Untypically in Love: Clean Slate
Read the full story, chapter by chapter here.
Some names and events have been changed to protect the identity of certain individuals.
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Chapter Twenty-Three
Clean Slate
Chapter Twenty-Three
Clean Slate
I was ready to start everything over. A new year, a new life.
After a lot of prayer, and encouragement from my mother through a dream one night, I was certain - I was going to be baptised. Most of my friends were not pleased, but our paths had been separating for a while now. Priorities had changed, and other people were influencing lives. I hadn't spoken to Megaera for what felt like months. My family didn't seem to care much one way or another about my new religion, aside from my older sister of course. This decision was my own. This new life was going to be lived by only me after all.
A lot of people from the ward came. Mostly people I knew, but others had come to welcome me. Despite making several friends in the Church, I wasn't close with many of the girls. I was close to Matt, so in turn, I knew the boys better. The boys in fact had planned to take us out following my baptism. Toilet papering houses - a right of passage for any Mormon youth. It wasn't only allowed, but encouraged by most of the adults, so long as no real damage was inflicted by the use of eggs or paint. It was just toilet paper after all.
I immediately asked my fellow Church goers to avoid my house. My family would not be so amused.
I rushed home from work, having picked up a part time job at a local Chinese restaurant. The place was busier than ever, being a Friday, but I had informed my manager than I could only stay until five o'clock because I had somewhere else to be that was more important. They agreed and let me go home early. I ran the whole way back to my house where I showered and dug through my closet looking for something appropriate to wear.
I still lacked a lot of church clothes. Three long flower printed skirts and two dresses, one of which was long and black and had only been worn once, at my Grandmothers funeral. I snagged one of the skirts from the hanger, nearly breaking it in the process, leaving a wrecking yard behind me as I struggled to prepare as quickly as possible.
I had wanted to curl my hair, but was told it would be pointless seeing that it was going to get wet. To prepare for this night, one of the girls from my seminary class taught me how to french braid my own hair.
"You're still coming right?" I asked Kristine as I packed a hair brush and an extra hair tie in my purse, just in case.
"Yeah, we'll be there at seven." She agreed just as the car horn from Matt's parents van honked from the driveway.
When we arrived at the Church I had a few meetings left. Missionaries and leaders spoke with me to make sure I was indeed ready for the decision I had made. I knew I was ready. I had been ready for months. It took the death of a loved one to remind me the importance of how what we do on earth really matters.
As I walked past the closed doors in the cultural hall, I could hear the music playing. I was lead to the bathroom to change into a baptismal outfit. I looked down at my white clothes and immediately began to panic. I was reminded of the summer parties at Megaera's house where the boys would splash us from the pool in hopes of starting a wet t-shirt contest. I double checked the fabric, holding it up to the light as I tried to see how see-through the material was. Matt's mother assured me that I would be fine.
A door opened and I was lead down into the water, which thankfully was luke warm despite it being January. I turned my head and looked out to the large group of friends, family, and strangers that had gathered to welcome me into the fold. My nerves were getting the best of me. I couldn't stop wondering what they were thinking. Did they even really want me there? Had they come because it was just expected?
And then I saw Matt, sitting in the front row beside his family. My family.
And he smiled at me.
A prayer was spoken, and I took a deep breath. The bishop tipped me back and I slipped beneath the water. I wanted to remember this moment. I wanted to concentrate. I wanted to feel my new clean slate. I wanted to literally, physically feel the sins wash away from me as I was granted a fresh start at life.
I was lifted back up out of the water and I smiled joyfully. That is, until my foot slipped and I fell back into the baptismal font with a large splash. We later joked that God said, "You know what? Let's dunk her twice, just to be sure."
The following Sunday I stood in front of the whole congregation as the Bishop introduced me as the newest member of the ward.
"All those who can welcome Jia," He said with a smile. "Please do so with the uplifted hand."
And every hand rose.
I was a part of something.
After a typical Sunday Church service followed by a typical Sunday dinner with Matt's family, I returned home, happier than I had been since before my Grandmother died over two months earlier. The days that followed were just as happy. I was getting along with my family. I was doing well in Church and school. And I was looking forward to the Winter Ball just two weeks away. Kristine was a freshman at my high school now, and we'd both planned to go shopping the following afternoon when we got out of school.
And then I thought about Megaera. Megaera who had been my best friend for a whole year before all these changes in our lives took place. I knew she would be going to the Winter Ball as well, and a part of me wanted to call her and see if she wanted to go shopping with Kristine and I. But it was late. Too late to call.
When I woke the following morning to get ready for early morning seminary, I went about things as normal. I picked out my clothes, I shoved my homework into my backpack, and I turned on the television as I sat on my bed and braided my hair.
Something on the screen caught my attention.
" . . . . the names of the victims have not been released."
