Beautiful Abomination Read online

  “Sorry?” he echoed in disbelief. How was he going to convince Patsy to move home if he couldn’t pay her University fees? He’d worked hard to be a good father, a good person, but he’d driven her out of home by being overprotective.

  Gary walked back to his desk feeling all eyes on him. He didn’t bother to sit down or even turn off the computer. He collected his jacket and walked out.

  Was it too early for a beer?

  Gary wanted to slam his car into the wall under the sign that said CFO. It wasn't his sign or his title. It never had been. He was a pretender in Bob’s carpark and now he'd been fired. Fired.

  The Politically Correct term was something like downsized or restructured, he didn’t bloody know, but it amounted to the same thing. He was fired. He was out of a job. He was humiliated.

  Sitting in his car in his boss's—ex-boss's—car park was hopeless. His daughter had abandoned him. He barely spoke to his wife; she held him at arm’s length. At least at his job he knew where he stood, he’d known where he stood. He was the second in command who did all the actual work. He showed those wet-eared little boys how to play in the real world. They came fresh out of university with no practical skills. He taught them everything they knew. OK so their certification training helped too, but he was the one that held their hands.

  He’d given his life to the company and this was the thanks he got. They’d suffer without him.

  He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and wondered how early bars opened these days.

  4

  10 October 1991

  “‘And Ruth said, ‘Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.’ I want you to compare this to ‘And if I give all my possessions to feed the poor, and if I surrender my body to be burned, but do not have love, it profits me nothing. Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant’. I’ve put the references on the board.” The teacher indicated the board behind her like Lana Coc-Kroft on Wheel of Fortune, students stifled laughter. “Along with some questions I want you to consider.”

  Josie copied the questions into her book as the teacher read them out loud.

  Where in the Bible do these passages appear?

  Who wrote them and who was the intended audience?

  What is the message or lesson of each passage? What is the author trying to teach us?

  How do these messages coincide or differ?

  “Any questions?” The teacher scanned the room.

  Kelly Ferguson, who was in Josie’s history class, raised her hand. “Miss, my cousin had that one about love at her wedding.”

  “It is the passage most commonly used at weddings. Because it talks about love, and weddings are all about love.”

  “I want that at my wedding,” Kelly said and several heads nodded around the classroom.

  “No other questions?” Mrs Pearson paused. “You’ve got twenty minutes then we’re going to discuss your answers.”

  Josie picked up her Bible and checked the index. The first piece was from the Old Testament and the second was from the New. Was that all the teacher wanted to know? They’d had a discussion a few weeks ago about how God was characterised differently in the two sections of the Bible, that might be relevant. She noted:

  1. Ruth - Old Testament - vengeful / jealous God.

  Corinthians - New Testament - loving / forgiving God.

  The next question was more difficult. At least the second piece was easy enough, it was all in the name First Letter of St Paul to the Corinthians.

  2.

  St Paul - The Corinthians

  “Josie.” Pat’s shoulder touched hers. “You want to learn about love?” She could feel the words soft against her skin.

  Josie turned her head a quarter of the way towards Pat, her eyes seeking the teacher at the front of her room. Mrs Pearson was marking papers at her desk.

  Tilting her head towards Pat she asked, “What do you have in mind?”

  Pat’s leg nudged hers beneath the table and she gasped. She could feel the length of Pat’s leg against hers through their thick skirts.

  When Josie looked down Pat was sliding an open book into her lap.

  “Read that.”

  Josie’s eyes widened as she read. The words painted a scene in her mind; a man and a woman, his mouth travelling down her naked body. It had a strange effect on her, how she felt sometimes curled in Pat’s bed, a little breathless and overheated.

  She felt her face redden and glanced around the room to make sure no one had noticed. It felt as though everyone must know but they were bent over their desks, hair sweeping their papers, writing or flicking through the Bible. The Bible! How different from what she was reading.

  Her mother would have a fit if she knew. She already didn’t approve of Pat; “Boys names are for boys. Your name is Josie, not Jo.”

  The girls at the table behind her were whispering.

  “Love is shared. If it’s real you both feel it. If one of you doesn’t feel it then it’s just obsession,” one said.

  “That is so deep,” the other girl replied.

  Josie closed the book and continued with the exercise.

  “What was the point of all that?” Pat asked as they left the classroom.

  “Point of what?”

  “That.” She pointed back towards the room they’d just left. “That whole class was a waste of time.”

  “I kinda liked it. It’s about love, Pat, and God. If you replace ‘love’ with ‘God’ in the Corinthians passage... God is patient, God is kind. God is love. And Ruth is embodying God. God is faithful, devoted, will never leave us.”

  Pat smirked. “You actually believe that?”

  “Yeah, don’t you?”

  “I don’t believe in God, Josie.”

  She couldn’t breathe for a moment. They kept walking while she tried, and failed, to digest this.

  Turning to an easier topic she confronted Pat. “I can’t believe you made me read that. We were in the middle of religion!” She swatted Pat’s arm.

