Endure to the End
By Tachyon Feathertail
12 Dec, 2010
Laurel is slumped into the chair in her Sunday dress, with a shell-shocked look on her face. Beside her, her stepmom is red-faced, her cheeks puffy from crying. She has her arms folded and is looking straight ahead, glaring at the door to the bishop's office. Other churchgoers walk past in front of them, ignoring them but knowing why they're there.
The next day, Laurel's high school Seminary teacher tells her class about how anthros, gays, and transgender people are sick, and they do sick things to each other. They only want to live their lifestyles openly so that they can shock people, and they only want to get "married" so they can have tax writeoffs. That's why they pushed their agenda, to get the definitions of marriage and personhood changed in California, and it's up to the members of God's true church to stand up for what's right. It's up to the Latter-Day Saints to fight back.
Laurel barely makes it through the class period, then throws up in the bathroom outside. Someone comes in as she's retching, and just as quickly backs out.
Laurel's knees are shaking as she straddles the toilet seat, trying to catch her breath. She's pleading with God in her head, begging him to make her whole. Begging him to take these wrong feelings away from her.
All of them.
* * *
"What does 'endure to the end' mean?"
I was sitting across from the nonmember girl, Sam, in the big wooden dining hall down by the lake at Girls' Camp. It was my last year there as a camper, before I graduated from Young Women, and my new friendship with her was the one thing keeping me going this year. We had the table to ourselves, because no one else wanted to sit with us … or with me, anyway.
The double doors were open at both ends. Outside, the trees cast shadows across the pine needle-covered path. Flies buzzed around my second bowl of cereal, and I swatted them away before looking up at Sam, not sure I'd heard her right over the background commotion. "Huh?"
"Endure to the end," Sam repeated, brushing her hair from in front of her glasses. "That thing you said people needed to do, when you were … " She searched for the words, for a moment. " … bearing your testimony, last night."
I held one hand up, as I drank the rest of the milk in my bowl slowly. Trying to think how to put this. "It's just that," I finally said, setting my bowl back down. "We endure Satan's temptations until the last day, when Jesus will come and bind him."
"It sounds hard," she said, while using fork and knife to cut sausage links.
I groaned. "You have no idea."
"Perhaps I don't. What does he tempt you to do?" Sam asked, dipping a piece of sausage in maple syrup and eating it.
"Well, you know that Heavenly Father wants us to be together in our eternal families," I explained, "after we get sealed together in the temple. So Satan tries to make us unworthy to be in our eternal families, and he tries to keep us from starting families to begin with."
"Ah," she said. "So he was behind Proposition 8?"
I choked. "Er, what?"
"California's Proposition 8," she repeated. "Besides declaring anthros non-persons, it kept same-gender couples from starting families in that state, as well as invalidating opposite-gender marriages where one of the partners was trans. Was that Satan's work?"
I stared at her for a long moment, trying to tell whether or not she was being facetious. "Um, no … " I said. "That was God's work."
"I see," she said, slowly.
"Transgenderism and transspeciesism are unnatural," I hastily went on. "And what gays and lesbians are doing isn't 'starting families,' it's going contrary to God's commandments."
"Which of God's commandments?" Sam had stopped eating, and was watching me now.
I squirmed. "That a man and a woman are supposed to get married, and start a family together."
"What if I don't want to marry a man?" Sam asked.
But then Sister Powers started shouting over the din, and presenting the day's announcements. I folded my arms and listened to her, trying to think of what I would say when I next got the chance.
* * *
You'll have to forgive me for being an idiot. Because it wasn't until later that day that I realized what she had meant.
I guess I'd better confess, here, before going on … I have same-gender attraction too. I don't just have same-gender attraction, though, I'm attracted to males also. And please don't think it's my fault. I had enough trouble convincing my old bishop of that, even after I showed him God Loveth His Children, that new pamphlet put out by the Brethren.
I didn't choose to have SSA, or any of these other weird problems I have … the ones that made me squeamish inside, when she started talking about anthros and transgenderism. And while I've made some wrong choices because of them, it's not too late for me. I'm not like those people; I'm not living their lifestyle, and I've never been transformed by anyone. I just have to repent for dwelling on these wrong things so much, and let God heal me of my sinful desires.
But you're probably confused about what's going on. So let me back up a bit.
*takes a deep breath*
This all started when I let my mom pick out my clothes. See, the problem is that my mom's a nonmember — an apostate, actually — and she doesn't believe in the Church's standards of modesty anymore. So when I told her I left my suitcase at my dad and stepmom's house, and didn't have anything to wear to Girls' Camp this year, she went out shopping and came home with all of these sleeveless tops and short shorts.
