TRAPPED BY THE ORDER -SHORT FICTION

Have you ever had to crawl back to someone and beg for forgiveness even though they were in the wrong? How did that make you feel? Lesly does more than grovel for penitence in “Trapped by the Order”.

I looked at the figure on the computer screen, shrouded with a black robe over his face. “There has to be another way, an out that would allow me to reject this whole form of slavery,” I thought.

“I do.” His voice came out rough as if his vocal cords were made of sandpaper. I had expected a softer, gentler voice, not one that sounded like the snarl of a rottweiler. My hands rubbed together under my robe as my breath caught in my chest, unable to exhale.

Was this really happening?

Was this really my husband?

My throat tightened, and a dryness moved in my mouth as if my tongue had shriveled into leather. What type of man would that husband be? What did his face look like under the black cloth? He probably didn’t wonder about me. All men from the order were interested in one thing.

“Please,” I had asked my parents a couple of weeks ago. I couldn’t believe it had come to me begging for their help. When I had left their home four years earlier, I had vowed never to return, to separate myself from their tyrant ways forever.

I could have done it to-to keep a distance from them, but I hadn’t predicted Covid. I had spent a year setting up my new coffee shop. The worst luck happened when my opening landed on the same day the city shut everyone down for the pandemic.

Stupid Covid.

My parents tagged me on my social media page a week before my grand opening. Hadn’t the order forbidden social media?

“Coffee is of the devil. If you go through with this, you are dead to us. Dead to the community.”

There is no love like Christian love. You gave your very soul to the order, or they shunned and humiliated you in any way they could. Shouldn’t they be supporting me? Shouldn’t they be rooting for me? I knew they wanted me to fail. Secretly, they hoped I would crawl back on my stomach, begging for their assistance and forgiveness. They wanted me to return to the fold, where my father was next in line as Grand Counselor.

“Lesly,” I heard my father say in his disappointed tone, bringing me back to my virtual wedding. I looked at the lump of black cloth on the screen that was about to be my husband. It didn’t have to happen like this. I could say no. I could turn the computer off. I had spent my life dreaming of escaping the clan, and here I was, ready to unite myself with an unseen husband. -to seal our marriage under the reign of the community. -the unholy order.

“Lesly, “Father growled.

My hate for Father intensified, compiling a lifetime of disappointment and abuse. My inner self pleaded for me to turn off the computer and run. But where would I run to? I had nothing left. The pandemic had stolen everything from me, ripped it away without mercy.

“Yes,” I mumbled as the heavy tears weighed down my lower eyelids and spilled onto my face. No one was there to wipe them away, put an arm around me, or comfort me. I was alone in the reserved library room, uniting myself to Kevin Shaw, my new husband, and signing my life away to the order.

Shaw had to be ecstatic. Father was the first advisor to the Grand Counselor. That made me a top-prize wife. Shaw probably had no idea how hideous my face looked since the order didn’t believe in photography. Father wouldn’t have shown him what I looked like. I couldn’t remember who Shaw was. Could he be that sixty-five-year-old prune? The order had only recently allowed computers for virtual communication during the pandemic, but they put heavy filters on every member’s hard drive. Heaven forbid a member caught a small glimpse of the real world.

My taste for life outside the order came through my savior, Jared Marshell, at the tender age of four. One day, after Father had lashed me with his tongue, I had run into the forest and crossed the marshy stream, a place that Father never seemed to go. I had to get away from the monster I called Father.

The earthy smell of the mud stirred up as I splashed through the water. As I ran, I came across a giant oak with a treehouse. I had never seen anything so inviting, so magical as that.

“This is my tree house. You want to play house and be my wife?” Jared had said. This sweet boy looked down from the house with his huge, crooked smile and huge buck teeth, a smile I would learn to adore and love.

Jared was two years older than me, and he introduced me to the world. He had shiny things like toy cars, skates, and bikes. He always brought forbidden food to the treehouse, food that came in crinkly bags and had ingredients that couldn’t be pronounced. Jared and his family dressed so differently than our clan did. I always had a dress that scraped the floor, while Jared’s mom never once wore a dress. Jared always wore shorts, unlike the men in the clan, who wore stiff pants to their ankles. Every single thing about Jared intrigued me.

My parents would have beaten me into submission and locked me in the basement if they had known about Jared. But luckily, Father hadn’t crossed the marshy stream. And I was wise enough never to mention Jared or his world to my parents.

“By the power in me by God and the order, I seal you as husband and wife.”

I looked at the computer through my black cloth. Everything in me incinerated: my life, hope, freedom, my will. All gone by father’s pronouncement. My mouth dropped open, and my warm, acidic breath trapped in the cloth.

I had spent my whole life trying to separate myself from the community, only now to seal myself eternally to them. I collapsed, and my new husband and father didn’t seem to care.

