I and Benson stood watching the flock of Sandhill Cranes as they wheeled overhead giving their trumpet-like calls. I never failed to be awed by the spectacle of thousands of large birds in the air at one time, their wings outstretched as they prepared to land. It was at times like this I knew nature was the best medicine for my soul. That and Benson. Though Benson, like medicine, also had a bitter after taste. It wasn't Benson himself that brought the taste, but those of my family that thought he was ill-suited for me and repeatedly told me so. So, we went out to watch birds together in out of the way places where we wouldn't be seen together. This had been going on since our sophomore year of high school and continued as we attended the same community college after high school graduation.
We have been close friends for over five years and the times we shared together the most enjoyable of any I could remember. Benson was, as the old saying goes- tall, dark, and handsome. He is five inches taller, has dark brown hair with brownish-green eyes, and looks that make him stand out in any group of men. But like me, our shared interest in watching birds was a stigma among our peers and members of our conservative, rural agricultural community. Bird-watching or Birding, was viewed as an activity for older environmental nuts. I knew a few of our old high school friends thought the two of us made a wonderful pair- best described as a pair of kooks. For this, I could only happily blame Benson. He had corrupted me.
My parents thought because Benson didn't attend an organized Christian church he was a pagan, a heathen, that worshipped nature, or at least they suggested he did. They considered him a bad influence on a Christian girl like me. Something my father had reiterated as Benson often walked me home while in high school. He lived but four houses away. My parents were standoffish with his parents, though not outright nasty. After all, it wouldn't have been Christian to be totally unaccepting in such a small community where everyone knew everyone else.
Benson was my release from boredom, continuous hard study, and from the strict norms expected of me from my family and church. With him, I found I could be free to express myself, explore my feelings, and vent my frustrations. We talked for hours, sometimes agreeing, sometimes not, but in the end, always knew we could depend upon one another, to be honest, and accepting. Benson was my sounding board for what I read that conflicted with my religious teachings, often pointing me to books or articles he had read in his own quest for knowledge.
I remembered the situation that had tested us as never before when we were high school juniors. My parents insisted I should date only men from our congregation, or at least, of the same faith. I had resisted as best I could but to no avail. My father had told me to break off seeing Benson, even though we had never dated in the formal sense. He suggested I was spending time with Benson when I should have been directing my attention towards the 'right' kind of man. A stance my mother fully supported.
It had gotten harder for us to escape with so many eyes watching us. Benson had not entirely escaped my father's wrath. My father had told his parents it was unwise for him to see me when I was dating other men. It just wouldn't look good. Benson's parents were loath to agree, but what were they to do? They suggested Benson find a way to avoid aggravating my family. Benson had suggested we try a trial separation and I had been resistant. In the end, it seemed as if we really didn't have a choice. No matter, it hadn't worked. After less than three weeks we were back to seeing one another, even if for but a few precious minutes at a time. Precious minutes I savored.
The more my parents tightened the screws the harder my resistance and resolve had grown to maintain the one relationship that gave me joy. I found dates with the 'right' men disappointing, as their attitude toward me was as a subservient woman. Women were to be at their husband's disposal after marriage, the men I dated seemed to think it applied in some sense even sooner. It was their attitude that made me wince, forcing me to hold my tongue rather than lash out as I really wanted to. Doing so would only get back to my parents in some fashion, it always seemed to.
My life wasn't made any better my junior year after my older sister had gotten pregnant while dating a member of the congregation. This had been the first hard taste of my father's hypocrisy. I overheard my mother and father telling Tessie she had two choices- get an abortion or get married. The word abortion had rung loud in my ears- it was strictly forbidden by our religion and my father had preached often about its sinfulness from the pulpit. The taking of a life that was the gift of God, representing an open door to hell.
Once my parents found Tessie hadn't told the father their tone changed. Upon hearing this my father said he didn't like the young man and that having him in the family wouldn't look good, especially under the guise of a hurried wedding. After all, he had a reputation to uphold. It was all I could do to remain silent behind the door that separated us. My parent's previous transgressions paled in comparison to this revelation of practical utility over the tenets of their faith.