I tried to tell her I didn't believe in wearing stuff like that. That it wasn't just going to be girls there; that there'd be adult Priesthood holders to supervise, and they didn't need to be tempted like that. She gave me this look like I was an idiot, and started in on a feminist lecture about equal rights and stuff, so I finally had to just beg her not to make me wear those because the other girls would shun me for it.
She said no, she wasn't going back out to the store. And sure enough, my tentmate Katelynn (we've got two-person tents this year instead of cabins) just comes here in between activities to get things from the bags under her cot, then walks back out off the wooden platform the tent's on without saying a word to me. No one's approached me or said hi to me or anything, and Sister Powers, our Young Women's leader, gave me this long guilt trip speech where she told me to think about how the Savior felt about what I was wearing.
I didn't tell her that sounded like a really bad way of putting it.
She told me I wasn't allowed to be one of the youth leaders this year, because I was setting a bad example with my worldly and immodest fashions … and I guess I can't blame her for that. I just really wished someone would talk to me, which is why I was surprised to see that they were all talking to someone else who was dressed just like me.
You guessed it. Samantha.
I hope it's not a sin for me to say this, but Sam is really cute, and I don't just mean because of her outfit. It's because she wears glasses (I've always had a thing for girls with glasses), and because she just seems so naive. She was asking such honest questions about the Church and Utah culture in general, and I could hear the other girls laughing as they explained things to her.
Meanwhile, I was trying not to think about her too much. And I was writing sappy, embarrassing stuff in my journal, about how I was struggling with these wrong feelings and wished that I didn't have them. So of course, when she came up and said hi to me, I closed it up really fast and looked up at her, startled and red-faced.
"You're Laurel, right?" she asked.
"Uh, yeah … " I was trying to talk to her without letting myself look at her, and blushing as I did so. Oh my heck, I thought, she is so cute. But I pushed that away and asked "Uh, and you are?" I'd heard her name already, but I didn't want her to know I'd been eavesdropping.
"Sam," she said. "Why aren't you out here? Are you not feeling well?"
"Uh, no, I just … " I just couldn't face being a social pariah, because of my apostate mom and the rumors about me and the fact that I was wearing immodest clothing. But how could I explain all this to a nonmember girl, in a way that she'd understand? And wouldn't be insulted by, I thought. "I'd just … rather stay in here, is all." I coughed. It was true, technically.
"Is it okay if I come in and sit down?"
I hesitated a second, then nodded, and she came in and sat down beside me. Like, right beside me, on the cot. Almost touching me. I scooted away from her immediately, and tried to make it look like I was being polite and giving her space.
She asked me polite, getting-to-know-you type questions. I don't remember what they were, because I was too busy trying not to think how her shorts had rode up her legs when she'd sat down. I do remember that when she asked "What do your parents do?" I said
"My mom's a homemaker. My dad teaches Institute."
"Ah. What's Institute?"
"It's like a … it's a college-level religion class," I told her. I was going to say it was like grown-up Seminary, but I guessed she wouldn't understand that either unless she'd been invited there.
"Oh. So they teach you about different world religions and things?"
"No … just this one."
"How come?"
"Because … " I could see her looking at me, a curious expression on her face. She really didn't know. Another one of those things she was naive about, I guessed, and tried not to think how adorable that made her.
"Um." I coughed again, trying to break out of that train of thought. "How much do you know about the Church?"
"The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints?" She didn't call it "the Mormon Church," she said its full name, like it was honestly how she thought of it.
"Yes," I said. "The Church."
"I know it's headquartered here in Utah … " Sam looked up at the roof of my tent, like she was trying to remember the facts for a quiz. I wondered how much she'd learned just today.
"It's got over thirteen million members worldwide," she said, "most of them inactive. It teaches its members to give ten percent of their income to the church without question. Some of this money goes to build temples, which are like meetinghouses but are only for worthy church members. The rites performed in temples are done to seal families together for time and for all eternity."
"Um … yes, very good!" I was embarrassed. I felt unprepared to deal with this new investigator, who knew a lot about the Church already and was learning fast. And she already knew about tithing and inactives … I didn't know if she thought those were good or bad. How was I supposed to teach her if I didn't know what she was ready to hear? What if I said something she wasn't ready for?
I said a quick, silent prayer, that I'd know what to say. "Do you know why we can seal families together?" I finally asked.
