Shannon’s Reviews > The Chosen One > Status Update

I remember holding Laura. Mother's telling me the story keeps the memory alive, like it is my own. Mother sat near us, helping me support this new baby's head. Someone snapped a picture of us, the three of us together.
"Isn't she beautiful?" my mother said.
"No," I said.
And Laura wasn't. Her face was red and squishy. Her hands curled up into fists. When she opened her eyes, there was no color at all.

I've seen women screaming at each other. Fighting over their husband.
Father told us all that evening those three women were beaten.
I couldn't help but wonder about the little red-headed wife. Not more than fifteen. Those other two women pulling on her, slapping at her. Because she was prettiest, I bet. And thin still. Not chubby like the others, though I could see the shape of her belly growing.

"Just because I'm younger, she's angry with me," Mother had said.
"It's jealousy," Mother Claire said. "None of us can help but feel it. Sharing a man the way we do."
"She gets nasty sometimes," Mother Sarah said.
There was quiet in the trailer for a minute. Then Mother Claire said, "Follow the Prophet, Sarah. We give up things now for a life in the hereafter that will be better."

In one month, I'm gone.
The fabric, this morning.
The date, tonight.
All the days will fly past.
Down the rutted road toward civilization we all go, me listening to their laughter, headed to the things that will help me start a new life I do not want.
I will be a seventh wife.

"We have to have her home in time for dinner with Brother Hyrum."
Oh, the date tonight. That date. Wasn't last night enough? Fear and anger, both, seem to fill me.
"Hell," Margaret says. "Helly hell hell." Then she throws her arms around my neck in a tight squeeze. I can smell her face, sort of sweet like sugar. Then she hurries into the kitchen and I keep standing where everyone has left me.

"What do we need material for?" I say.
"For a wedding dress," she says, her words clipped short.
"We'll go at lunch," Mother Victoria says. "The fabric store first. And then lunch at Applebee's. I haven't been there in a year. How does that sound?"

The mention of Applebee's reminds me that this story takes place in the present time. It's hard to remember that with how these people behave.

I clutch Mariah to me. Her crying is just gasps now. She kicks, trying to catch air. "Father," I say. "She can't breathe." I pull her cold body to mine. Slap her little back. She's like a chicken taken from the fridge.
"Father?" It feels like I can't breathe either. I give Mariah a small shake. "Mariah?"
Father pulls Mariah from my hands. Her lips are dark blue, like the sky before the sun sets.

Mother Claire covers Mariah's nose and mouth tight so there's no leak. Then she dunks Mariah in the cold water bath. All the way under. Holds her there.
Holds her there.
Mariah kicks. That baby struggles.
"Stop!" My voice is a shout. I grab at Mother Claire. Father pulls me back.
"Lift her," Uncle Hyrum says. I hate him. Right now, I hate him.

"Where is the baby from last night? Screaming like that," Uncle Hyrum says. "And in front of the Prophet. It was too much, Richard. Too much."
"She's not even a year old," Mother Sarah says.
Uncle Hyrum looks at my mother like he could slap her. "Don't speak, Sister Sarah, unless I've spoken to you first."
Mother says nothing. Looks away from my uncle.
"Get the baby, Sister Kyra."

: ( This can't be good

One late afternoon I read three Dr. Seuss books from the Ironton County Mobile Library on Wheels while sitting on the gritty floor of the van. It's like I'm thirsty and can't get enough to drink. I pulled Hop on Pop from the shelf and remembered Prophet Childs and the Day of Cleansing. This was the first of many cleansings, but of course, I didn't know it then. The memory floods right through me. That smell of smoke.