After my sister was sent to live with our aunt in the next state for a few weeks my parents had come down on me firmly- reminding me that laying with a man was for after I was married. Not that it hadn't been beaten into me for years before. I hadn't been told anything other than my aunt needed someone to look after her for a while and Tessie had been requested to help. What my parents didn't know was that Tessie had confided to me she was pregnant before telling them. I knew it was a bald-faced lie as soon as the words left their mouths.
I walked alone along the forest trail deep in thought a few weeks after Tessie was sent away. I was troubled by recent events in my life and there didn't seem to be easy answers. I had sought solace in my Bible just as my father had always instructed. Scripture was so confusing and the messages delivered by my father only seemed to confound my life. While attending community college the disparities only grew larger. Why couldn't I go to a dance, have a sip of wine, or dress more like the other girls at college? It just seemed as if I was out of step with all but those of my own faith. It wasn't that they were bad people. They weren't. But I wasn't a bad person either. Trouble was, I wasn't exactly in step with them anymore, to begin with. The changes had been slow in coming, but they had come. Increasing as I became exposed to different ideas at school and by reading on my own. Knowledge may be power, but there was a price to be paid to attain it I hadn't expected.
My feelings had started to change after the hypocrisy of my father and other members of the church grew too hard to ignore. Or, at least, I had begun to notice them. My father reminded me often that the gates of heaven were special and narrow, while the gates of hell were much wider and more easily won. As usual, he also reminded me that my God-given gift of physical beauty could be the road to sin and to hell if the devil were to take an interest in me. In his mind, the devil was always close to hand, at least when it came to me.
It was during my and Benson's last semester at community college that we secretly met twice a week in the very back of the library where we could talk quietly and not be seen. That was unless someone walked past the stacks into the very back corner to find us. We had discussed what we wanted to do for the next two years once we transferred to a four-year college. We had decided after months of researching college catalogs on a college that offered programs for both of us. Our parents were in agreement with our choices after they were presented to them. At least that was something my parents had left largely in my hands, requiring only their approval of my choice.
Of course, our parents were completely unaware the two of us had colluded to make sure we attended the same institution. Each of us had worked summers and part-time jobs while attending classes so we had enough money saved to help our families bear the cost of tuition and room and board. Actually, this had started during high school, so we had saved enough over the years to pay for almost the entire two-year stint at school if we were thrifty. I, in particular, had been especially secretive about how much my savings account held fearing an 'adjustment' from my family if they knew. It was probably a sin of some kind, so I chose not to think about it.
I was active in the church choir, mostly, or to be completely honest- only, to keep my parents happy. I didn't take much joy in it as choir practice had been changed to a weekday night when I and Benson had sometimes managed to find time together. I never knew if it was pure coincidence or if someone had seen us and told my father. I was driven back and forth to practice by two men my age from the congregation. I had known Jake and Tim almost my entire life and my father had made the arrangements without consulting me. It just made me more depressed and embarrassed.
The road we took to choir practice passed the park where Benson and I used to meet. Benson would drive his car and I would ride my bicycle. I had several times saw his unoccupied car parked in the lot as we passed. It was like a hard slap on the face. It was as if it waited for me. Each time I pined for him as our time had been reduced to but twenty minutes during the week and two hours on Saturday if I feigned the need to study on campus. One evening on the way back from choir practice Jake pulled off the paved road and into the gravel parking lot of the park. Benson's car was parked and sat empty. I was sitting in the back seat and asked.
"Jake, why are we stopping here?"
Jake turned in his seat and looked back at me with a smile. "We think it's time we got to know you a little better. You being the preacher's daughter and all."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"You have been seeing Benson all these years. We know you do more than just watch birds together. We want to see what Benson gets to see and this is as good a place as any for you to show us. Tim and I want to see those big tits of yours. So, why don't you take off your blouse and remove your bra so we can get a good look."
I was stunned. I felt a surge of indignation and anger, then a shiver of fear. I swallowed hard, my mouth dry, my heart starting to beat hard.
"I'm not going to do that. Benson has never seen me that way and you aren't either."
I watched as Tim got out of the front seat and quickly opened the rear door and slid in next to me.