"You can't," she said.
My mind went blank. "A-huh?"
"You can't," Sam explained, "because you're a girl. You can't hold the Priesthood, so you can't perform the ordinances."
"Oh, right, sorry … " I looked away, red-faced. I hated being reminded of that, I really did. Both my gender, and the fact that I couldn't hold the Priesthood. "I meant 'we' as in 'the Church' there, sorry."
"Oh, okay. Why?" She clasped her hands in her lap.
"Because we … I mean the guys, sorry … they have the Priesthood. It's the literal power of God, and the authority to act in his name. Only God can seal families together for time and for all eternity, so only the servants of God here on earth can do that for us. That's why we spend so much time teaching each other and learning about the Church," I finished. "Because it's so important that we end up together, as eternal families."
"Oh," she said. "You care for your family a lot, don't you?"
"I … "
* * *
Laurel's stepmom blows her nose on a handkerchief, from the seat next to hers, as the bishop opens his door. A boy that she doesn't recognize hurries out without talking to Laurel, brushing past her in her seat.
Laurel looks up, at the balding man in the white shirt and tie. She swallows. "Hi, dad … " she says. But the look on his face says that he's not her dad right now. He's Bishop Williams.
"Come in," he says, turning around and heading back to his desk. Laurel gets up and does as he asks, and shuts the door behind her, feeling like she's sealing herself into her own tomb.
* * *
I sighed. "I don't know."
The rest of the conversation was a blur. Samantha could sense my discomfort, and she moved on to something else … something about animals at first, but I got really tense then so she brought up something pop culture-y instead. Movies, I think. We talked about one we'd both seen.
She put her hand on my knee at one point. It felt warm and embarrassing. I didn't stop her, though. I didn't know how to politely ask. And I could tell that she wasn't trying to flirt; she was trying to comfort me. She could tell I was in distress.
I couldn't help thinking how good it felt that she was touching me like that. But then after Sam left, I got down on my knees where no one could see me and begged Heavenly Father to help me reach her. Begged him to help unworthy me to at least not stand in her way. I knew that I'd probably ruined my own eternal family, but I promised that I wouldn't ruin hers.
When they had the nightly prayer and testimony meeting, around the fire in our ward's campsite, I waited for a few other girls to share their thoughts about being at camp before standing up and bearing my testimony.
"I just wanted to say that I know the Church is true," I said, knees shaking a bit as the campfire warmed me. Making me sweat uncomfortably. "I know that Heavenly Father restored it to the earth through Joseph Smith, and that he gave him the Priesthood keys to seal families together forever."
I took a quick glance down at Sam. She was sitting there watching me, and actually listening.
I took a deep breath and went on, sounding less like a calm, reassuring Church leader and more like a scared little girl. "I know that we can be together forever, so long as we're worthy and we obey all the laws and ordinances of the Gospel. And make and keep sacred covenants … and … and endure to the end," I finished lamely, feeling the onset of stage fright. "In the name of Jesus Christ, amen."
I sat back down in the back row, the only one there on my bench.
* * *
Anyway, I'm pretty dense to start with, and the butterflies in my stomach from being attracted to Sam (but not wanting to admit it) made me even slower on the uptake. So it wasn't until I heard her talking ouside my tent, saying she'd never had a boyfriend, that it dawned on me.
Oh. My. Heck.
She had same-gender attraction too! No wonder she'd said that thing about not wanting to marry a man, at breakfast … oh, crud, did that mean she liked me? What if that hand on the knee was flirting?
I felt this weird churn in my stomach, like being flattered and sickened at the same time. It felt right and wrong all at once, and I wanted to dwell on it some more. But I also knew it was the last thing that I ought to think about.
But she's been talking so much to me and asking me so many questions … I thought. Then I sighed.
I've got to tell her, I thought. I have to tell her I can't talk to her anymore, and explain why. I'll find someone else to help teach her the Gospel. It's for her own good … heck, it's for my own good.
Of course, as it turned out, I wouldn't get to confess to her until much, much later that night. And I'd end up spilling my guts to her about everything else … literally.
* * *
Originally posted on BecomeYourFursona, a website once maintained by Tachyon Feathertail and Yurodivy Kiranov. This writing is not mine in any way, and is reposted here for archival purposes. If either author of BecomeYourFursona reaches out and requests its removal, I will comply.
This is Chapter 1 of a story with (to my memory) around four chapters. I was unable to find any others on the Wayback Machine. If you have the rest, I humbly ask that you please, please share them with me. Thank you!