  “So? There’s sex in the Bible too.” Josie refused to believe it till Pat dragged her to the library and showed her.

  “Is this like the time you tried to convince me there were dragons in the Bible?” she asked as Pat flicked through the book.

  “There are dragons in the bible,” Pat answered and pointed at a passage. “There, read that.”

  It was a story about a woman who was widowed. Her brother-in-law slept with her, to fulfil his brother’s duties, but he let his semen fall on the floor (ew) so God killed him. Then she disguised herself as a prostitute so her father-in-law would sleep with her (who would want someone who slept with prostitutes?) and she became pregnant (to her father-in-law, double-ew).

  Reading about sex and messed up semi-incest in what she’d thought was a sacred book made her feel sick. Sick and somehow betrayed.

  “And this has always been here?” Her voice was shaky. Stupid question.

  Pat nodded. “In the very first book.”

  “I had no idea...” Josie’s voice trailed off.

  “Man, I can’t wait for next year.” Pat took the Bible off her and snapped it shut. “Then I am out of here, this school, this town. Religion is such a waste of time. I have an assignment I could have been doing in that hour.” She slid the book back onto the shelf.

  “You could have done your assignment rather than reading...” Josie stumbled, realising Pat was planning to leave. It wasn’t something they’d talked about before, “... that ... thing you gave me to read. What was that?”

  “A romance novel.” Pat pulled the book out of her backpack and waved it. On the cover was an image of a man in an open flowing shirt, his chest and stomach exposed, muscles gleaming. A woman with cascades of dark curly hair clutched his shoulder and gazed adoringly at him. “Do you want to borrow it when I
’m done?”

  “I—” She’d have to hide it from her mother, but considering what she’d just read in the Bible it couldn't be that bad. “Maybe?”

  5

  15 February 2011

  On the bus ride home Josie couldn’t concentrate on her book. She hoped that David’s girlfriend what’s-her-name ended up bloated, huge...unrecognisable. She stopped short of wishing her a difficult pregnancy.

  With everything going on she should be grateful her house had power and running water; that she was still able to work. The constant aftershocks frayed her nerves but life was bearable. The news had reported more births than normal the day of the big quake. Being pregnant was stressful enough; she couldn’t fathom why David's girlfriend would choose to do it in an already stressful situation.

  The women in her books always seemed to get pregnant and then the guy married them. Would David marry his girlfriend? She’d thought their relationship wasn’t serious because they weren’t married, but having a child was serious. He might marry her now.

  The heroine in her book was annoying her. There was no real reason she and the hero were apart, it was a simple misunderstanding that if they just talked to each other... Josie had the perverse urge to reach into the book and shake her till she saw sense.

  Two women in their twenties walked down the aisle and took the seat behind Josie. They resumed their conversation.

  “He’s got a small dick.”

  “Better than a limp dick.”

  Josie stifled a gasp.

  “True. I told him.”

  “You did not.”

  “Don’t worry, I followed it up with ‘but you know exactly what to do with it’.”

  “Such a lie.”

  “Totally a lie. I mean if he knew what to do with it why would I even mention it was small?”

  All the men in romance novels were well endowed and very skilled. Josie had limited experience to compare them to. She wondered what David’s looked like and pushed the thought away. She’d seen his bare chest once and thought about that more than she should.

  “You gonna keep him around?”

  “I guess so. I mean, crap sex is better than no sex.”

  “I hear you.”

  Josie couldn't believe it, people discussing that sort of thing so openly, where anyone could hear them. Kate occasionally mentioned some of her exploits but never so flippantly.

  The same woman spoke again, “But he’s not a keeper?”

  “I wouldn’t have said it if he was.” She snorted. “Bruise his precious male ego? I don’t want to have to deal with that shit.”

  There was a pause. Josie tilted her head ever so slightly. Was the conversation over?

  “You know if you actually give a crap about the guy size doesn’t matter.”

  “Really? That’s not a position I’ve ever been in.”

  “You should try it sometime.”

  “Might as well. I’ve tried every other position, right?” The two women laughed.

  THE WICKED LORD DARLING smiled down at her and she felt her breath catch in her throat.

  “Why Miss Verity you must know how I long to call you Verity, darling.” He caught her hand in his and raised it to his lips.

  Verity knew she should pull away but instead she felt the strangest urge to step closer, to press her body against the hard length of his. Was that a proposal?

  His lips lingered above the skin of her ungloved hand. She could feel each breath he took. Why didn’t he kiss her? The suspense was agony.

  Lord Darling’s gaze flicked from her hand to hold her eyes. One corner of his mouth turned up as though he could read her thoughts.

  She knew she shouldn’t allow him such liberties. Meeting alone was scandalous enough but allowing his mouth so close to her uncovered virgin skin was surely sinful.

  “M—my Lord, this is most improper,” she gasped out, her other hand pressed to her chest to slow the pounding of her heart. She had no idea the picture she presented, her breasts rising and falling with her laboured breath.