“We will send transportation for you in a week. As you will recall from your youth, this is holy week, where members pilgrimage home. We have no one available to get you. As promised, I have reserved a room for you in a member’s house in the city, where you will stay until we pick you up.”

I pulled myself into a sitting position on the floor. I could feel the silence that followed his words; they weighed my shoulders down like giant rocks, and I slumped forward.

“Do you still have their address?”

I pulled the paper with the address out of my pocket and crumpled it between my fingers. I didn’t want to stay at this member’s home. They would judge me in my worldly, homeless attire. Plus, once I entered, I would never leave the order again.

“I always knew you would come back. Too bad you had to cause so much havoc and destruction before you left. I do not know if God will select your soul for eternal glory, but at least you will find temporary salvation for the rest of your years on earth.”

No congratulations. No welcome home. No, “We missed you.” Just pure indoctrination nonsense shoved down my throat. My finger rubbed into the stiff carpet as my world collapsed.

“Carpet. The order doesn’t even believe in carpet.” I whispered.

“Now you will find,” Father continued to rattle on, but his voice made me physically sick. I bent over the trash can and loudly puked the meal from the soup kitchen. I peered at the computer to see Father’s reaction. He tightened his eyebrows, so I knew he saw me puke, but once again, he had no compassion for me.

“...that’s when you will know.”

I reached up to the computer and shut it off.

I lay on the floor for three hours until a library worker knocked on the door.

“You have only reserved the room for two hours. You need to gather your things and leave.”

I didn’t have anything to gather. I had lost almost everything I owned from bankruptcy. I would have made it if it hadn’t been for Covid.

Covid had stolen everything from me, and now my freedom. I curled up with my back against the wall. The only place to go from here was purgatory, and I wasn’t ready.

I took the black marriage cloth off my face and threw it in the corner of my reserved private room. The place smelt horrible from my puking and my unbathed body. What did I care? Maybe I would never bathe my body again. My husband would not receive a clean body when he consummated our marriage.

The very thought made me puke one more time.

I left the library and turned north for my eight-mile walk to the member’s house. I didn’t want to go there, but I also didn’t want to return to the homeless shelter. A nasty cough spread through the shelter like fire, and I felt fortunate I hadn’t caught it yet.

“Lesly Winger,” I heard a deep voice call after me. I figured the librarian was calling me back to clean up the room. I ignored them and kept walking.

“Lesly Winger, please tell me that you still remember me.”

I turned and stumbled when I saw him.

Jared Marshall.

My life-long best friend.

“Jared,” I said as we threw ourselves into each other’s arms. I would have hugged him longer, but my smell hit me. I pulled away, hoping he wouldn’t smell my breath as well.

“What’s with the distance?” He noticed right away.

I shrugged.

Jared looked amazing. It had been over four years since I had seen him. He had only gotten more handsome as he stood in his tailored suit and clean shave. He probably saw me for the stinky homeless woman I had become.

Although I was happy to see him, I felt shame for him seeing me.

“Hey, what happened to your coffee shop? I just moved to the city and can’t find it.”

I looked down at my feet. “I lost it during the pandemic.” I zipped my jacket up, hoping to trap in my odor.

“That’s horrible,” he said, stepping towards me.

“Yeah.”

He stepped closer, and my core heated, which intensified my smell. I stepped back.

“You know, I have missed you terribly. You were the best part of my childhood.”

My arms wrapped tightly behind my back. “How can you say that? I had nothing to offer you.”

I thought about all the toys he shared and all his food we ate. Even his space we occupied. I had offered nothing to the friendship.

“You gave your friendship. It was the greatest gift from life.” His eyes almost looked wet, as if the emotions were playing out in them. I felt my eyes wet as well.

“Listen, it would mean the world to me if we got reacquainted.” He stepped toward me again.

I moved the wadded paper with the member’s address from hand to hand.

“Yeah, we could get coffee or something. That would be fun,” I said. Maybe we could meet in a few hours, giving me time to shower and wash my clothes in the sink.

Jared put his hand on my back. “I would like more than coffee,” he said. My skin tingled. My lips went numb.

I opened my hand and looked at the address where I was to live for a week until the order picked me up. There would be a shower there. Probably some dry rye bread waiting for me. It would be safe. I wouldn’t have to sleep at the shelter on a thin mat on the floor next to a man covered in bed bugs who would cough all over me. It was solid and sure. Yet, once I was there, I would never leave the order.

Ever.

“I would like that,” I said, throwing the crumpled paper into the garbage.

My time with Jared may last a lifetime. Perhaps it will only be a couple of hours.

The thing I knew for sure was I was not going to lose my life to my new husband under the black cloak, nor to my father or the order.

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