I turned the volume up as a familiar vision appeared on the news. An area of town I knew very well. On the screen footage was shown of a car wreck. Comments like 'suspected of being under the influence', and words such as 'alcohol,' and 'drugs' were thrown around.
" . . . . crossed the intersection and drove head on into the car, killing a fifteen year old Rio Rancho High School student . . ."
No names were given. No clues to the identity of a girl my age, killed the night before.
A lot of people from the ward came. Mostly people I knew, but others had come to welcome me. Despite making several friends in the Church, I wasn't close with many of the girls. I was close to Matt, so in turn, I knew the boys better. The boys in fact had planned to take us out following my baptism. Toilet papering houses - a right of passage for any Mormon youth. It wasn't only allowed, but encouraged by most of the adults, so long as no real damage was inflicted by the use of eggs or paint. It was just toilet paper after all.
I immediately asked my fellow Church goers to avoid my house. My family would not be so amused.
I rushed home from work, having picked up a part time job at a local Chinese restaurant. The place was busier than ever, being a Friday, but I had informed my manager than I could only stay until five o'clock because I had somewhere else to be that was more important. They agreed and let me go home early. I ran the whole way back to my house where I showered and dug through my closet looking for something appropriate to wear.
I still lacked a lot of church clothes. Three long flower printed skirts and two dresses, one of which was long and black and had only been worn once, at my Grandmothers funeral. I snagged one of the skirts from the hanger, nearly breaking it in the process, leaving a wrecking yard behind me as I struggled to prepare as quickly as possible.
I had wanted to curl my hair, but was told it would be pointless seeing that it was going to get wet. To prepare for this night, one of the girls from my seminary class taught me how to french braid my own hair.
"You're still coming right?" I asked Kristine as I packed a hair brush and an extra hair tie in my purse, just in case.
"Yeah, we'll be there at seven." She agreed just as the car horn from Matt's parents van honked from the driveway.
When we arrived at the Church I had a few meetings left. Missionaries and leaders spoke with me to make sure I was indeed ready for the decision I had made. I knew I was ready. I had been ready for months. It took the death of a loved one to remind me the importance of how what we do on earth really matters.
As I walked past the closed doors in the cultural hall, I could hear the music playing. I was lead to the bathroom to change into a baptismal outfit. I looked down at my white clothes and immediately began to panic. I was reminded of the summer parties at Megaera's house where the boys would splash us from the pool in hopes of starting a wet t-shirt contest. I double checked the fabric, holding it up to the light as I tried to see how see-through the material was. Matt's mother assured me that I would be fine.
A door opened and I was lead down into the water, which thankfully was luke warm despite it being January. I turned my head and looked out to the large group of friends, family, and strangers that had gathered to welcome me into the fold. My nerves were getting the best of me. I couldn't stop wondering what they were thinking. Did they even really want me there? Had they come because it was just expected?
And then I saw Matt, sitting in the front row beside his family. My family.
And he smiled at me.
A prayer was spoken, and I took a deep breath. The bishop tipped me back and I slipped beneath the water. I wanted to remember this moment. I wanted to concentrate. I wanted to feel my new clean slate. I wanted to literally, physically feel the sins wash away from me as I was granted a fresh start at life.
I was lifted back up out of the water and I smiled joyfully. That is, until my foot slipped and I fell back into the baptismal font with a large splash. We later joked that God said, "You know what? Let's dunk her twice, just to be sure."
The following Sunday I stood in front of the whole congregation as the Bishop introduced me as the newest member of the ward.
"All those who can welcome Jia," He said with a smile. "Please do so with the uplifted hand."
And every hand rose.
I was a part of something.
After a typical Sunday Church service followed by a typical Sunday dinner with Matt's family, I returned home, happier than I had been since before my Grandmother died over two months earlier. The days that followed were just as happy. I was getting along with my family. I was doing well in Church and school. And I was looking forward to the Winter Ball just two weeks away. Kristine was a freshman at my high school now, and we'd both planned to go shopping the following afternoon when we got out of school.
And then I thought about Megaera. Megaera who had been my best friend for a whole year before all these changes in our lives took place. I knew she would be going to the Winter Ball as well, and a part of me wanted to call her and see if she wanted to go shopping with Kristine and I. But it was late. Too late to call.
When I woke the following morning to get ready for early morning seminary, I went about things as normal. I picked out my clothes, I shoved my homework into my backpack, and I turned on the television as I sat on my bed and braided my hair.
Something on the screen caught my attention.
" . . . . the names of the victims have not been released."
I turned the volume up as a familiar vision appeared on the news. An area of town I knew very well. On the screen footage was shown of a car wreck. Comments like 'suspected of being under the influence', and words such as 'alcohol,' and 'drugs' were thrown around.
" . . . . crossed the intersection and drove head on into the car, killing a fifteen year old Rio Rancho High School student . . ."
No names were given. No clues to the identity of a girl my age, killed the night before.
