“Say whatever you want to me now dear, but here you are, at church, so nothing can bring down my day now.”

I said nothing, I wanted to say I would leave but I was already here. I had forced myself here, I couldn’t just leave now.

“Come on, let’s go sit,” she paused, waiting for me to tell her my name.

“Mallory,” I said as she led me towards seats near the front.

“Linda!” a woman with curly hair said with a smile as she stood up and hugged this woman who had convinced me to come to church.

“How are the boys doing Denise?” Linda asked the woman.

“So busy, I mean they are always on the road! They just finished a mini radio tour that took a few weeks and now we are happy to be home. They are working more on their TV show and we are all just staying here in L.A. for a while before we plan another tour.”

The woman, Denise’s, words were lost and wasted on me. I had no idea what she was talking about, and I tried to figure something out but I was too worried about the wondering looks I was receiving to come up with anything good.

“And who is this?” Denise asked, looking at me.

“Mallory,” I answered softly, feeling shy as I looked at her bright smile.

“Nice to meet you,” she said and gave me a friendly hug. The last hug I got was from my whore mother, and this woman gave me a hug and almost made me break out into tears.

“Denise here is the mother of the three most talented boys I have ever met,” Linda said and Denise just rolled her eyes.

“When they learn to clean their room then they will be the most talented,” Denise joked but noticed that I didn’t laugh. “Well this is my husband Paul,” Denise said as she moved aside and I saw her husband who also had this glow about him.

“Nice to meet you,” he said and shook my hand as I nodded.

“These are my sons Nick, Kevin, and, where did your brother go?” Denise asked as two young men stood up. Nick seemed to be the youngest, Kevin older than me. Then I remembered one of them.

“Hello pet store girl,” Nick said with a smile and shook my hand. I tried my hardest to keep from flipping him off, but I did glare at him.

“You two have met?” Linda asked.

“Not really,” I said quickly.

“Lucky you then, not having to see this ugly face around too much,” Kevin joked as he shook my hand. Nick elbowed Kevin in the stomach and Denise quickly scolded them. They were brothers, family, joking, laughing, I felt like crying.

“I have another son, but he has, well run off I guess,” Denise said, looking at her boys as they simply shrugged.

“His name is Joe,” Linda said, looking at me and I believe that I stopped breathing for a minute.

There was no way. God didn’t hate me that much to make a man that I had grinded on, stripped for, be in this church and the son of the woman I was now sitting next to, no way.

The look he gave me made me want to die. I hid my face, but he saw me. God hated me, if my life couldn’t get any more complicated, as soon as the service started Joe walked back to his seat. He saw me, yes, this was the same Joe that was at the strip club that one night. His mother quietly introduced us, we didn’t shake hands.

We glanced at each other throughout the whole service. My first church experience had turned out to be a living hell. I heard nothing that the preacher said and all I thought about was how fucked up this whole situation was.

The service ended before I had even realized that it started. I was standing up, Joe’s brown eyes watching me.

“Will you be back next Sunday?” Denise asked but I didn’t answer her. I walked away, from her, from Linda, from it all. In theory I was walking away from God. I came, I paid my dues, and I realized that it wasn’t for me.

“Is she okay?” I heard either Nick or Kevin ask.

“No,” I heard Linda say and I tried to walk away even faster. If she told them what I was I would hate her, utterly hate her. I already didn’t like her, but if she dare make me out to seem like some poor stripper who just needed God-I would hate her.

I pushed past all the people, out into the fresh air. The sun was out today, a few white puffy clouds in the sky. I stood there, closed my eyes and breathed. People walked past me, I could feel their bodies occasionally brush up against mine. When I opened my eyes I saw the girl from before, walking with her mother, her beautiful normal mother. Then I looked to my right and I saw Joe.

“Leave me alone,” I said quickly, softly, and before Joe could say anything I walked off, not looking behind me.