PART ONE

Chapter One: Confession

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been twelve days since my last confession."

"What are your sins, my child?"

It was a fair question. But Michelle suddenly found herself tongue-tied and incapable of coherent speech. She wrung her hands nervously and felt her face flush with hot shame.

"I—I—" she tried.

"Yes, my child?" he urged.

"I'm sorry!" Michelle whispered. She burst out of the confessional and the tap-tap-tap of her Mary Janes echoed off the cathedral walls like rocks cascading down the side of chasm. She flew out into the open air and down the steps and did not stop running until she reached her home, a three-bedroom duplex in Point Pleasant, New Jersey. Her mother owned the whole building, but let the downstairs part out to a family of Honduran immigrants. Michelle pounded up the stairs and into the apartment she shared with her mother, who, if Michelle had any luck, would be down at the food pantry passing out soggy tuna sandwiches and lectures on divine providence free of charge to the area's homeless population.

"Michelle? Is that you?"

No such luck.

"Yes, Mother, it's me," she said. She slowed to a drag and followed her mother's voice into the kitchen. There was Lucille Bennett, her frizzy brown hair tamed by a banana clip straight out of the 1980s, her ruddy face scrunched up in constant disapproval, peering over enormous eyeglasses attached to her person by a beaded chain at The Point, a local paper.

"Here they go again," she said narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips.

"Here who go again?" said Michelle, lingering in the doorway. She was anxious to get up to her room.

"The homosexuals," Lucille replied. Every time she said the word, she over-pronounced the "sex" part. Michelle didn't know whether it was intentional or not. Michelle didn't answer. "Sit down and have a snack," her mother commanded. She set down the paper, exhaled in an exasperated sigh, and stood up and began fixing Michelle a bowl of oatmeal topped with blueberries. "They're out at the pavilion again protesting this or that or some such thing. They won't rest until the American flag is re-done in technicolor!"

Michelle cringed. It was past seven in the morning, but the sun was obscured by clouds rolling in off the ocean in a dusky haze. It was going to be another dreary day and the mid-morning melancholia matched Michelle's mood near perfectly. A general sense of malaise had squatted in her brain with no intention of leaving. She rested her chin in her left hand as her right dug aimless holes in her bowl of oatmeal with her spoon. It was another school day which meant another day of facing the inevitable.

The feelings stirring inside her grew stronger with each passing day. She let her numerous extra-curricular activities occupy her for as much of the day as she could for as long as she was busy, she wasn't consumed by the sinful thoughts. She dared not whisper a word to anyone, though she longed to bare her soul in Confession. So she threw herself into her violin lessons, swim team, math club, debate team, and youth group. It was only a short walk to the local YMCA where the Franklin D. Roosevelt High School swim teams held weekly practices.

"Michelle, get going. You don't want to be late for your swim team practice."

"Yes, Mother."

"And don't forget you have youth group tonight. You need to be back at church by seven."

"I know, Mother."

"And your application to Wellesley is due in two weeks. How are those essays coming?"

"Very well, Mother."

"Good. Now get going."

….

Swim team practice usually began with freestyle laps, a sort of warm-up before the racing began. Once she was in the water, the nagging feelings slipped away. Michelle had always felt completely at home in the water. Her father used to call her his little mermaid. He would drop small toys and souvenirs from his latest business trip into the deep end of their in-ground pool and she would dive in after them emerging only after having collected her prizes. Then he would pull her out and wrap her in a thick towel that smelled of perfumed laundry soap. And her lips were blue and her teeth chattered, but a warm glow burned within her as she reveled in his strong embrace.

But that was a long time ago.

When practice was over, Michelle's heart began to race as it did every afternoon at this time. She took slow, deliberate steps to the locker room and listened intently to the girlish chatter taking place behind her.

"I was thinking about wearing this gold strapless dress that comes down to here, but opens up here, and then there's this gold beading here and along here."

Michelle didn't turn around to watch Cara Linwood gesture on her body which way her dress would cut, but her imagination was more than capable of filling in the blanks. Cara Linwood had moved to the area from somewhere up in North Jersey at the beginning of the school year and was instantly high school royalty. Cara and her friends, all of whom sat in the 'cool' corner of the cafeteria, prattled on about their respective prom dresses and dates and limos while the team filed into the girls' locker room. Michelle held her breath as Cara passed by her and headed for her locker. This next part would require careful timing and a little bit of luck. Michelle studied the combination lock affixed to her locker door and carefully input the code. She swung the door open and gathered her towel and clothes all the while keeping a watchful eye on Cara's movements beside her.

"We need to meet at my house for pictures before we head out," Cara called to her friend Megan, who was currently fishing her clothes out of her locker a few feet down. "My mom just put in this little pond and mini waterfall in the backyard. It'll make a great background."

The showers were an open room with several overhead faucets spaced about six feet from one another and Michelle felt her heart swell as she quickly shuffled into the corner right next to Cara. She and Megan had not stopped talking about the prom as they stripped naked and turned on the water. Most of the girls took quick showers, but not Cara. She liked to wash her hair thoroughly after swim practice to avoid a greenish tint to her golden locks. Michelle slowly lathered her body as she cast a sidelong glance at the lithe figure next to her. She felt a sudden rush of excitement as she watched the snow-white bubbles cascade down Cara's body in waves. Michelle's face flushed a deep crimson as she forced herself to look away. God give me the strength to suppress my sinful thoughts, she prayed. But she knew it wouldn't do any good.