Ada got married on a sweltering summer day at a motel in Nevada. That morning, she was woken up just as the first bits of sunlight creeped over the red mountains surrounding Colorado Springs, fingers making their way over the curves of an unfamiliar body. As she packed a small bag with everything she would need for the wedding, she took breaks to watch as the morning sun set the mountains ablaze and the red sand glowed like molten rock. She got into the back of a car she’d never seen before and looked out the window for what felt like a century before the car pulled into the empty parking lot of an old motel. It looked abandoned, like it hadn’t had a living guest since before Ada was born. But when she looked closer she saw signs of life: There were boot marks in the sandy roads and room 216 had the curtains drawn tightly. And then, of course, there was her, her mother, and, somewhere in this wasteland of a motel, her fiancé. 

Ada got ready for her wedding in an empty room on the first floor. Her mother had brought a mirror from the closet and propped it against the dresser so Ada could see herself fully. This was the same room she would spend the night in with her husband after the ceremony. “Ceremony” was a loose term, as the wedding would be performed quietly in another room in the motel, with only a few witnesses, and no cameras. That part made Ada sad – she loved taking pictures. At home, she had a hand-me-down digital camera she got from her brother before he left with the other boys. After she finished her chores, she would walk around taking pictures; pictures of her dog and the sky and stained glass windows. But when she was packing that morning, her mother had taken the camera out of Ada’s hand, shaking her head softly. 

Ada liked her wedding dress, that’s why she wanted a picture. It made her feel elegant, and very grown-up. She watched in the mirror as her mother buttoned the back with the same hands that crafted and sewed the dress together. She saw her friend Clara’s wedding dress once and it looked similar. The girls had laid out the stiff gown on Clara’s bed after church and talked about what great wives they would be. Now Ada wasn’t so sure. 

The small AC unit in the motel room breathed in the dry heat and coughed out cool puffs, but it wasn’t strong enough, and began to choke. Ada’s wedding gown covered her whole body, swallowing her thin frame in the dense weight of thick cotton. She could feel the sweat that was leaking from her pores trapped under the oppressive material. But the constrictive tightness was somewhat comforting, like being wrapped in someone’s arms who will never let you go. Finally, she found some relief from the heat as her mother lifted the hair from her neck to situate it in a clean updo. 

Ada’s mother brushed her daughter’s hair and spoke for the first time since they had arrived in Nevada. She told her what it means to consummate a marriage. She caressed the girl’s pristine, golden locks and spoke of the things that would happen to her once night fell in that very room. Ada learned her duties as a wife. Her whole life Ada had been told she must do what is pure and Godly, but nothing about this felt divine. The more her mother explained, the more Ada’s stomach shriveled in her body, and the neckline of her dress felt constricting, tightening with her mother’s every word. 

“You’re 14 now Ada. That means you’re a woman.” Her mother said this with silky sweetness, but also a finality that told Ada not to ask anymore questions. She felt far away. Like she had left her body in that musty motel and flown high up over the blazing mountains, to somewhere miles and miles away, where she wasn’t a woman, just a girl. But Ada couldn’t leave. Even with the back door hanging open to pull a draft through the room, leaving that motel would mean abandoning her family, her God, and the only future she knew. So she stayed. A white veil was placed over her face, and behind it tears ran down her cheeks and dampened the front of her wedding gown. She clutched the cross on her breast, praying to God that when she met her husband he would be kind and handsome.

…

The Fundamentalist Church of the Latter Day Saints (FLDS) is a sect of the Mormon church that came under close scrutiny in the early 2000s based on suspicious cult activity. The FLDS resulted as a splinter group when mainstream Mormons gave up the practice of polygamy in the 1980s. Members of the group resided in Colorado City on the Arizona-Utah border for the remainder of the 20th century. When the “Prophet,” Rulon Jeffs, passed away, his power as well as his 65 wives were claimed by his son, Warren Jeffs. When Warren took over, he seized all control of planning and carrying out marriages within the church. Many young boys were excommunicated, and young girls were married to older men within the church – and even blood relatives. In 2005, a warrant was issued for Warren Jeffs’ arrest on charges of conspiracy to commit rape and sexual conduct with a minor. He evaded authorities, eventually gaining a spot on the FBI’s “Ten Most Wanted” list, before he was caught and arrested in 2006. In 2008 Warren Jeffs was sentenced to two consecutive terms of five years to life for arranging the marriage of a 14-year-old girl to her 19-year-old first cousin.