  He arched one eyebrow. “I would never want to put you in a compromising position Miss Verity.” His words whispered across her skin. “Unless you want me to.”

  Verity knew she should step back, she should tell him to stop, but she couldn’t. Lord Darling raised his head and began to drop her hand. She whimpered in protest. His eyes widened in surprise and he gripped her hand tighter. Lord Darling tugged her towards him till her body was flush with his.

  “Do you want me to?” he asked, gazing down at her.

  She had never been this close to a man before. She could not speak.

  Ever so slowly his face descended towards hers. Their eyes met. Then she surrendered, her eyes fluttered closed.

  David’s face. David’s eyes. David’s mouth.

  Josie’s eyes flew open, she threw the book across the room and buried her face in her hands. Ensconced on her couch she had finally been able to focus on reading till David had invaded her book. She drummed her heels and gave a scream of frustration.

  Why was this happening to her? Why did she feel this way? Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? Her mind flicked back to the conversation she’d overheard on the bus and started to wonder other things, things she wasn’t willing to admit to herself she was wondering about.

  She’d been in his arms yesterday but it seemed like a lifetime ago. That conversation had changed everything. Unlike Verity she couldn’t be compromised by hugging a man, but her heart could.

  “No. No. I’m not going to do this.” Josie swallowed her tears and stood to cross the room. She picked up her discarded book and patted the cover.

  It wasn’t the books’ fault her heroes looked like David. Lord so-and-so a little around the eyes; the Duke had hair the exact same shade; and of course, all of them had his accent. If she was honest with herself, he’d been the hero in her novels for a long time. He wasn’t classically handsome, cute, or even necessarily good looking, but he had a charm about him. That accent and the way he played the gentleman, when David smiled at her she felt slightly tipsy.

  But it was disloyal to Gary. He’d never had such an effect on her, even though he was her husband...and it was inappropriate to think of another man like that.

  6

  She awoke disoriented, as usual. Her mind swirled, trying to catch the tail end of her dreams; she was falling.

  Everything looked grey. She panicked that her ability to see colour was lost. She blinked and the colour came back. The bed was solid beneath her.

  Her head felt like it was trapped in a vice, consumed by a dark snarl of thoughts.

  Everything was closing in on her. Why couldn’t she breathe? The blankets were too restricting. She threw them off. The ceiling pressed down from above. Trapped. Trapped. She would be found. She would be captured.

  The panic happened more often than she was willing to admit. Then something would take over, she would black out, and somehow magically come back to this strange body that was her but wasn’t. She never knew how much time passed. Sometimes it was like a dream, she had no control and things would happen that she didn’t understand.

  Headlamps through the gap in the curtains made her squint, distracting her.

  She sat up and pressed her hands against the cold glass. The world on the other side whispered to her. She would head down, move silently through the abandoned streets, past closed up houses with people trapped inside.

  The weird dreams were coming again which meant the loss of control would come soon. She needed to feed. The hunger brought strange thoughts but blood brought peace, control. In the blissful moment of feeding she was confident, she had no need to hide, she didn’t fear discovery.

  The heartbeats of her prey called to her like the steady pounding of a drum summoning warriors to battle.

  She slid out of bed. It was time to eat.

  7

  16 February 2011

  After another day of avoiding David, and trying to av
oid thoughts of him, Josie was exhausted and strung out. She wished Patricia were there to talk to. Even Gary would have been a welcome distraction though she wasn’t sure if she could handle the guilt, looking at him and knowing how she felt about David.

  When she was younger she’d prayed when she was upset. It was a habit she learnt from her mother. Feeling the rosary beads beneath her fingers had soothed her.

  When she moved in with Gary she’d put her mother’s string of rosary beads into an old biscuit tin filled with photographs and documents, the only things Josie still possessed of her mother. She had always intended to look through the tin when her mother died but initially it was too raw, then several short months later she was pregnant and married. It was pushed to the back of her mind and the depths of Gary’s wardrobe.

  Josie delved into the cupboard. On her tippy-toes she found the tin at the back of the shelf. She pulled it out from under discarded woollen jerseys and shoved them towards the wall.

  The lid opened with a clang. She pulled the rosary beads out and papers followed, littering the floor. With a sigh, Josie settled herself amongst the shoes to gather them. No time like the present to have a look, it’s not like they could make her feel worse.

  She unfolded a document—it was her birth certificate, but there was something wrong with it. How had she never seen it before? Maybe it was time she started managing things for herself rather than allowing others to look after her. Her mother had filled out the application for her driver's license and Gary had filled out their wedding paperwork. It seemed pathetic to be almost 40 and have never left the country, but she hadn’t, so she’d never needed a passport.

  There was no entry under father. How could this be?

  The paper shook in her hand. Josie instinctively braced her hand against the wall but it wasn’t another earthquake.

  Her eyes travelled up the document. As she looked at the entry under 'mother,' her chest constricted: it was her own name.