Corinne had missed the last two weeks of high school. She couldn’t go back to Enoch Miller’s school. She couldn’t face him—her mother wouldn’t let her.
On the last day of school, Corinne called her guidance counselor to see if it was still possible for her to graduate somehow. The guidance counselor was happy to help. Guidance counselors have hero complexes, and there weren’t many fucked-up, practically homeless kids at that high school; Corinne presented a unique opportunity.
She went in over the summer to take her finals. Her dad drove her. (He’d come back to town as soon as Corinne’s mom was settled in a new house with subsidized rent. And Corinne’s mom took him back, because they were still married, and marriage is a sacrament.)
Her family started at the new church that summer. A new congregation, but the same denomination. Corinne would still be cast out. She’d have to meet with the elders in the new congregation and tell them what she’d done. She’d have to apologize again. And make a plan to repent. To earn back God’s favor. To earn the forgiveness of a bunch of people she’d never met before. Corinne’s mother begged her to do it—
Corinne didn’t.
Corinne wouldn’t.
Corinne wasn’t sorry, not about the right things.
She stayed home on Thursday nights and watched television with her dad. The Cosby Show wasn’t on anymore.
The guidance counselor kept calling to talk to Corinne about college. She must get a recruitment bonus, Corinne thought. Corinne’s test scores were high, and her grades were fine, and the counselor said she’d be eligible for financial aid. Corinne was all ready to explain that she wouldn’t be going to college for religious and family reasons—but those reasons were gone now. She’d left them on Enoch Miller’s couch.
The counselor helped Corinne apply to a state school. She pulled some strings for late admission. Corinne’s dad signed the financial aid paperwork. (He wasn’t her real dad, but it was still legal.) Her mother cried and asked her to reconsider. “God loves you, He misses you.” But how could God miss Corinne? Wasn’t He watching her all the time? Even now? Didn’t He watch over the little sparrow? Her dad drove her to campus, smoking cigarettes and blowing the smoke out his window.
Corinne did well in college. She was good at reading and writing and following rules. She stayed on campus over the summers. She started dating another political science major. She slept with him one night when her roommate was back home doing laundry. (Was God watching? Were the angels and the demons there? Were they still fighting over Corinne’s soul—or had they lost interest at the same time that Enoch Miller did?)
Corinne dated that boy, Jeremy, for almost four years. He was fine. He was Catholic, but not in any ways that you’d notice. She liked how easy he was. How little he worried about anything. He thought it was funny that Corinne was so sheltered. He joked about corrupting her. They went to see Quentin Tarantino movies and had sex in their dorm rooms, and most of the time, Corinne didn’t look back. (She was like Lot’s wife in reverse. Heading confidently into sin.) (Corinne had always felt so bad for Lot’s wife. What if she’d just been worried about her neighbors? Or her house? Or maybe she was just gawking. Who wouldn’t turn around and watch a city burn?) (Corinne had felt sorry for almost everyone who was punished in the Bible. Lot’s wife and Jezebel and Joseph’s brothers. That was probably a bad sign.)
Corinne got a master’s degree in communication. She took a job at an ad agency in Boston. She broke up with Jeremy when she realized that she didn’t miss him.
She fell in love with Marc not long after. He was an art director who’d never been to church, and Corinne was so acclimated to the world by then, Marc didn’t even notice that she needed corrupting. Corinne had seen a hundred Rated-R movies. She said “fuck” and “ass” and occasionally, if she thought it would get a laugh, “cunt.” Marc didn’t ask why Corinne never went home for Christmas—almost no one went home for Christmas. She and Marc had Christmas together. Corinne was in love with him. She loved his wavy black hair and his dimples. She loved watching him work. When he asked her to marry him, she said yes. It didn’t last, there was never a ring. Corinne broke up with him once for cheating on her. And once for lying. And once for getting drunk when he promised he wouldn’t. Really, all of their breakups were about Marc getting drunk.
She didn’t date much after that. She never met anyone outside of work, and Corinne’s friends said she put off Leave me alone vibes. That was probably true. Jeremy was bad at reading facial expressions, and Marc was drunk the first time he made a pass at her; neither of them would have noticed.
Corinne didn’t especially want to be alone, but she couldn’t really see any other practicable options. She wasn’t lonely enough to do anything desperate, or even anything foolish. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to fall in love again. Falling in love hadn’t led to any of her finest moments. Historically.
Corinne was doing fine, as she was. She was good at her job. She was the sort of person who people liked better once they’d worked with her. She was smart and responsible, and she got shit done.
And over the years, she’d made a lot of progress with her mom. It started with phone calls. Corinne reached out first, but her mom was open to it. Responsive. Then Corinne started going home for Christmas.
When her mom had a heart attack, Corinne decided to move back home to Kansas. She didn’t know how much more time they’d have to repair things, and she could do her job from anywhere—and there wasn’t anyone in Boston that she couldn’t leave behind.
Marc had tried to get her to go out, the night before she left, but it was easy for Corinne to say no. She was tired, and he didn’t have any hold on her.